City Without Suns (6 page)

Chapter 12

January 15, 2830

There has been nothing to do in this place for a very long time.  Maybe it would be more interesting to be a mechanic, but that is not my vocation.  I was bred to be a warrior and a protector.  For twenty-three years, there was nothing noteworthy to fight, nobody to protect, and nothing to protect them against.  I was never trained to protect people against their own insanity or the madness of others, so I cling to my memories and buy time until my eventual end. 

I am watching Isla sleep. Eon and I are staying up late killing time.  It is time for him to know some of my story while I figure out how to best help them. 

…

The intense training from the Special Forces on the Bishop Islands did not teach me in my entire upbringing what Isla taught me one time when I was ten years old.

It was a sunny and windy day typical of the climate from where we came.  Even though I spent much time in a special school, there was still time allotted for the common school.  They wanted us to have some degree of normalcy in our lives, so we did not become robots without compassion for those we were charged to protect and serve.  On the playground, one of the other kids started yelling at me.  I just wanted to ignore him, but it was not easy.

“Freak!” he said.  My wings were not fully grown and I could barely fly, but my future position as a police trainee was no secret.  Nor was it a secret that I had been bred and inseminated, a practice that was common on the Islands.  The kid who was taunting me approached trying to induce a response.  I did not indulge him.

When he turned his back to walk away, I was making insulting gestures, which he discovered in looking back over his shoulder.  It was a mistake on my part.  He returned to stand in front of me.  I didn’t know what to do.  Even though I had already been trained in physical combat, and he was correct in his assessment of me as a freak, I lacked self-confidence before the older and stronger youth.  Without warning, he swung his fist around to meet my ear.  It surprised me at first, and I then realized how much it hurt and began to cry.  I was ashamed.  I crouched down, clutching my throbbing ear and did not realize he was preparing to beat me some more.

              From out of nowhere, a girl half his size came sprinting full bore.  The boy’s fist was in the air ready to strike. But the girl was too fast. She lowered her shoulder and collided with him, knocking him to the ground.

“No!” she shouted.  She did nothing else.  She just stood over him.  He did not retaliate.  He seemed to have a respect for her beyond what was demanded by the blow she delivered.  He stood and walked away.  That was the first time I met Isla.  We did not speak on that particular day, but I would not forget her.

The incident taught me a lesson in reckless sacrifice.  The person she confronted could probably have killed her, but that possibility did not deter her.  She seemed impervious to any notion of self-preservation in the defense of another individual.  Eon might think she has changed and become more cautious in her old age.  He would be right, but her situation has called for well calculated efforts to raise him on her own outside the ship Ward.  From her example, I decided long ago that was how I wanted to be.  The thought of her boldness, her courage, and her disregard for danger, inspired me to endure the crippling training I received for years to follow...

When I was seventeen and my unusual body had almost reached its potential, I stood during a training exercise with the other Island police recruits in a line, shoulder to shoulder.  I could barely hear what the twenty-five year old Leonidas was yelling over the rain.

“Salazar, step forward,” he said.  It was the first time he would use my strength and endurance as an example.  Addressing everyone, he continued, “From time to time, you will be required to endure pain.”  He punched me straight in the face in front of the others.  He paused to look around at everyone’s reaction.  I knew the expectation was for me to stand at attention unshaken from whatever blows he delivered.  He jabbed me again, breaking my nose.  I stood still.

“Salazar, turn and face your fellow warriors,” Leonidas commanded.  Blood ran from my nose as I turned around.  “I have four questions that I will ask all of you over and over again.  Today, a correct answer will earn Salazar another blow.  An incorrect answer will earn him a permanent scar.  In either case, it is to be delivered by the hand of the person who provides the answer, correct or flawed.  Salazar is the strongest of all of you.  His sacrifice today will be a reminder of the sacrifice expected for each other and these Islands.  Let’s begin,” he drew a small whip from his belt in one hand and a lethal weapon in the other, his electron gun, very effective at killing someone without the mess.  Some of the others looked at each other as if to ask
why
, but they remained silent.

He walked to the end of the line and yelled over the rain to address a singular recruit to his face, “What is loyalty?”  It was a question almost never answered incorrectly.

“Commitment to someone, to protect and to serve, and expect the same in return,” the first recruit answered.  He was older than many of the others and knew the drill.  Prompted only by a subtle forward head nod from our captain, the first recruit stepped forward in front of me.  He knew he would have to swing hard to avoid being commanded to repeat.  He picked out a hard spot on my face and very skillfully delivered a glancing blow to my cheekbone.  He stepped back in line.

Leonidas stepped over, skipping a person to keep the order of respondents unpredictable and asked the second question, “Why is loyalty important?”

The second senior recruit answered without delay, “survival through alliance.” 

Leonidas approved the answer with another head nod.  The respondent stepped forward methodically and examined me. He knew my bones were strong, but light and flexible, not as rigid as a conventional human.  He punched me hard in the ribs.  It hurt, but it was also a very skillful blow, designed by the older recruit to impress the others while minimizing my pain.  He stepped back in line knowing I was uninjured, yet enduring blows significant enough to satisfy the point of the drill.

“Where is your loyalty?” Our captain asked a third recruit, another senior member.

“With you, sir,” the answer came without delay.

“Good enough, with each other as well I hope, step forward,” Leonidas acknowledged the answer, and I suffered a third strike from another colleague.

Leonidas stretched his whip.  I feared what was coming next, but I didn’t let it show. It was almost inevitable.  He strolled to the other end of the line in front of one of the junior members, one who was on his first day of training.  It was hopeless. 

He asked, “Why?  Why do you place your loyalty with me?”

The young man, who I had never seen before, must have been an immigrant to Bishop Islands.

“Survival through alliance,” he said desperately. His eyes darted from Leonidas to me. “Survival through alliance.”

Leonidas shook his head, “No, we already said that.  I ask again, WHY?” He cracked the whip at the boy’s feet.  I removed my shirt and allowed my wings to spread at the thought of a hopelessly incorrect answer and the ensuing scar.  I was nervous - the youngster must have been terrified.

The colleague that had hit me moments earlier yelled in support, “El Salazar,” and the others followed with the repetitive chant while the boy cowered.  He did not provide an answer and began to cry instead.  That was an unspoken rule that one simply did not break in front of Leonidas.  The chanting stopped.  Everyone looked down.  The silence must have confused the boy.  He looked back and forth unable to conjure words to answer the question.  I closed my eyes.

Leonidas shook his head.  He shot the poor lad through the head with his electron gun.  The boy fell to the ground with a black charred spot where an eye sat in his skull a moment before.  I folded my wings.  Nobody spoke, until Leonidas broke the silence. 

He stood in front of another new recruit and whispered in an inaudible voice, “Why?” The question was evident from the movement of his lips.

The second youngster was smart and brave.  He yelled at the top of his lungs, “Because it’s my job, sir! My purpose! I am loyal to the Islands and its Special Forces first and foremost and will be until the day I die!” The words were sincere and his stoic expression unwavering as his steely eyes stared forward.

Leonidas offered the whip to the young lad, holding it up in front of him with a finger to indicate the answer was not one that met his approval.  The others began to clap in unison.  I likewise looked straight ahead and braced myself with my wings once again spread at full extension and my muscles tensed.

The youngster stepped forward with the whip.  I placed my hand on my belly to indicate what he must do and lowered it back to my side.  The cadence and volume of the clapping increased.  He hesitated, but he dared not stall very long.  He took a step back and cracked the whip across my stomach.  I buckled as the blood poured from the wound.  The clapping stopped.  In some strange and counterintuitive way, I was honored Leonidas had chosen me as I endured the piercing sting.  I viewed his sentiment toward me as opposite from the motivation that led him to eliminate the pathetic young recruit.

Leonidas yelled after the delay, “Incorrect!  That is not why I deserve your loyalty, although it is true and the answer is admirable.  Always be honest with me, and you will be correct.  You do not have to speak what you think we want to hear.  Speak what is true.  I have your loyalty because you fear me, and you want to survive.  The same is true for those we serve and protect.  In addition to admiring you, they must fear you, or your cause will be lost.  Fear is what keeps them in line.”

I wear the scar across my middle to this day.  It was not until I was able to watch General Mason during the first three years of this voyage that I realized how twisted the leadership style of Leonidas was.  The style that I grew to think normal in my youth is now quite possibly the last I will see.  I wish I could have known General Mason longer and worked under his thoughtful governance.

The Islands had a nearly zero rate of crime.  There were two rooms in the jail cell, and they were almost always empty.  The ruthless enforcement coming from the Special Forces was commended as the primary factor.  It was that worldwide reputation that earned Leonidas his role on Gambler.  His tactics may have been unconventional, but they worked.  I bought into them as a means to a worthy end of peace and deterrence.  He had my unconditional loyalty.  He always did, until I was called to escort Isla to extermination.  But I will not revolt outright.  I might be exterminated along with Isla next time if I did.  I must figure out what to do.

In the meantime, I am happy to add Eon to my short list of friends, which I can still count on half of one hand.

Chapter 13

January 19, 2830

Today when I went to the lower levels during my off-duty hours, Isla was not in her room.  I asked Eon where she was, and he pointed in the direction of the genetics lab.  I walked through the dank smell of the lower levels to the labs. Only twenty-three years into a voyage, the once spotless and shiny bright surfaces were already dingy and old from neglect. I wondered what they might look like after centuries.

There were many empty rooms.  Like most places on the ship, the capacity was not utilized, which seemed like a contradiction to me with the claims from our Commander about the necessity of purging.  I think time and loneliness have changed him.  He was always tough, and in fact cruel, but he was never irrational when he reported to the General. 

I came across some of the staff and asked if they had seen Isla Wington.  They just shook their heads and did their best to avoid me. No doubt, the sight of a patrol was frightening.  Although saddened at my status as an unwelcome intruder, I understood and kept searching.

I arrived at what looked like an operating room with an observation window.  Isla laid on her back in the middle of the room on a table.  She was in restraints and unsedated.  Two attendants stood over her, one holding her head straight while the other probed through a tube down her throat into her lungs.  Isla squirmed, but the restrictive belts held her tight.  Her discomfort showed in her bulging eyes.

I didn’t know anything about genetics, but I thought all they needed was a blood sample, or a skin or hair sample for that matter.  I could not understand a reason why she was being encroached upon like that.  Then I remembered something Isla told me.  She thinks they will have difficulty reproducing her anomaly, tolerance to the symbiotic bacteria that permeated her lungs and blood.  To reproduce her ability to process nitrogen, all of those organisms would need to be cloned as well.

The door was locked.  I could not break the large metal rods that held it in place.  It was not like the low security doors that I could run through back home.  I focused my attention on the window. The attendants ignored me as I banged on the unbreakable material.  I wished I had a projectile gun like we used to have back home rather than the electron guns, which I rarely carried anyway.  I quickly ran out of options and backed out of view.

I waited for an hour, then two.  Finally, the attendants opened the door to find me emerging from the darkness. Initially startled, they paused to notice the police emblem over my chest.  Then as if comforted by the sight of an authority, the first attendant greeted me with a subtle head nod and walked from the door close enough to brush shoulders with me.  I placed my hand against his sternum to halt his progress.  He paused and looked down at my hand as if attempting to express boldness and confidence, which I quickly erased.  The unexpected magnitude of force from my ensuing push carried him backwards into the room, where he collided with his collaborator.  They fell to the floor as I stepped inside.

Isla was getting up from the table.  Tears were in her eyes.  She looked like she was going to cry at the sight of me, but I did not give her time.  I took her by the wrist and pulled her gently past me out of the room.  I locked her out and turned to face the others.

The attendants looked angry as they scrambled to their feet.  They must have been unimpressed that I knocked them both over with one arm, because they approached me aggressively.  All I saw in that brief moment were two necks sticking out like narrow handles with which to manipulate them.  Overcoming their pitiful advance, I thrust them backward past the table, pinning them into the cabinets by their throats.

“Somebody explain to me what you’re doing to this woman,” I insisted.

“How dare you! The study was ordered by Leonidas,” answered the one who I first pushed.  I pressed his neck harder until he could not gather more air to speak.  He clenched his teeth and closed his eyes, bringing both his hands to mine attempting to loosen my grip.  The smaller one with him did not fight.  While I held them there, I noticed the emblems on their suits signifying full time occupations as genetic engineers.

I replied to the insolent remark, “I know damn well who ordered the study, but that was not the study that was ordered.  It was my suggestion.  Do you know who I am?”

“Some kind of thug? We’re just doing our job.  Our orders exceed any authority you have,” the second one attempted to instruct me on the nature of authority, which made me particularly angry.

I backed away, unzipped my suit, and removed it completely.  The thought of Isla seeing my bare buttocks through the window was admittedly a little embarrassing, but using all of my limbs was a luxury I missed, and I was tired of hiding.  The first larger attendant tried to run around me to the door, but I unfolded my wings to expose their ample span and block his path. My webbed appendages, extending from the two long bones on each side at the top and down to the single bone sections by my ankles, swung as if in flight and battered him against the opposite wall. 

I pointed to the smaller person and then to the table with the implied instruction for him to lie down.  He complied.  Isla stood at the window with her hands on the hard transparent plastic.  I briefly considered reaching up to the ceiling and shattering the overhead lights in an effort to hide what I was about to do.  I stopped myself, realizing there was no darkness that could suppress her vision.  She would just have to see whatever torture I inflicted to avenge their cruel treatment of her.  Risking direct conflict of an order issued by Leonidas, I knew I could justify my reaction to him based on what I saw.

“You are both guilty of abuse of a woman, punishable by death, which is within my charter to administer, right now, unless you answer my questions,” I instructed.

“You patrols haven’t enforced any abusive practices in this part of the ship for years.  Why start now?”

“Because seeing you torturing my friend makes me a little bit angry, and I’m having fun thinking of what I should do to you in return,” I retorted.

The one on the table started to get up.  My wing came crashing down on him like a blanket of steel.  He would not be able to move from there.  I placed the bony tip of my other wing down the other’s throat and pinned him back.  He tried to bite down, but my wingtip was impervious to any damage he could attempt.

“You, on the table, don’t struggle, or I
will
kill you.  Tell me - what exactly were you doing to her?  What kind of study was that?”

He replied, “Studying the makeup of her lungs.  Her genes are not telling the whole story.  They don’t make sense.  We cloned her as ordered.  We’ll know in nine months, but that baby won’t have the abilities expected from our Commander.” His voice was shaky.  I lifted my wing to uncover his face.  He did not attempt to get up.

“Do you see me?  You could clone me, right now, if you wanted.  You know why you don’t?  It’s because these wings are utterly useless on this spaceship, except for using them as tools to beat the life out of you, which is what I intend to do in a minute after you tell me the truth.”

“It’s the truth.  I don’t know what else to tell you.”

“Next time she comes here, I’m coming too.  If I see what I just saw one more time, I’m going to tear both your arms off and your legs and expel you from this ship while you’re still alive so that your remaining blood boils in the vacuum of space.  Got it?”

He nodded while I released his accomplice.  They left the room, and I clothed myself once again, which I really was getting more and more tired of doing.