The Colonists (The Movement Trilogy) (20 page)

But some members of the species escaped. Do you know the story from here?

Please continue, Varien thinks.
 

They escaped into the sky, fled to the stars. In orbit around their sickly planet, they built contained worlds to sustain them. For a time, they came together, and huddled for warmth around their will to survive. Their desires became secondary to their needs. On these little worlds, they worked together. They had babies, and rebuilt the species. New generations were born that knew nothing of soil and sky and water. These new generations would look down at a brown ball far beneath them and find no commonalities with the legends that their elders told them. Where were the great blue oceans? Where, the vast green masses of land? All they could see was a withered, ugly ball.

Man has never been content with peace, and after some time, a faction arose that demanded loyalty and servitude. It separated mankind into two groups: those who worked, and those who profited.
 

Machiners and Onyx-class, Varien thinks.

Yes,
David says.
And the dominant humans built a great city, nearly as large as Earth's moon, from which they extended their rule over the solar system. A rebellion arose, and the lesser humans fled the great city like bees from a hive. They spread across the system, hiding in crevices and canyons and craters on every moon and planet from Mercury to distant, small Pluto. They tethered themselves in orbit to any moon that would have them. But they could not flee their own need to survive. The darkest corners of the galaxy provided no food, no sustenance, no resources. And so the refugees had to rely upon their former masters for life. They went to work for them again, mining the system in exchange for supplies. The system they had fled had come to own them once more.

But in the great dark ages, a voice arose who compelled them to fight for freedoms they had not enjoyed in generations.
 

Tasneem
,
Varien thinks.

The voice belonged to a woman who defeated death. She alone remembered Earth as it was before the end. She alone had witnessed the near-utopia of man's new life among the stars, and had resisted its destruction. She called for the people to rise up, to take charge of their lives. To live in harmony once more. To shrug off the bondage they felt they deserved.
 

Some heard her voice, and did not listen. Some listened, but did not act. Some acted, but defied Tasneem's message of peace.

The Deimos saboteurs.

They brought the system to the edge of war again, sacrificing many lives to demand their freedom. And by doing so anonymously, they brought their enemy to Tasneem's door instead. Tasneem gave her life in just the way she lived: peacefully, willingly. By doing so, she protected humanity's only remaining hope.

I don't like this story, Varien thinks.

Ask me about humanity's only remaining hope
, David says.

I don't want to. I want to save Tasneem.

Ask me.

Varien exhales, and his breath trembles in the cold. Fine, he thinks. I'm asking. What is humanity's remaining hope?

David says,
Me. And you.

•
 
•
 
•

In the days following Tasneem's martyrdom,
David says
, a great message was spread throughout the system. The message would be remembered until the end of time. Its words would be recited by schoolchildren. Its story would be passed down from generation to generation. Children thousands of years in the future would know it by name, and memorize it. They would never forget the name of its author: Varien Dulcek.

Varien swallows hard. What are you talking about?
 

The message would inspire millions to lay down their weapons, to lay down their tools, to gather as one people. It would, with simple, heartfelt words, restore the broken bonds of brothers, heal the wounds of families pulled apart. It would give every man and woman and child something to hope for. Something to dream of. It would give man a common goal, and hope for a thousand million new days. What was that goal?
 

I don't know. I don't know what you think I know.

The message would speak of a home far away, a home just waiting for man's arrival. A glittering, sparkling new world. A world with life. A world lit by two beautiful, warming suns. A world with oceans and clouds and great green valleys and blue mountains. The message would tell of this new home, this new Earth. The message would call for peace, and give peace a purpose.

I don't -- I don't know anything about --

This new world will be called Asiel. Man's sanctuary. Man's refuge. Man's asylum. And Varien Dulcek will lead humanity to its doorstep.

I don't know what you are talking about. It's a lie.

It's not a lie. It's truth, Varien.

It can't be. I don't know anything about what you're talking about.

But that's okay,
says David.
Because I do. I've found it. And now you know why Tasneem would do anything to protect you, and me. Now you know why you can't go upstairs. Why you must let her do what she is going to do.

I -- I -- don't know -- I don't know what to say.

Nothing, for now. For now, we remain quiet. We wait.
 

And so they wait.
 

Several days pass, and during those days, the footsteps of the intruders can be heard thudding overhead. They hear the sounds of ransacking, of boxes flung about, of cabinets thrown open and emptied. They wince at the sound of furniture toppled. Glass breaks.
 

But through it all, the table overhead never moves. The rug is never pulled back. The secret panel never lifted.

Varien listens for the one thing he doesn't want to hear -- Tasneem's final words, a scream, the sound of gunfire -- but it never comes.
 

There's no reason it would have happened in the galley
, David offers, but Varien pushes the words out of his mind. If he doesn't hear it happen, then there's a chance it hasn't. That it won't.
 

In the days that go by, Ishy discovers a store of supplies in the dark. She feels around inside and finds simple food packets, bottled water, medical supplies. None of them has any source of light, but it's just as well. None of them wants to risk discovery.
 

They make no sounds louder than a whisper, and they try not to whisper often.
 

They start to lose track of time. On what they think is the fourth or fifth day, they realize they haven't heard a sound for some time. Ishy scoots close to Oona and Tarae and Varien and says, It's quiet.
 

It is quiet, Oona says. I don't hear anything.
 

Maybe we should go up, Ishy says.
 

No, Varien says. Not yet.
 

I think we should --

But Varien interrupts, firmly. No. We wait one more day, and then we investigate.

A few hours later, footsteps echo distantly through the ship above, followed by a thin murmur of voices.
 

Did you --

I heard, Varien says. We wait.

•
 
•
 
•

What if they never leave? Tarae asks.
 

Oona says, They have to leave.

What if they're staying onboard while they wait for someone to come?

Why would they do that? Ishy asks.

Maybe, Tarae says, they want to keep the ship. Maybe they're towing us right now.
 

That's actually a reasonable possibility,
David says.
I'm a little embarrassed that I didn't think of it.
 

Why would they want to keep the ship? Varien thinks.

Tasneem is a person of considerable interest to the Citadel
, David says.
Perhaps they will want the ship as a trophy, or for closer inspection. Now that I consider the possibility, the more likely I think it may be that our boarding party will not be leaving any time soon. Varien, I think we need to consider an alternate plan. We may have wasted too much time waiting.
 

What should we do? Varien thinks. If we go up there and they're sitting right there --

I know,
David says.
Have the crew spread out and search the space. Let's make sure there's not an exit here first. But, Varien, don't mention me to them. Not yet.

I have an idea, Varien says to the women. But I need your help.
 

ISHY

Takao waited for his wife at the junction on level 303. It had been a particularly trying day, and he found himself more exhausted than usual. He leaned against a bulkhead, then rested his head on his arms. Then he fell asleep standing up.
 

He had a dream of flying, then of falling, and then he hit the floor and woke up.
 

Your head, a stranger had said. You're bleeding.

Takao pressed his hand to his head, then inspected it. His palm was slick with blood.
 

Setsuko would be worried.

She arrived a moment later, before he could steal away to a washroom to tidy himself. She had seen the blood instantly, as he had feared, and she panicked.
 

Takao! she cried. What happened? Are you alright?
 

I'm fine, he said. Fine, dear. I'm fine. I'm just very tired.
 

But what happened? she asked again.

I fell over, he confessed.
 

You tripped?
 

I fell asleep waiting, and I fell over. Silly, I know.
 

Takao, she said, fumbling in her satchel for something with which to wipe his face. You don't have to wait for me. I'm capable of making it back to the ward alone.
 

She found a scarf, and folded it into a square. She pressed it to his head, and he winced.
 

I know, he said. I like to walk home with you.
 

Walk carefully, Setsuko said.
 

They had been married for but three weeks, and were still within their dismissal period. Takao worried that too many incidents like this one might prompt Setsuko to petition for a cancellation. Last week, he had fallen asleep on the sofa while holding a cup of coffee she had made for him. He still had red welts on his thigh from that mistake.
 

If she cancelled the marriage, he thought he would die. His first wife had petitioned for a cancellation, and had been granted it. He had married again four weeks later, and that wife had left him without waiting for council permission. She had told Takao she would gladly accept a penalty for abandoning the marriage. That was how quickly she wished to be shed of him.

He feared Setsuko might do the same. Setsuko was a gift from whatever gods there might be. She was unreasonably beautiful, with fine dark hair that suited her whether she piled it atop her head or spent hours preparing it. And she was as funny as she was nurturing, often making him laugh while she cared for his needs.
 

In other words, Setsuko was his first wife who treated him like a husband.
 

If he lost her, he would find the nearest airlock and throw himself into the sun.
 

He knew that he was dramatic. He knew that he was careless about his well-being, and thought too little of himself. He didn't often think ahead, and walked himself into dead ends again and again.
 

Setsuko took his hand, and they walked home.

•
 
•
 
•

Home was the lower wards, the bottommost division of the Machine-class levels. In the wards, compartments were single rooms with beds and showers and toilets that folded down from the walls. There was little privacy, plenty of noise, too many residents, and the air was always heavy.

Takao and Setsuko turned the corner onto their compartment row and stopped.

A man in a vivid red uniform stood at their door. He bore the silvery badge of the Onyx administration group, and straightened up when he saw Takao and his wife approaching.

Setsuko's hand tightened around Takao's.
 

Behave, she whispered through her teeth.
 

The man said, Mr. and Mrs. Ishiguro?
 

I am Takao Ishiguro, said Takao. What have we done?
 

Mr. Ishiguro, the man said, here is your lottery authorization. Your period of eligibility begins today. Best wishes from the Onyx administration.

The man in the red uniform nodded smartly, then left, having changed their lives forever.

•
 
•
 
•

The lottery system had been instituted several hundred years earlier on Station Argus. It had been a dismal opportunity then, and had been extinguished when the Onyx program was overturned. Years later, when the Citadel reintroduced the Onyx program, it also unveiled a new lottery. Machine-class residents were not permitted to reproduce unless they were selected, by lottery, to do so.
 

On Argus, very few Machiners were authorized to reproduce each year. Those who did so without authorization were cruelly stripped of their children at birth, and the orphans were adopted by Onyx residents unable to produce children naturally.
 

It was a vile system at best.

Takao considered all of this while he waited in the physician's lobby for Setsuko, who was having her government-installed birth-control device deactivated. The devices were activated remotely, like bombs. He wondered why they couldn't be deactivated the same way.
 

Setsuko appeared in the doorway then, and he had smiled up at her. She looked nauseous. She opened her mouth to speak to him, and instead vomited.
 

Takao leaped up and went to her, and the physician peeked into the lobby.