Si Vis Pacem (Heinlein's Finches) Page 5
The guys don’t. We all heard the same lecture about how important this shit is to our future, but either they didn’t believe it or they don’t care. They log on a few times, but become frustrated and give up in a matter of hours. I can understand them: they are used to doing grown-up work, work with a purpose. Having to put their time and energy into something that doesn’t achieve anything must be immensely frustrating for them. They are leaving themselves too much time for lamenting our situation, though; that doesn’t achieve anything either, but they sure do a lot of it.
All in all, I feel pretty optimistic about getting to the nexus. It’s a space station, like Pax, but its role is to collect and disgorge passengers on their way to various routes. We will stay there until enough a ship passes through on its way to Alecto, our final destination, or until there are enough passengers heading that way to justify organizing a transfer. In my dreams, the nexus is like Pax: plenty of people but also plenty of room, and enough living things to make me feel that I am part of something, that I am connected to the world around me. The guys will cheer up there, because there will be a lot more to do. We will be able to start on our practical training, too, which may be more up their street. They will snap out of their funk, drink less and work more, and we will start down the path to rebuilding our lives. I know that we can do it, if we work at it and we stick together. They just need to get their heads in the right place.
When we get there, it takes me about five seconds to realize that my dreams were bullshit. Things go downhill from the moment we disembark. We need to go through the security gate to enter the nexus proper, but we can’t because people keep cutting in front of us. It happens enough times that it’s obvious that waiting in line isn’t going to do us a bit of good, but the guys won’t budge. It’s as if they refused to accept that the right way of doing things isn’t the way things are done here, which makes it the wrong way of doing things. We eventually get through only because a group of people waiting behind us take pity upon us and herd us along.
At the security point we are given a set of instructions, including where and when to eat, sleep, and study. We won’t be bunking together, or even in the same corridor. When I ask about it, I get a curt reply pointing out that I’m a girl. I’m aware of that fact and I don’t see its relevance, but the tone of the Guard delivering it doesn’t invite further questions.
I really don’t like walking away from the guys. This station is huge, much bigger than Pax, but it’s so cramped and so busy that I feel claustrophobic. I feel lonely, too. All my life, I’ve never been away from people I knew, who knew me. If anything, finding the time and space to be alone was a struggle. Now I am lost in a sea of people, none of whom know me or care about me, and I feel so desperately alone that I want to curl up and die. As that wouldn’t improve my situation, I carry on walking.
When I get to my room, it’s not as bad as I anticipated. I am sharing with a young mother and her two daughters. They are busy enough with their own concerns and they probably wouldn’t care if I died in my sleep, but they don’t look the sort to do me any harm, so that’s something. The girls are curious, too; they ask me a ton of questions about where I come from and where I am going. Their mother chides them for being nosey, but I can tell that she’s listening to all my answers, and at the end of my interrogation she seems to have warmed up to me.
All the same, when the time comes for breakfast I can’t wait to find the guys. The refectory is huge and packed, so loud with combined voices that I can barely hear myself thinking, but I manage to spot them in the distance. It’s not hard, because Noah is half a head taller than most people here and twice as broad. As soon as I see them my heart lightens. Instead of getting in line for my food I head straight towards them. That avails me nothing, because the place is so crammed with people that I can hardly move. By the time I finally get through the throng, the guys are still there, but their food trays have gone.
“Hi! Have you already eaten?”
Jake blinks at me. “No. Some guys took our food.”
“What?”
“A bunch of guys came up and took our trays away.”
“Why?”
He growls, “Because they wanted to.”
“Don’t take it out on me!”
He rubs his face with his hands. “I’m sorry. I just…”
Noah is standing there, staring into space, his huge hands dangling empty and useless. I feel really sorry for him, but I also feel like yelling at him to snap him out of it. It’s bad enough that he let people pick on him; he can’t give them the satisfaction of knowing that they upset him.
I manage to convince them to come back to the serving area with me, where we discover that they cannot get a second meal. I insist on sharing mine, but all that achieves is that all three of us leave the refectory still hungry.
The guys can’t catch a break. You’d think that I’d have the most problems with bullies because I’m so much smaller and weaker than anyone else, but I can hide in a crowd. I’m good at making myself so insignificant that I’m practically invisible. Noah can’t; he’s so much bigger than everyone else that he can’t help sticking out. That’s half his problem, anyway. The other half is that he’s decided that he won’t fight back no matter what, that he will do the right thing regardless of what happens. That turns his size into a huge disadvantage: instead of protecting him, it makes him a target for anyone who wants to feel bigger by beating on a huge guy. The population on the nexus is constantly shifting, so there is always a new guy who needs to prove something to someone and not a day passes without someone having a pop at Noah. Although the incidents have never escalated to serious fights, he is constantly getting stepped on one way or the other. Most of it is petty shit, but it’s as relentless as it is humiliating. Watching it happen would be bad enough, but my main concern is that Jake and I keep getting caught in the fallout.
I am increasingly torn between my loyalty to them and my sense of self-preservation. I don’t enjoy being constantly harassed and I don’t know how bad things have got to get before the guys change tack. The way things are going, I’m glad that I only see them in the refectory. They get me in enough trouble when I’m there.
When it all started I just hoped that our transfer would come soon, but now I don’t think that would do us any good: if this is the way Outsiders carry on here, I have no reasons to believe they behave any differently anywhere else. My biggest worry is that the transfer will come too late, that something really shitty will happen before then; either someone deciding that Noah not fighting back doesn’t mean that they have to stop beating on him, or Noah finally snapping and seriously hurting someone. I wouldn’t like to bet on which is more likely. My second biggest worry is that things will remain the same, with the guys getting stepped on forever and me getting caught in the crossfire.
When I get called away from my monitor in the middle of the day to go to the Captain’s office, I think that this is it: good or bad, something has finally happened. Noah is dead. Noah is in jail, awaiting a spacing for aggravated assault. Our transfer is here. Those are my main three bets. They roll around my brain as I walk down the corridor, while my stomach tightens and my throat clenches shut.
Jake and Noah are already in the Captain’s anteroom when I get there. Neither looks injured and neither has been arrested, which is a relief, but I can’t relax. I don’t think we’re here to hear about our transfer. If that was it, one of the admin officers would be dealing with us, not keep us waiting on the Captain’s pleasure. Whatever is coming has got to be serious.
It’s a while before we trudge into the office and stand to await our fate. When we finally do, the Captain doesn’t hang about. He doesn’t bother with introductions, or even with looking at us, before starting his spiel.
“We have received a com from Pax. I am afraid it was bad news.”
He doesn’t sound afraid at all. He sounds like he doesn’t give a fuck and he’s just going through the motions. I decide t
hat whatever the news is going to be, I’m not going to give him the satisfaction of seeing me upset.
Jake clearly doesn’t share my sentiment. He lunges forward and is blurting out a question when the Captain raises a hand. “Step back behind the line.” When Jake doesn’t move, the Captain lifts his hand to his screen. “Step back or I will call security, and they will put you back in your place. You’ll only make it harder on yourself. I promise you, under the circumstances that would be overkill.”
Jake glares at him but steps back. The Captain still waits a few moments before lowering his hand.
“Your station suffered from the outbreak of a contagious disease. There were no survivors.”
I hear the words, but they make no sense. They ricochet around my skull instead, repeating on a loop and crashing into each other. When they rise to a screeching crescendo I think I’m going to pass out, but I don’t. That doesn’t make me feel any better.
Noah’s rumble breaks the silence. “I don’t understand.”
“There is very little to understand. A viral disease wiped out the population. It broke out among the animals, then spread to the humans. Damage to structures and equipment was minimal. The station has since been decontaminated and is ready for resettling.”
“But everyone died.”
“Yes,” huffs the Captain. “I thought I had made that abundantly clear. The station is decontaminated and fully fitted, minus livestock. I’ve been tasked with discussing how this affects your options.”
“Our options?”
“Yes. You meet the criteria for resettlement. You have knowledge and experience that would be relevant to the reestablishment of the Pax Torus, although you do not have Fed-approved qualifications to back that up.”
Jake erupts. “Not two weeks ago we were forcibly removed from Pax!”
“Given your attitude, I’m not the least surprised. Raise your voice at me again and you’ll be forcibly removed from this office.”
“But…”
As the Captain raises his hand towards the screen again, Jake exhales and pushes his lips close together.
“If you are quite finished, may I point out to you how very lucky you are. Had you stayed on the torus, you’d be dead. If you decide to participate in the resettlement, there will be some formalities to attend to. A memory wipe may be required. I do not have the fine details. Any necessary procedures will be carried out on Pax. After that, you will be at liberty to resume your life.”
“Resume our…” Jake chokes. “How can we? Everyone is dead!”
The Captain waves Jake’s comments away. “With new people, obviously. You’ll be assigned a group of adequate young adults to carry out all essential tasks and raise children. The children will be supplied, too.”
“What do you mean, ‘the children will be supplied’?”
“It would take way too long for you to breed your own, and your females would be unable to perform the full complement of their duties for too long a period of time. It will be up to you to determine the appropriate time to start your on-station breeding program. I’m sure you’ll get your chance, if that is your concern.”
“What? No! My concern is that everyone is dead and you want to wipe our brains and send us back! And you’re talking about it like it’s normal!”
The Captain leans forward and speaks slowly and quietly. “Kid, I don’t want to do shit to your brains, or to any other part of your anatomy. I am relating an official communication from the Captain for Pax. You’ve been given a choice, which is more than I’d give you. I don’t give two hoots what you do. My job is to tell you what’s what and action your answer.”
Something tugs at my brain. I manage to swallow enough of the knot in my throat to speak without sounding hysterical. “The Captain for Pax. He’s not dead?”
The Captain smirks at me. “If he is, then he’s very dedicated to his job. Captain is a title, not a name.”
“But the Captain’s name, is it the same as the one who shipped us off?”
He glances at his screen. “The names match. So what?”
“So you said that everyone on Pax was dead.”
He rests both hands on his desk and leans forward. He’s scowling so fiercely that I barely stop myself from stepping back.
“The isolation procedures on toy stations fall outside of my purview.”
“Isolation procedures?”
“For Fed personnel.”
“What was the disease?”
“Why does it matter?”
“Because it wiped out my entire world!” I’m panting. My throat hurts. I’ve been screaming. I really didn’t mean to.
When he raises his hand to the screen, I assume that this is it: he’s calling security and having me thrown out, or worse. Instead he swivels the screen around so we can look at it. The screen displays the image of a cylinder covered in spikes, like a stubby, hairy severed thumb.
“This is the viral pathogen in question. With your extensive knowledge of immunology this information will make all the difference, I’m sure.”
“Where does it come from?”
“Where does everything come from? Terra.”
“What?”
“It’s a Terran disease. Highly contagious, generally deadly.”
The more he speaks, the less I can think clearly. My head feels like a jumble of pieces that don’t quite match. I can’t convert them into a cohesive picture. My brain chokes on this last bit of data and seizes up.
The Captain turns his screen around, gets up off his chair, and glares at the three of us. “This is all you need to know, and some. I’ve had about enough of your attitude. I am going to leave this room for exactly five minutes. When I come back, you will give me your answer. If you don’t go to Pax, you’ll be shipped onward to a Youth Sorting Centre as planned. You may find the experience educational.”
He stomps out and leaves us three in the office. Noah and Jake start arguing the toss immediately. They are not really talking, just blabbering over each other without taking the time to listen. That doesn’t matter, though, because neither is making any sense.
I have no reason to believe we’re not being monitored, but there is nothing I can do about it and I have to say my piece, so I just go for it.
“There’s no way this was an accident.”
The guys stare at me, mouths hanging open, so I carry on.
“Just think about it: none of this stacks up. How would a disease like that get on Pax in the first place? We got decontaminated so thoroughly before being allowed on ship that there’s not a microorganism left on or in our bodies that’s our own.”
Jake shrugs. “Maybe that decontamination procedure was only carried out for people leaving, not arriving.”
“It’s the standard procedure for boarding a vessel. I’ve read up about it. Whoever came to Pax would have been decontaminated before being able to get on a ship.”
“Maybe the disease came with an animal. We don’t know that animals didn’t get imported. Hell, we didn’t know that they got exported.”
“I’m willing to bet anything that animals get decontaminated, too.”
“So maybe someone made a mistake. That happens.”
“Sure, but a mistake would have brought on something that is out there, not something from Terra. Hardly anyone goes there these days, and when they do they go on ships. They get decontaminated too. Have you ever wondered why the oldest person on Pax wasn’t even fifty?”
Jake goggles at me like I’m raving. “People die, just like animals do. You must have seen a dead animal in your time.”
“Sure. And I’ve heard of people dying in accidents, but that doesn’t seem enough. Look at the Outsiders around here: there are plenty of them way older than the oldest person I ever saw on Pax.”
“Maybe they just look that old because they’re unhealthy. You’ve seen how they live.”
“Maybe. Or maybe something else happened. Maybe this was deliberate. What if Pax was just an experi
ment? A way to test how a society would develop given a set of resources and rules? Maybe they put the virus out there on purpose, to see how we would react to it. Maybe they just decided to shut the experiment down and start again. Maybe that’s what they do, what they’ve done before. Maybe that’s why nobody was older than fifty: every fifty years or so they just wipe everything out and start again.”
“That’s sick! Thousands of people died!”
“A month ago, if you’d told me that Outsiders raise animals so they can eat their corpses, I would have thought that you were making up stories to frighten me. Now we know they do.”
“That’s different! Look at how they’re treating us! They’re looking after us, in their own fashion. They could have spaced us.”
“They still could.” They both stare at me as if I’ve really lost it. “I don’t know that we’re really people to them. Hell, that’s not even it: I don’t know that they care about people the way we did, or the way we thought we did. I don’t know that human life has an inherent value to them.”
Noah growls, “That’s enough. We’ve just been told that everyone we know is dead, that our entire society is dead. Stop making up horror stories about it! It’s disgusting!”
“But they could be true.”
“It’s still disgusting.”
“But…”
“Stop it! I don’t want to hear it! They are giving us a chance to keep our world alive. Everyone may be dead, but at least the spirit of Pax will endure. I’m going to take it.”
“The spirit of Pax? We were raising animals so Outsiders could eat them and we didn’t even know about it!”
“There was more to it than that. You’ve seen how these people live. You’ve felt the ambient level of violence. To them it’s normal. It’s natural. To them, might makes right – that, and their damn class system. I don’t want to live like this. I don’t want to have to constantly fight to protect what’s mine. I want to go home.”
“Our home was completely made up!”
“So is any society! That is what a society is: a series of made-up rules people agree to follow as if they were inherently the right way to live! And ours wasn’t half as fucked up as this one.”