The Long Arm

[Orwell]

Spoiler

 

"It's artificially stocked, of course."

 

"But of course."

 

The carp's gaping mouths opened and close at the surface as maize kernels pelt the water.

They thrash around, packing so tightly together that they roll on top of one another.

After a few moments, the splashing stops, and the carp disperse.

 

"Hardly the same, but, we all have to make do."

 

"Mmm."

 

The man was clad in Mobile Infantry dress, and had hardened scar tissue over a broad stretch of his head where no hair grew.

Maybe in his forties, he stood at the bank and looked at the reflection of Omnicron 2 Eridani on the water. Warped images of

looming civilian freighters pushed onto the liquid. Not too long ago, things were much different.

 

"I don't think I ever asked about the surrender."

 

"Most people don't."

 

His gloves were wet and warm as he tried to stem the bleeding. Lieutenant Carson's eyes began to roll around behind her lids. Great care was taken to not crush her larynx. Her face was quickly losing color as the boom of TAC engines shooting by sounded overhead. They had gotten so far, but all they had to show for it were corpses and spent rounds. She tried to speak, but there was only gurgling.

It wasn't supposed to end like this.

 

"It's kind of a blur."

 

And in ways, it was. The chaos and confusion that followed reunification was reigned in by the Finch Act, but the trauma was just under the surface.

 

"You were here, no?"

 

"Not far from here. They've fixed Achilles up quite a bit since then."

 

The water ripples outwards, and refracts off the edges of the pond. The dark forms of the carp swirl beneath the surface.

 

"She must've been quite headstrong, staying after the order to retreat."

 

"I don't think any of us were expecting to live."

 

"And here you are, back again."

 

"The transition wasn't exactly the smoothest."

 

"You won't let your connection to her get in the way of this?"

 

"What do you mean? She was a fine leader. To the very end."

 

Another handful of maize is cast out onto the water. Again, the thrashing of the carp commences.

 

"Besides. She's our only connection to him. If anybody, why not me?"

 

The carp untangle from their massive knot, and spread out on the bottom of the pool.

 

Spoiler

 

Things were different in Malawi. Operation Crocodile was coming to a close.

Life was slowly trickling back into Chikwawa. 

The massive urban sprawl had sustained relatively low damage in comparison to other cities in southeast Africa.

Despite this, there was construction everywhere. 

The sky was obscured with the smoggy verniers of ships; civilian and military.

A shadow of itself, but a bustling hive nonetheless.

 

The dry season had been hard, and yields were low. 

Blights were frequent. The yams always came up shriveled, and the millet often died off before harvest.

Bodies tainted the soil.

 

Today was different.

There was much cause for celebration. It had been the first successful harvest since reconquest.

Gene and seedling banks left near the poles proved indispensable.

 

A large open venue with long tables and accommodation for hundreds. 

The roaring rhythm of music and the smashing of glasses. Bitter stout staining the ground.

The sigh of hundreds.

For the first time in a while, there was a charge in the air that he hadn't felt for a long time.

It wasn't that long ago, he remembered.

 

His men beamed, arm-in-arm with locals, singing and dancing.

Months ago, they used the venue to burn off Neons.

 

"Congratulations, Captain."

 

He was toasted. They were toasted.

A toast to the Federation, to humanity, to our struggle.

 

 

 

Spoiler

 

 

They were surrounded on all sides by long warped stalks of sugar cane.

Down the dirt road, they could see the fires licking the sky from the old batey as they were called. The sky quaked with unnerving dissonances as a Neon craft pierced the clouds above them.

 

Although it was only 0600, the heat was beginning to take its toll.

Their boots trampled the old wilted husks. When the stalks shift, a barrage of .308 follows.

 

They could see the batey from the knoll to the south. Its shanty walls were perforated perfectly by the usual suspects. They could even smell the burning metal.

 

"You see this shit, Romero?"

 

"Yeah, sarge."

 

"When I'm out here, lookin' at all this bullshit, in this hot, hot Santo Domingo weather..."

 

"...Yeah?"

 

"...I'm thinking about how much easier things woulda' been if you Sanctuary fuckers woulda' just capitulated six months ago. We could be landing in Veracruz right now, instead of taking out trash in Hispaniola."

 

"I've lived it down. So has everyone else."

 

"No, not everyone else, you fucking spick. I don't care what rank you've got now, but I know you weren't no fuckin' clueless private back then. You've got blood on your hands, whether you admit it or not."

 

Smoke rose from the fields to the north. Neither had realized that their whole group had come to a stop to watch their exchange.

 

"This heat is getting to you, sergeant. I served the Federation, just like y-"

 

Bam.

In an instant, he was set on his back. His body collided with the earth and kicked up a plume of choking dust.

 

As he caught his breath and rubbed his face, he could hear the Neon ships coming back for more.

 

 

 

Spoiler

 

 

All he heard was the pounding of blood, coursing around his head.

Sweat dripped off his face.

 

"Put your hands up."

 

It didn't register. He was desperately trying to stem the bleeding.

Tunnel vision, as it was.

 

"It's over, top."

 

The collision of a barrel against his back prompted his bloody hands upwards.

It was too late by then.

That horrifying look of terror on her face.

 

A gap in time, and a blur of events that could only be described as 'processing.'

Whoever was left, they all knew it was a matter of time now.

They kept them there, in camps on the surface. 

On those long nights in the ruins, the stars shone brightly.

He looked up at the same constellation Carson had pointed up to.

 

"That, troopers, is what's at stake."

 

Looking back, he was foolish to think that O'Brian had something up her sleeve.

How different was she from Hudson?

 

He could not explain their defeat in any kind of context.

The walls had fallen out, and so had the house along with it.

Everything had lost meaning.

The paradigm had shifted, and he was caught in the middle.

They would've hanged her if she lived, he thought.

 

To feel ill in one's skin.

To doubt everything, and to feel a shame like none other.

 

All they could do was watch.

 

 

[Orwell]

Spoiler

 

 

It had only been for a second, but in the howling basin it was over before it began.

His helmet went flying; by several accounts it should've taken his head off.

 

Immediately, the blood rushing from the side of his face.

Throbbing, stabbing pain paralyzing him in the dust.

Through clenched teeth, he screamed in agony.

He was seeing stars, and struggling to hold his skin to his sweaty head.

The Bugs around him were dead.

His bloody hands went down to his kit, fumbling for gauze.

 

"Romero! Romero, we're coming!"

 

The blinding sun of a penlight, swiveling over the iris.

Smack, smack.

 

He could feel them pressing against his head.

This was it.

 

Carson was there, directing the rest of the wounded's entourage.

Her fatigues were torn, and bandages wound up her left arm.

 

They were asking her something. His heart sunk.

 

He thought they might do it, for a brief moment. 

Everything melted away soon enough. 

Survival became prioritized above all else.

All he had to do was survive.

 

 

 

Spoiler

 

 

 

A deep, cutting wind blew from offshore against the rocky outcroppings of alien rock jutting out of the churning sea.

The sky churned; gray and blue pillars highlighted by the flashing of lightning nestled within their massive forms. 

Near the ship, the sky had opened up. 

 

Dropships were buzzing around the beached carcass of the Voyager Liverpool.

The freighter had been found abandoned off the islands.

 

Delays of a day or so were not unusual on the shipping lines,

but inquiries were made after a week had passed.

 

The search was intensified in light of recent events.

 

All the pieces were coming together.

 

The deck was wet, and he stood outside in a glistening rubber poncho. 

His mind went back to that chance encounter back in Sanctuary days.

 

What are you expecting to find, exactly?

Who?

 

The rooms had fallen into disrepair and neglect.

A far cry from those cozy battle cruisers.

To be blindsided.

It was a contradiction to him.    

Maybe a mistake of some kind.

It didn't make sense.

 

This was the best way to figure out what happened.

 

 

Spoiler

 

 

"Like this."

 

One follows the other. The first carries the stick.

The first jabs the soil with the stick.

The second drops the seeds, and packs the dirt with their foot.

 

"Ndiwe wosokonezeka."

 

Outpaced and outmatched, but at least his life wasn't at stake.

They needed all the help they could get.

 There were many who passed out from the heat on those first weeks, including him.

They were side by side with people of all stripes.

Never had he seen so many different people from all over the galaxy.

Blight destroyed the crops, and everything had to be re-sown.

 

When they weren't on the reclaimed fields, they were out in the ruins on the border.

From the toppled shopping centers they could see the expansive network of row after row of polished prefabricated housing.

Nestled into what hadn't been leveled.

 

"I never thought I'd be doing something like this."

 

The voice came from the front. He was looking down, trying to cover the seeds with his boot.

 

"Part-time farmer. It makes sense, I guess."

 

"Shit, man. If I wanted to sow crops and dig ditches I woulda' stayed home."

 

They were flying in the massive combines nearby.

The sun wavered above the horizon. It was much easier to plant in the shade of the dusk or dawn.

Glossy light warbled off the chromatic chassis of the hulking equipment.

At night, they slept around the radio.

Berating, jeering, sympathizing and hoping.

He didn't mind the slower pace. The threat was not very far off, after all.

Seeing something besides death reminded him of what he was fighting for.

Regardless, the threatening image of scattering Arachnids danced around in their minds.

 

He overturned the soil, and saw wriggling rotten chords pulsating in the earth.

 

 

[Orwell]

Spoiler

"Is it true?"

 

Rows of shaved heads and drab jumpsuits.

High, high ceilings and bright lights gleaming down.

 

Baumer used to be a ground sergeant, but he was a sniveling boy now.

He said they got his people outside of Achilles, after a TAC strike had killed their command.

His slimy eyeballs rolled around to each of their faces.

 

"She's not really dead, is she?"
 

People looked around. The jangling of bindings.

 

"That's what they're saying. The Sky Marshal, you know? Do you? Has anyone..."

 

It could be a tactic, sure. But, at this point it didn't really matter whether they had killed her or not.

Either way, they were in custody. They had done everything they could at this point. 

The last great hurrah was to be had at Sanctuary.

Deep down, he knew that the fight was basically over.

The only delusion to entertain was solely for the sake of the men.

For the weepy-eyed Baumers.

 

Big guy jabs his stump into Baumer's back, and his shackles jangle.

 

"You keep your mouth shut, sayin' things you don't know."

 

They picked him up near Parson's Rest.

They were waiting in the bush. That's how he lost his hand.

 

They were all in line, waiting to be deprogrammed.

 

"You're being quiet, Lieutenant."
 

"Things may pretty grim, but..."
 

Another group was sent in beyond the door into a large hall.

 

"As long as Sanctuary stands, we'll hide our face and bear it. The best we can hope for is fairness. Stay strong, and remember your training."

 

He hated the sound of the words leaving his mouth.

Anyone with eyes could see the writing on the wall.

If Carson were still alive, there would...

 

No, it's much too much.

 

 

Spoiler

 

 

She was alive. They found her, half-unconscious in a pod with her cadre. 

He watched the flickering screen, showing the Ark cut through both fleets like a sheet of paper.

A glittering battlefield suspended in space.

That massive station, slamming into the earth.

 

They found out in the evening, during dinner.

They had her in custody, and she was expected to surrender.

 

He felt relieved.

He felt angry that he felt relieved.

His principles were discarded, and his muse was as dead as the thousands above Sanctuary.

He was ashamed, but he couldn't help it.

So much had been lost, it felt like a never-ending nightmare had finally ended, and a new one began.

Now more than ever, he missed her.        

 

Nothing would be the same, now.

 

Everything had been severed, and they were floating away.

 

 

Spoiler

 

"He's been demoted since, sir."

 

An air of unease had enveloped the complex; the garrison was assembled in lines, tired from having been berated and 

 

Fort Armstrong was crawling with his men, holding up orderlies. The whole are had been shut down.

He was going over the log, running down the list with his finger until he met it.

 

"This is the one?"

 

"Yes sir. No such person. We've run inventory a dozen times, trying to make sure we didn't miss anything else.

As far as we know, it was just the lithium."

 

"I see. We're going to be bringing the involved parties along for questioning. We'll send them back on a shuttle once we're finished. I appreciate your cooperation."

 

"...I apologize, sir. This is quite unbecoming, and the men have been severely reprimanded..."

 

"It could be a fluke, but my gut tells me otherwise. Either way..."

 

No, couldn't be. Too many arrows pointing in one direction. The developments are fitting together.

 

 

 

"Do you think they did it, Major? I mean- with Tango Urilla."

 

"I'm just in charge of bringing them in."

 

"Surely, sir, you've got an opinion?"

 

"No, I don't. You're pushing it. Like I said, your help's been appreciated, and we'll try and make this as painless as possible."

 

"Of course, sir. Understood, sir."