The
children’s names were Abdan and Mershi. Preteens, traumatized.
Everyone helped, but Mazi turned out to be surprisingly good with
them. Jase started teaching them how to read and the Ambassador would
knit them garments while being petted by them. Mazi took all of their
gear out of their quarters and it was remade into a room for the
kids.
But
they had been raised as slaves, outside of civilized humanspace. All
they knew was being used cruelly. That’s why Mazi was good with
them, despite being scarred and brutal; Mazi knew what it was like to
have to share air with broken wrecks. Mazi could tell when they
wanted to eat, or cuddle with the Ambassador, or needed to be alone.
The
children, with the way they grew up, they couldn’t even imagine an
angel, To them the Ambassador was a big softpet. The luckiest child
slaves got a hand-me-down or cast-offt; they were the currency of
their rudimentary economy. The ambassador knitted, and piece by piece
replaced the oversize garments that the crew gave them to replace the
filthy rags they had been wearing.
Mershi
knew some words and letters, Abdan was completly illiterate. Jase did
their best to teach them. Wer thought that, considering Jase’s
temperment, they would have gotten along, but after a brief period of
awkwardly getting to know each other Wer could have sworn that the
children had began getting the better of and taking advantage of
Jase. Wer shrugged, lit a cigarette.
Completely
unsurprisingly Jase was the only one that had any media that was both
appropriate and that they found engaging. For games night cards, dice
and Panzerkraft was replaced with children’s games that Jase
printed out from an entertainment archive on his server. Snakes,
ladder, micetraps, dice under plastic domes. It was actually a relief
playing the completely luck based boardgames after the repeated farce
of the Ambassador pretending that they couldn’t win at every hand
of poker.; their performance had been flawless, leaving no one
feeling condescended, but it was still an insult to their
intelligences when they thought about it afterwards.
-
Wer
had been expecting past-date MREs. Instead it was a durafoam case of
fresh fish sealed in transparent foil packets. They were unpacking
the pallet of supplies after the initial business with the children
had been taken care of.
“These
say ‘Product of Hades’ on them. Assuming that nobody would sell
counterfeit Hades raised fish on Hades, how infested and polluted do
you think these are?”
“They
can’t be any worse than these blank label cigarettes that you’re
going to suck down. Besides, I’ve seen you smoke fucking fast Wer,
while you were integrated with the fucking helm. You used to call
yourself the human garbage can.”
“That
time was an emergency Mazi, I’m way too old for fast anymore.
Anyways, I’m not worried about myself but the Ambassador doesn’t
smoke, Jase doesn’t smoke, the kids don’t...” Wer stopped and
looked at Mazi.
“Both
of them Wer. Slaves get by with whatever they can.”
“Well,
I’m not going to take away whatever small pleasure they have after
the hell their lives have been.”
Wer
continued digging through the pallet. “Anyways, if you knew that
then you damn well have better bought extra cigarettes as well.”
-
Jase
figured out how to make fish sticks. It was the only thing the kids
liked, everyone else resigned themselves to fish sticks for every
meal. The Ambassador gave all of the fruit from the plants they kept
in their cabin to the children, after peeling and cutting them them
up. Wer had seen the signs of malnutrition and had talked to them
about it. The Ambassador did a convincing performance of pretending
that they hadn’t already thought about it.
One
time Wer found Jase watching recordings of the encounter with the
grown up ship at Hades. Wer watched for several minutes as Jase
changed camera, speed, rewound, repeated. Wer sparked a cigarette.
“what are you looking for Jase?”
“I
feel like I’m missing something.”
Wer
sighed. You miss everything with the grown ups, that’s why they’re
gods.
“Okay
Jase, let me know if you find anything you think is important.”
-
Mazi
had slung a hammock in the hold. Snorted when Wer asked if they were
okay bunking there.
Wer
shrugged, “I still have to ask. I know your ass is made out of
granite but I gotta do due diligence. Anyways, do you think we can
drop the kids off at Gilead?”
“An
illegal colony of a primitivist cult outside of civilization? Maybe I
should have left them at Hades instead Wer.”
“Fuck
off Mazi. They’re some sort of peace church, maybe they’re not
that crazy. Maybe the kids are better off far away from civilization,
the cops and the corps, at least out there they might have some sort
of freedom.”
“Wer,
I’ve been through bad shit, you fucking know that. And I went
through it with a bunch of others, and most of them didn’t make it.
I’m telling you those kids need real help.”
“It’s
an isolated colony Mazi, even if they are a primitivist cult, they
still might have good mental health care. How about we check it out
the colony and then we can talk? We’re still getting there well
before the rendezvous. Always arrive early. I get it, you did the
right thing and you want to follow it through. I support it. I just
don’t know if the kids are going to be that safe with us.”
“We
check out the colony Wer. Any bad vibes, we take them somewhere
better.”
-
Wer
was dreaming. The ship was dark, quiet. He got up from his bunk. His
door was open. Walking down the corridor, he could see dim flickering
light from the bridge.
One
of the children was there, standing before a console flickering with
white noise. The child put their hand out, palm first, and pressed it
against, through and into the console display.
Wer
tried, couldn’t move. Legs unresponsive, body slow, clumsy,
anaesthetized.
The
child leaned back, forearm immersed in the console. The white noise
spreading up out and around the console.
Slow
the child turned, their body rubbery, and Wer was frozen staring into
eyes full of white noise, getting larger, pulling them forward....
-
Gilead
was a young planet. Larger than Earth, but with a less dense crust.
It still had a magnetosphere. Liquid water. Life, primitive plants
and invertebrates, simple enough to both crudely compatible with
human biochemistry without significant issues.
The
Vespers were some variety of breakaway heretic Catholic sect:
egalitarian, communal, pacifist, repudiating technology that they
felt was detrimental to the soul. Wer had no idea when the last time
a ship had been in the system. They had no communication facilities
so the transit from the gravity wall was deaf.
-
“Those
are fucking gibbets Wer. Wheels. Cages. This is fucking medieval shit
Wer.”
“I
see the bodies Mazi. I see the smoke and I see the people.” Wer
lowered the binoculars, “We keep the kids with us until we find
someplace good.”
Mazi
nodded. Looked through their binoculars at the village. “This looks
really fucking ugly.”
“You
want to find out what happened?”
Mazi
snorted, look at Wer, raised an eyebrow.
“Okay,
let’s get back up and stay in offdirt until the meetup.”
-
It
was better part of a week before the meet. The crew started getting
tense again. Everyone had been looking forward to time on actual
habitable pleasant planet. From orbit running slow detail scans it
looked like whatever had happened had happened in everywhere. They
found a couple of battlefields strew with bodies. The agricultural
fields looked wrong, bruised and stained.
-
Wer
heard a knock at the door to their cabin. Sighed, took a deep drag
off of the spliff. “Come in.”
Jase
entered, carrying a dataslab, shut the door.
“What’s
this about Jase?”
Jae
held up the ‘slab. There was a piece of paper on it, “Always assume that someone is listening”
Wer
nodded.
Jase
removes the piece of paper, shows the slab display
It’s
a video, paused. Half of the display is a video capture of the bridge
during the encounter with the ship at Hades. The other half is a
composite of external cameras. The blobs. The receding ship-thing in
one square.
Jase
points at the Ambassador, zooms in on their hands, knitting. Starts
the video.
The
needles flashe. The audio was off but Wer imagines the clicking.
The
video runs until Mazi turns and obviously glares at the ambassador.
The ambassador stops knitting.
Jase
rewinds the video. Plays it again, slower.
Wer
leans forward, watching. The video runs until the knitting stops.
Jase
plays it again, slower. And then again, even slower.
Halfway
through the playback Wer nods, holds out his hand for the piece of
paper, writes on it, holds it up.
“Show
Mazi”
-