the flavor. The hit to your adrenals is nearly instant, and it may make you feel like crawling out of your skin, but any residual fatigue or lack of awareness gets wiped out. The Spectras aren’t known for their welcoming populations and generally aren’t as well policed as the Admin-regulated Obal planets. If you’re walking around on a Spectra or one of their moons, you’re in charge of your own ass, and you’d better be ready to watch it.
The craft’s scanners show no Admin or Corps traffic in the vicinity as we sweep past the moon’s largest outpost, a non-citizen trader’s settlement called Iron Downs and our best chance for securing the things we need to blend and regroup. The three of us gather around the navigation holoprojection to decide where to land.
“I know it’s a hike, but we don’t want to get a craft like this too close to the city,” David says. “Let’s land in the shade of these rocks four klicks northeast. They’ll create enough interference to help us hide the ship from most long-distance radar, and with the cloak engaged, we’ll be basically invisible to anyone not knocking at the hatch.”
In agreement, I turn to the controls and put us on course. Addressing Soltznin, I start, “Tech Two—”
“Look,” she interrupts, “it’s probably best if we drop the military speak. Just call me Soltznin.”
I nod and give her a quick grin. “Right, Soltznin. You and I will go into the Downs, and David, you stay with the ship.” He opens his mouth to protest, then shuts it. Right now the ship is our lifeline and only asset. Neither of us wants to leave it in the hands of a stranger, even if that stranger had saved our lives. “The first thing we need to do is get some currency.”
“You planning to rob someone?” David asks, half joking.
“No, trade. This ship makes us a target, but I bet there are at least a dozen scalpers on this rock who would be willing to take it off our hands for a reasonable price.”
David and Soltznin both turn their eyes to me sharply. “Aly,” he says, “this is our transportation. Without it we’re stuck here.”
“Yeah, true. But do you have somewhere better to be?”
The question dangles in the air, not going away on its own. I see the full impact of what it means settling into the lines of their faces. Because I’m right; if we’re not rendezvousing with the nearest fleet cruiser, we are no longer soldiers. We are deserters.
Deserters.
The Political and Capital Administration of the Advanced Worlds is based on a bedrock principle, that all people are one of three things: citizen, soldier, or nothing, more commonly known as a non-citizen. But now we’re entering new territory, a territory that subverts those three basics, a territory of criminals, lowlifes, malefactors—and deserters. Occupants of this territory have two guarantees: no sympathy from the rest of society, and death.
“Aly…” Unsure what to add, David trails off.
But my focus is on Soltznin, who seems to be doing her best to absorb the impact of this revelation without giving her own thoughts about it away.
After a second, I continue, “So we’re all agreed.” I don’t make it a question and turn back to the console to begin the landing sequence. “Be ready. We’ll be down in a minute. David, will you take over? I want to get geared up.”
I feel his eyes linger on me for another moment, trying to understand what’s going on in my head, but then he gives up and takes the controls.
While checking the action on my AK-80 carbine and putting as much ammo as I can fit into my equipment vest, I outline the plan I’ve been pondering since we left. “Our VDUs are synced. Soltznin, if anyone questions us, we’re still playing soldier, at least until we can ditch these uniforms. Our story is that we’re here on routine patrol. We’ll check in with David every hour. If we miss a check-in…”
His eyebrows raise in a query, but there really isn’t an if . If we
The craft’s scanners show no Admin or Corps traffic in the vicinity as we sweep past the moon’s largest outpost, a non-citizen trader’s settlement called Iron Downs and our best chance for securing the things we need to blend and regroup. The three of us gather around the navigation holoprojection to decide where to land.
“I know it’s a hike, but we don’t want to get a craft like this too close to the city,” David says. “Let’s land in the shade of these rocks four klicks northeast. They’ll create enough interference to help us hide the ship from most long-distance radar, and with the cloak engaged, we’ll be basically invisible to anyone not knocking at the hatch.”
In agreement, I turn to the controls and put us on course. Addressing Soltznin, I start, “Tech Two—”
“Look,” she interrupts, “it’s probably best if we drop the military speak. Just call me Soltznin.”
I nod and give her a quick grin. “Right, Soltznin. You and I will go into the Downs, and David, you stay with the ship.” He opens his mouth to protest, then shuts it. Right now the ship is our lifeline and only asset. Neither of us wants to leave it in the hands of a stranger, even if that stranger had saved our lives. “The first thing we need to do is get some currency.”
“You planning to rob someone?” David asks, half joking.
“No, trade. This ship makes us a target, but I bet there are at least a dozen scalpers on this rock who would be willing to take it off our hands for a reasonable price.”
David and Soltznin both turn their eyes to me sharply. “Aly,” he says, “this is our transportation. Without it we’re stuck here.”
“Yeah, true. But do you have somewhere better to be?”
The question dangles in the air, not going away on its own. I see the full impact of what it means settling into the lines of their faces. Because I’m right; if we’re not rendezvousing with the nearest fleet cruiser, we are no longer soldiers. We are deserters.
Deserters.
The Political and Capital Administration of the Advanced Worlds is based on a bedrock principle, that all people are one of three things: citizen, soldier, or nothing, more commonly known as a non-citizen. But now we’re entering new territory, a territory that subverts those three basics, a territory of criminals, lowlifes, malefactors—and deserters. Occupants of this territory have two guarantees: no sympathy from the rest of society, and death.
“Aly…” Unsure what to add, David trails off.
But my focus is on Soltznin, who seems to be doing her best to absorb the impact of this revelation without giving her own thoughts about it away.
After a second, I continue, “So we’re all agreed.” I don’t make it a question and turn back to the console to begin the landing sequence. “Be ready. We’ll be down in a minute. David, will you take over? I want to get geared up.”
I feel his eyes linger on me for another moment, trying to understand what’s going on in my head, but then he gives up and takes the controls.
While checking the action on my AK-80 carbine and putting as much ammo as I can fit into my equipment vest, I outline the plan I’ve been pondering since we left. “Our VDUs are synced. Soltznin, if anyone questions us, we’re still playing soldier, at least until we can ditch these uniforms. Our story is that we’re here on routine patrol. We’ll check in with David every hour. If we miss a check-in…”
His eyebrows raise in a query, but there really isn’t an if . If we
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