I could only dig.
Each clump of dirt was a tiny piece of this imprisoning planet, earth/Earth that I tore into on my long way home. The new tunnel grew this way, carved by Poleepkwan hands and simple human tools. My own small fists seemed to hardly make a dent in the growing cavern. The others, of course, tried to dissuade me, told me to leave the work to the larger and stronger. But the tension in my body and the fire in my eyes must have convinced Eric that I was better off helping him than I would be breaking more equipment.
There was nothing else to do. Akra had none of the devices he needed, here, for a transmission. Helping liberate refugees was out of the question, until we dug a new entrance and located another, safer shipyard. I couldn’t even skulk about in the night and dispense cans of food, with the only way out collapsed. Jared and the other courageous children remained aboveground, recruiting from MNU schools and learning from Christian. In that, at least, Kurt had failed.
I think it was on the third monotonous day that Eric grabbed my frantically-digging hands. He didn’t speak, only lifted them to my own face until I saw the blood oozing from half a dozen ragged, soil-encrusted scrapes.
I lowered my hands sheepishly and reached for a first aid kit. “I know how you must feel.” Eric sighed. “But those rocks—they aren’t him.”
“I
know.” I swabbed at a cut so roughly that my resinous black skin ripped
further. The fire in my chest was constant and tinged with shame—I’d never seen
Father truly angry. Even when I’d watched the “District 9” documentary on my
computer…that man Wikus had betrayed him a dozen times over. Most people would
have torn him apart when he stole the fluid and came back looking for help. Or
at least not looked over their shoulders on the way to the command module that he had stolen and wrecked! But not my Daddy. Even when that betrayal had brought him this close to death he had said,
“No. We stick together. I’m not leaving
you here.”
If Father had ever felt what burned in me now, he’d never shown it. He’d spoken out against MNU, of course, even joined Pro Forma—but his hate had never blinded him. Father was with Pro Forma until he figured out the truth about their civilian attacks, their senseless killings. Of course, in August of last year, MNU had come after us anyway. Just for his guilt by association. Now, I’d lain awake for nights thinking about Pro Forma terrorists, stoic Father, and revenge. Would they be able to find Kurt? To make him pay? No, not them, not their methods—they would probably kill his entire family, blow up his house! It couldn’t be worth it. He was going down—but only him. Not all humans, only humans like him…I wrapped my hands with white gauze, my mind dark and distant.
Every word of that video was seared into my brain. I couldn’t forget his newest e-mail, either, though Akra had told me not to respond to it. I wouldn’t—there was no point.
Hiya again! It's me, Kurt. I'm not going to send you another video link; you'll probably try to pick out landmarks and figure out where I am instead of paying attention to what I'm saying, which defeats the purpose of talking. I read your little story. You seem to not be handling my past actions well...why were you so surprised by what I did? I'm MNU, kiddo: it's my job. I don't love it, I don't hate it, I just do it. If you aren't crazy and half of the stuff in your blog actually happened, you've seen worse in your short life. Stuff like this happens all the time, honey, to both Prawns and humans alike.
Anyway, where was I? Oh yeah: the schools. Don't you realize that you're only hurting your people by teaching them to resist MNU? Teaching science and mathematics is fine, but telling them to stop thinking of themselves as Prawns and instead be “Poleepkwa” will only get them killed. That's one of the most prominent rules we grunts have, sweetie: eliminate any signs of rebellion or anti-MNU ideals. You and your comrades have been teaching your fellow Prawns how to get killed.
Besides all this policy and education, there's another thing. (This is strictly off-the-book, just so you know.) What happens when the ship doesn't return in three years? That seems to be the entire focus behind this whole Prawn/'Poleepkwa' movement, but what will you do when he doesn't show? Wait another few years, a decade, perhaps? Grow old and die here on Earth while waiting for a savior? It's somewhat perplexing to hear your blog and how strongly you think of your father, Sherry, because you say you don't believe in an afterlife or religion. With all this talk of Christopher coming back and saving his people, you're beginning to sound like a Christian. Just something for you to think about.
Anyway, I've got to go. There's work to do. Take care,
-Kurt Jackson, MNU employee.
"Only MNU liars don’t think Father will come back. And I hope you don't believe in Ryan’s God," I growled. “Because I don’t think He would care whether you torture children for work, or for play! I only sound like a Christian because the person I have faith in isn't supernatural. He's not going to rapture us up to some mystical place, just return us to where we once were, where we belong."
Eric stared at me. “What?”
I startled—had I really said that out loud? “I—nothing. Never mind.”
He knelt down and re-wrapped my bandages, fixing the haphazard, crisscrossing pattern that I’d made. His onyx-and-jade shell-plates seemed almost flat brown from the dirt. “You’ve got to take a break.” He clicked firmly. I didn’t move. “At least get some food, and go talk to Ryan. He’s worried about you. Akra, too. Then you can come back.”
“All right.” I sighed.
It pained me to see Akra resting on a cot under a rough earthen ceiling, instead of beneath that MNU building surrounded by video screens. At least his coughing seemed to have subsided, and he greeted me with a warm embrace.
“Elder!” I nearly laughed when he spun me about in his arms. “Are you feeling any better?
“Not exactly... But determination is stronger than my well-being.”
“I'm glad you're safe in here. I'm so sorry about your hideout...if I'd known; I never would have let Micha—have let anyone else see where it was.”
He set me down on the cot beside him, antennae twitching consolingly. “There is nothing there that cannot be replaced... It is not your fault, my child. At least, I did not lose you...”
“You care about me so much!” I smiled up into his deep yellow eyes. “I know it's stupidly selfish, but I'm glad that you're here. I mean, none of us should be in this hellish place! But you’re so wise…to have you with us is a greater thing than I could have imagined.”
He smiled softly. “My life is better having known you, Sherry Johnson. I am glad I can spend my days here with you...”
I swished my head-antennae in negation. “I just wish that you didn't have to!”
He touched my face. “We are here. Wishing you weren't will not make it so.”
My back straightened. “What about wishing to find Kurt? I know we can't get to him now--but there's no way he's getting away with this.”
“He will not. I will not see my people murdered without taking action. And I will not see you threatened.”
I could feel my muscles unclench, my body sink deeper into the cot with relief. If even the wise Elder counseled revenge—surely, it would happen.
He smoothed back my antennae and smiled. “It will be okay, Sherry... you will see home. And your father.”
“I know. It’s just that I miss him so much! And Oliver...I keep seeing him in my head. Being tortured by that human. Dying, like Michael...”
Akra shook his head, pulling me close again. “Shh... Don't think of it, my child.” I leaned against his arms, my eyelids drooping. So much digging, so little rest…I hadn’t realized how exhausted I was until Ryan’s words awoke me, perhaps an hour later.
“I just got a message from the Texas base.” I blinked; he didn’t seem to realize I’d been asleep. “Toni won’t be coming. Not for a couple weeks, I mean.” He sighed, a stiff set to his pink, dust-lined lips. He’d clearly been digging, too. “ARFA doesn’t think she should come to South Africa at all, not enough ‘field experience.’ But your blog has attracted quite a bit of attention, and they want that. As soon as that journalist volunteered...”
“Wait. ARFA? Journalist?”
He cocked his head to the side. “ARFA. Alien Rights and Freedom Association.” He smiled at my confused expression. “They started the bases, they keep them running.” He gestured to a stack of preserved meat and jerky in the far corner. “You didn’t think I paid for all of those myself, did you? Dayna will bring the journalist here in a week or so…oh, this is from Christian.”
He handed me a filthy, rolled-up piece of paper. My heart leaped—I won’t be foolish enough to mention the ways that a small message can travel from the ground above, but we have our methods. I unrolled it to read his thick, ornate Poleepkwan script.
Dear Sherry,
I am all right as far as my well-being goes, but mentally this has been fairly jarring. It is such a difference from how I am used to living. The lack of freedom is appalling, and I am not at all sure how to continue my facade. I must find a way soon, as routine inspections are approaching quite rapidly. I have remained unnoticed as of yet, but the thought of closer interaction with the guards has raised my worries.
I will be attending to these letter drops every other day. If more than three days passes and you have not heard from me, then assume that the worst has happened. In such an event, do not attempt any sort of rescue or other rash actions. I am able to hold my own under duress, and your location will follow me to the grave.
On a slightly more upbeat note, I will be continuing with classes, and plan on holding one sometime within the coming week. I look forward to seeing the children again, with their bright eyes and eager minds, but I will miss your face among the crowd. I will be sure to explain some of what has happened to Jared and your other friends, so that they do not worry unnecessarily about you. The loss of Michael and the other refugees should be kept secret from them for now, as their hopes are high and I do not wish to lower them so soon.
Good Luck,
Christian Heffner
I took a long, deep breath. “If I write him a…return note, will he get it? Can we get it to him?” Ryan nodded. I rummaged about for a pen and paper, and then poured the words forth in our native lettering.
Dear Christian,
When I read your first e-mail, you reminded me a bit of Father—unusually intelligent, and obviously willing to step out into danger for our people. Although I never knew him to write like a thesaurus, or to use the word “Howdy!” That’s all you.
Then, when we met in person, I saw you as my own first failure—one Poleepkwa who I couldn’t save from this world, as I promise Father I will almost every night in my dreams. If it was his role to spend twenty years gathering together our only hope of rescue, then it must be mine to use these three years to prepare all our people for the day he returns. So to find you, someone who doesn’t want the freedom that he will make possible, a Poleepkwa who rejects home and hive and calls himself a “man”…I saw you as proof of my failure in my role, and my greatest fear for our future. That we will become bent, domesticated; slaves to the humans. Prawns. That there will be nothing left of us for Father to rescue.
Now, here we are. You’ve proven yourself an amazing teacher, and more dedicated than words could say. You’re risking your life aboveground to continue the secret school that MNU has appointed a very determined sadist to end. Anyone can say that you’re brave, and that you’re an asset to our people—despite the differences between you and me. All I can add is that you don’t simply remind me of Father. You are someone I know he will be pleased to meet.
Keep your spirits up, “Professor.” Even as you scrounge in the dirt for MNU’s scraps, and teach the truth alone, in danger. Although you have always been a mystery to me, I know that there is some strength in you—a strength that can easily carry you through what you’re facing now, and safely back to us. Then in three years, whether you choose to stay or go, I will introduce you to Father myself. I promise he will know you as the “man” who could have stayed in a safe haven, but charged into District 10 to help keep our hope alive.
Good Luck, and See You Soon,
Sherry Johnson
I’d always thought that swallowing one’s pride was a figure of speech, but I actually felt a thick mass in my throat as I folded up the letter and handed it to Ryan. I'd been right about Christian, and yet incredibly wrong...I wiped my eyes in one brief, sharp motion.
"Who's Dayna?"
"You haven't--?" He paused. "No, I guess not. She's one of the resistance workers. She goes on most of the supply runs to Joburg, but she'll be back in the tunnels for a while." He reached down and tickled my antennae. "I'm not the only human in this whole thing, you know." His smile was too tight, the motion and words almost stiff and rehearsed--as though the same video feed played behind his own eyes, but he wouldn't betray it to his Poleepkwan "little sister."
I followed his gesture into the depths of the tunnels, past the empty makeshift beds and through a small labyrinth where a single lamp hung from above, softly illuminating two slight, almost waif-like forms.
I stumbled back, my mind unable to grasp what the dim light revealed. How do you describe a gun, somehow disassembled and softened, sitting and cradling a Poleepkwa child? I'd only seen a handful of human women, and never a human that didn't resemble the guns they carried--all hard lines and sharp angles. Sure, Dayna was undoubtedly human—yet her form and motions had a quality that was far too nonthreatening, too soft.
Like Ryan, her white face was youthful beneath the ubiquitous streaks of dirt. Yet it seemed perfectly round, as though a small freckled moon were framed by the chestnut brown hair that hung loose past her shoulders. Her eyes, too, were wide, quiet pools of blue--so large for her face that she seemed to almost match Talia's own countenance as they sat together, still and silent. The little Poleepkwa seemed to be reading a book in the human's lap...and Dayna sat still and relaxed, as though she could have waited there with her forever. Soft as a pillow, patient as an Elder. I watched her, transfixed by the unknown, for long moments until she looked up and smiled at me.
"How are you, Sherry? It's good to finally meet you." She extended a hand politely, and I stepped forward to take it in my own. Even in the lamplight I saw the patches of pink and white scars dotting her arms. Unbidden, I felt a kind of kinship swell in my chest. Surely, she was like Ryan--and almost like me! Not one of them.
"Thank you. Christian..." the words seemed to stumble out. "I mean, it's good to meet you too. Thank you for being with Talia like this--she must miss Jared a lot since the other kids stayed above ground, like Christian."
She tilted her head slightly and smiled. "It sounds like you miss Christian." Her tone softened the bluntness of her words. "I read about your argument--didn't quite expect that."
In spite of everything, I felt my mouth-tentacles curl, returning her smile. "I've...grown to respect him. And he's very brave." I paused, my voice growing firm again. "But I still think he's trying to be human."
She nodded. "I respect him too. But I see your point."
I blinked. "You do?"
She absently stroked the top of Talia's head. "The place where he grew up--well, where you both did--its whole purpose was to treat your race lower than dirt. But he still wants to build some way to be equal to the humans. And he's ambitious--he worked as an 'assistant engineer' for MNU..."
I sighed. "And when he couldn't advance himself further, he risked his life escaping. I know. Ambitious, yet scared of the hive mind."
"He's not the only Poleepkwa who doesn't like the idea, I've heard. You haven't met Phelan, but he doesn't like it either."
"How come? Because he doesn't want outside thoughts in his head, like Christian said?"
"I'm not sure." She furrowed her brow slightly. "I think it's the single consciousness with the same thoughts idea that throws them off. Here they're all individuals with their own thoughts. I don't know the complexities of it."
I sat down before her and Talia, dimly aware that I was sitting cross-legged and holding my hands out like Akra preparing to tell one of his wonderful stories. "I don't know much about it at all, just what Daddy told me. But I know that he made it sound amazing...like you're part of something so vast we can't even imagine it now. A warm, guiding embrace like a parent's. You never have to be alone."
She smiled, but shook her head. "I don't think I could ever live with a hive mind. Probably because I'm really opinionated."
"I don't think it's about opinions, though...Akra would say it's more about getting a task completed together." I interlocked my six bandaged fingers as though making an unbreakable bond. "He says that's why we're able to have such advanced technology, to travel between the stars. Because of cooperation, because with the hive mind we could function like the fingers on a hand."
In Dayna's slender, scarred arms, the child seemed more comfortable than I'd ever seen her. I met Talia's eyes and reached out, very slowly, to rest my hand on dark green-plated arm; just beneath where her exoskeleton was misshapen and dented. Some blunt force had broken it, and it hadn't been set or healed properly. "Besides, others seem to worry about the hive mind intruding. What it might add to them. But I wonder. What if it can also take away?"
The little one blinked, a flicker of interest in her eyes. She still didn't speak; I hadn't ever heard her form a single word. Though sometimes she cried out in the night.
I smiled, giving voice to my own fanciful imaginings. I knew that for an Elder, describing such a thing was like describing sight to a human born blind. And now I was a blind child, speculating about vision to another blind child. Yet it kept our hope alive.
"What if it's so huge and powerful, it's like you become a drop in the ocean? No matter how dirty or contaminated that drop is, everything in it just sort of spreads out and diffuses into the rest. Diffuses so much that it disappears! Can you imagine being a part of something that can take away all of your nightmares, make you forget all the pain? No matter what's happened, you don't have to bear the load by yourself anymore. The beatings, the isolation rooms...imagine if they were just a distant memory."
Talia flinched slightly, but her eyes shone. The sight cheered me, her face momentarily pushing aside the memory of Micheal's. "And even if that's not how it works, things like that won't happen when we're home again. It's nothing like this place." I thought of Akra's stories, his tales of home that the children always loved. For a moment I wanted to lead the two of them to him and ask to hear, yet again, his vivid descriptions of the world I'd never seen. But the Elder needed his rest. Whatever words he'd given me, I could pass on for him. And here, deep in the dirt and deprived of sunlight for over a week, I could only think of home's vivid natural beauty.
"Home is a planet much larger than this one, with seven moons instead of one. You'd love the cities there! They're laid out on a circular pattern. The buildings are like beehives, except hundreds of stories tall, reaching up to a bright, clear sky. The oceans there are red, gold and purple. I mean, the water itself is clear, but it's filled with algal blooms that change color like the leaves on a tree."
I gestured upward. "The sun here is yellow; it's not as bright as ours. That's why most of the plants are green. Our world has a shining type-F sun, so a lot of the plants are shades of blue." I imagined what I'd been told but never seen, holding the picture of perfect beauty clear in my mind.
"When Father returns with the mothership, we can use the medical machines to get fixed..." I made a vague gesture to my atrophied, healing legs and the shattered shell-plates of her right arm. "Then when we get home, I'll ask Father to take us hunting in the Dlur'kah jungles. All of us--you, me, your brother Jared and his friends. Nobody needs to hunt, of course. There's plenty of vitro-meat labs, so much that no one ever has to go hungry. But it's a tradition for all of us to do, when we're young."
I squared my shoulders, trying to look as proud and confident as Jared. She hadn't asked any questions, of course, but surely she missed him. "We'll bring down and feast on the Urkbos, a bug-eyed lizard twice the size of a lion. Father said they're delicious, as smooth as fish and as filling as pork. We won't need any kind of weapons to hunt, either. By then we'll be older, healed, and almost as strong as Eric." I realized that I was holding my arms out, both Dayna and Talia's hands clasped in my own. "Then, at night, we'll sleep under the stars--stars of the Andromeda Galaxy, nothing like you've ever seen. And yes, as we hunt and sleep and run around under the canopy of thick blue leaves, we'll have a voice guiding us. A voice that helps us work together. It'll be like always having Akra's soothing words, like you and Jared having a Daddy again." I squeezed Talia's tiny, three-fingered hand.
"This world...it's a dangerous, lonely place. Some humans are like Dayna and Ryan; yet there are so many of them that do awful things. But we're both strong--we all are. We can survive for three more years, and then we'll be beyond their reach. Forever."
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