MNU Spreads Lies--Alive in District 10

Outside

               

                “Why won’t they go home?” Pure whiteness surrounded us; Oliver stood on nothing.

                “They don’t want to; Akra said we can’t make them.” I reached out to hold him, as though we were children together again and hiding from the gangs patrolling District 9. “It’s not so bad, really—most of us will go! And I will! Two years, nine months, and we’ll see each other again! I love you, Oliver!”

                “Daddy, why won’t they go home?” My arms dissolved as they touched him; insubstantial mist against solid form. He blinked, his vision passing over and through me. “Sherry?”

                Father’s tall shadow fell over us. “Sherry died years ago. You’re imagining things.” He sighed. “We’ll take who we can, and go.”

                “Daddy!” I screamed so loud my lungs hurt. “I’m here! We’re waiting for you! The others, they’ve been tricked, but I’ll make them see! We’ll go with you! Daddy!”

                Oliver released Father’s hand and stepped towards me. “No, I hear something…” His clicks were quiet, tentative. “Big Sis…aah!” Kurt’s grinning face appeared behind him. Before I could speak Oliver’s blood sprayed onto the featureless white beneath him as four huge drill bits suddenly ripped through his tiny knee and elbow joints, tearing him apart. He fell to the ground in five pieces, like a breathing, bleeding doll dismembered by a careless child. His eyes never left mine as his body fell, slow as a dream or the last moments of life. His eyes showed no anger, or even pain—they were impossibly wide, seeming to silently scream “Why?” Why did the human kill him, why would the others stay behind and die here? Why…

                Father’s own eyes gazed off into the distance, as though Oliver had become as ghostlike as I. Yet my hands were solid as I held three fingers in a single hard point and drove it into Kurt’s throat. I ripped into him like a wild beast, chunks of flesh and remnants of his face coming apart in my bloody hands.

                “No.” I heard Father’s deep Poleekwan rumble. “Sherry was just an innocent child…and she didn’t survive.”

                 I stopped. Kurt’s body had become part of the white nothing around us, but I was still coated with his sticky human blood. “I’m alive, really…please, just look at me!” I reached for his hand and this time, finally, gripped it solid and tight.

                Father whirled about and yanked his hand from mine, as though I’d burned him. For an instant I saw myself through his eyes—small, yet marked with dozens of repulsive scars, and covered in blood like some horror-movie monster. He staggered back from even the sight of me.

                “Father, listen, please! That human killed Oliver, he tortured and murdered eight of our people! Even children. I had to do it!”

                He held up his hands as though warding me off. “You can’t be Sherry.” He said the words slowly, as though reassuring himself. “They took her away, and one of the other prisoners killed her. There was nothing I could do…”

                “No! Daddy, they lied to you! Those bastards kept me in a lab, like the one you broke into with Wikus. Awful things happened there; things that I could never tell anyone, but I promise I never cried out! I survived! I was strong, like you are!”

                “Sherry…” Father looked down at me, his yellow-gold eyes seeming to brim with bottomless grief. “You are Sherry. But look at you…you’re not my child.”

                “What? No…”

                He turned away, his back to me. “This Earth, this world has ruined you. Just like the others. My Sherry is gone.”

                “Daddy!”  I screamed the word over and over again as he disappeared, and the world around me became a featureless nothing. I was shouting, drenched in gore, contaminated and alone. Forever.

                 “Aw, shit!” A human cry awoke me.                

                 The white dreamscape vanished as I bolted from my cot, down the tunnels and towards that familiar voice.  “Ryan!” I knelt beside him, my hands trembling. “Are you okay?”

                He lay on his back in the dirt, right leg half-buried by rocks. “You get this scared over a sprain?” Ryan adjusted his hat and grinned.  “And a…digging malfunction. I’ve been in worse situations, don't worry.” He pointed to an alcove filled up by the cave-in. “I just want to get into that storage room.”

                I brushed the dry soil and sharp rocks aside to reveal his bruised knee.  “Worse, yeah, but...this looks painful.” I shook my head, clearing away the last wisps of sleep. How could I waste time with pointless nightmares, when my friend was hurt?

                He tried to shift his leg and winced. “Well, it's not exactly ideal. But, guess where most of the medical supplies are?” He cocked his head towards the filled-in alcove, where a small avalanche of soil was still tumbling down. “That's what I call poetic irony.”

                I rolled my eyes. “Oh, great. Here, I can get to them…” I picked up the shovel he’d dropped.

                “Hey! Don't leave me…I can't walk.”

                “Sorry!” I gripped his shoulders and pulled; trying to drag him to the nearest cot. He didn’t budge, of course, and my mouth-tentacles twitched in embarrassment. “Umm...I think I should get Eric.”

                “Just get him to bring me over there. I still have my hands, so I can work on digging.” He said the words to my back as I ran to wake Eric. It wasn’t until we knelt beside Ryan that I realized I’d actually ran—my long-atrophied muscles had only whispered in protest.  I grinned, trying only to focus on Ryan though I had a childlike urge to run and leap around him; to test the limits of my healing body. “You're worse than I am!”

                The strong Poleepkwa slung an arm around him and lifted him to his feet. “I know,” Ryan sighed. “I'm gonna go dig in the spot where I got hurt. Not humanity's stubbornness at its best.”

                Eric winked at his friend—another human mannerism that I’d never seen from one of us. "Maybe another one will hit you on the head, and you'll get some proper rest."

                “I don't think you can blame that stubbornness on being human, Ryan.” I threw a blanket over him as Eric laid him down on the cot next to mine.

                “What is this nonsense?” He adjusted the brim of his hat and furrowed his brow, narrowing his eyes theatrically. “Don't make me order you to let me dig. I have friends in...higher than us, places!”

                Eric handed me a medical kit and silently examined Ryan’s injured knee. “Order me? Hmm…” I mimicked his expression. “I don't recall signing up for the ARFA chain of command. Just for a human and a Poleepkwa, in a tunnel, who seemed to love me for some strange reason.” I swabbed the dirt from a few of the scrapes on his soft skin.

                He sighed. “You're not going to let me dig, are you?”

                Eric rested a large hand on Ryan’s prone shoulder. “Well, it's not broken, just sprained I think.” He turned to me.  “It'll swell up this big, but get better. Fragile humans.” He poked him playfully with a lower sub-arm.

                “Yes yes, I know. I’m a pathetic meatbag, woe is me.” He tried to climb to his feet. “Life doesn’t stop for a sprain, why should I?”

                I shook my head and gently pushed him back down.  “Rest for a little while. Then you can go back to proving how tough you are. Besides, we’re almost done. We should break the surface soon.”

                “If you weren't so damned wonderful, I'd start making vain threats. But I don't think I could bear the look on your face if I did.”

                I grinned and gave him a brief hug, resting my tiny head on his soft, warm human chest. His voice seemed to drown out the lingering shreds of my nightmare. “It’s okay. I’ll keep you company.”

                He patted my head gently. “Oh, Dayna came back from Joburg late last night. The transmitters, the computers you wanted—they’re all set up in Akra’s quarters.”

                I threw my small arms around him. “Hey, she’s the one who got everything, go hug her! She’s with Akra now—“

                “Okay, I’ll hug her later. But I have to keep you company, right?” I went back to cleaning the dirt from the last of his cuts and glanced at the kit’s instruction booklet—it recommended “rest, ice, compression, and elevation.” With an odd-looking blue “instant ice pack” and an armload of dirty blankets, I followed the directions as best I could.

                When his knee was elevated and wrapped, Ryan sighed. “As long as I’m stuck here, I should help you get ready for the interview.”

                “Umm…okay. What do I need to do?”

                He gave me a wry smile. “I looked over your blog—you really didn’t know about ARFA, or the new CEO. I mean, I can understand why, but the journalist might ask you about these things. Why don’t you get your computer, and let this,” he poked my side playfully. “Weak human fill you in?”

                “You’re a wounded knight, remember?” I called the words over my shoulder as I ran to where the small computer was stashed beneath my cot. I raced back—and stopped, wincing, as my muscles spasmed and clenched in protest. Okay, so my legs weren’t quite healed yet. I’d keep working, keep exercising to strengthen them.

                Ryan scooted over to let me sit beside him, and powered up my computer with the hand crank. “Here,” He typed in a web address and clicked on a video link that bore the headline, MNU Makes History with First Female CEO. “This is Grace Allen, the new face of MNU.”

                The image on the screen seemed to be smiling down at the reporter, speaking to the camera almost condescendingly. “Multi-National United is a progressive, forward-thinking company. We believe in corporate responsibility and accountability. I would like to take this opportunity to reassure our stakeholders, the media, and the community at large that the few irresponsible individuals involved with unlicensed genetic research have been dealt with appropriately. Also, our former CEO has stepped down, and I have been appointed to lead this company in a bold new direction.”

                “Unlicensed?” I muffled a bitter laugh. “You mean illegal! You can’t get a license for…as Christian would say, that shit.”

                She continued. “We will execute our business plans to create sustainable growth and generate substantial return for shareholders. However, this has not prevented us from treating the Non-Humans under our care in District 10 Sanctuary Park with the utmost dignity and respect. They are given adequate work, schooling, and housing. The problems which plagued District 9—such as involvement with outside gangs and massive unemployment—have been eliminated.”

                I narrowed my eyes at the oblivious woman on the screen. No point in saying that the last claim was brutally true; and as for the others…I’d like to see her trade places with any of us. Just for a day. I didn’t hear the reporter’s muffled question, but her aristocratic, slightly-accented Afrikaner voice seemed to silence the crowd before her. She frowned, but her tone did not waver.

                “That documentary only told one side of the story, and our world has changed since then.  In any case, whatever claims Tanukashi’s representatives have made simply aren’t supported by the facts.  We have complied fully with UIO protocol, but cannot allow inspections at this point in time. It would be too great of a security risk.”

                I paused the video feed. “Okay, I remember the UIO from the documentary.  United International Organization, right? Tanukashi sounds a little familiar…”

                He nodded. “They’ve tried to outbid MNU a couple of times. Your father mentioned them on his blog, actually.” Ryan’s shoulders slumped. He spoke evenly, as though in a mentally prepared speech. “So that’s where we’re at. Some of us ‘Alien Rights and Freedom’ members thought that once the documentary came out, MNU would be toast. That people would see what they were really up to, and they’d be hauled in front of the UIO immediately. We hoped Tanukashi would be able to take over. But Dirk Michels took most of the blame, they paid off the Van de Merwe family, brought in a new face, and bam.” He grimaced as he snapped his fingers. “Their stock went right back up. I mean, practically no one back home likes MNU, but they don’t seem to hate them enough to boycott their products or to really join in on the protests. I’ve heard it’s kind of like what happened with Exxon a couple decades ago. That spill cost them billions, but they just keep reporting record profits. And the same damned ship still makes runs across the Atlantic. They just renamed it.” He finished in practically a single breath. I wondered if these were his words, or the monologue of another resistance worker. He seemed to believe what he said but not completely understand it.

            “What’s Exxon? Protests?”

            He shook his head. “It’s an oil company, but never mind. And yes ma’am, protests.” He tipped his hat slightly and grinned at my blank expression. “That’s the bulk of what ARFA does, actually. You know, rallying outside of MNU headquarters, holding signs—‘Hey hey! Yo ho! MNU has got to go! What do we want? Non-Human rights! When do we want it? Now!’”

            My antennae twitched in confusion. “You mean, humans say that?”

            “Here, see it for yourself." He opened up another window on the screen. "This is an old protest, from about a year ago—but they’re happening everywhere. There was a huge one in LA last week. Me, Dayna, the other human resistance workers…that’s how we first got started.”

            He tipped my chin up gently, so that our eyes met. “I told you, I’m not special like you think I am. Not one in six billion. You can’t really see it from in here, but out there, your people have a lot of support.” He made a vague gesture down the tunnels, towards the outside world—to me, it was the great unknown beyond District 10. “And we’re always trying to get more. That’s why this interview will be so important…”

            I nodded. I didn’t expect anything too impressive, but if the video of Kurt torturing the refugees actually did wind up on the news, it would be something. Something else to further our cause. The exposure of MNU’s illegal research program had hardly brought down the company, but if it hadn’t been exposed I would still be in that tiny box. I shuddered, pushing the thought away.

            “Actually,” I paused. “Can I ask you a question?”

            “Of course.” He settled back into the cot and propped his head up with a folded blanket.

            “In three years...” I reached out, almost unconsciously, to brush a bit of dirt from his face. “I always assumed you'd go back to the States. You know, get married and have a family. I never thought there would still be Poleepkwa here then. But if there are, what will you do? If District 10 is full of obedient Poleepkwa, and I'm gone along with most of us...what do you think you'll do?”

            “I will be here until District 10 no longer exists.”

            “Really? You're very brave, big brother.” I looked into his bright green eyes, almost silently begging for his understanding.  “I wasn’t…I was stupid. I thought that I, and my people, could leave Earth and never look back. But if there are half a million of us still stuck here, in spite of Father, then that just won't be an option. Not for me, at least. I don’t really know what my people will do. I suppose decades from now, if he survives, Christian will have to be a kind of slave diplomat. Working for the equality of those who don’t even know what equality is. And you'll be working to free them, for as long as it takes?”

            “Yes, as long as it takes. I see those who are lost, and need to be found.”

            I took his hand in my own. “I want them all to be ‘found’ in the next three years. But if that doesn't happen—“ I stopped when he began to chuckle softly. “Wait…why are you laughing?”

            He smoothed back my antennae playfully, as though ruffling a human child’s hair. “It's funny, because you seem to think of only the worst things.”

            “Do I? I'm sorry. I don't mean to.”

            “Everything was going to be perfect when your father came back. Now, it's like your world is ending. Can you just take things as they are, as they come to you?”

            I grabbed the wide-brimmed hat that he still wore—even underground, even laying down with a sprained knee. His “Indiana Jones hat,” he’d called it, apparently after some movie I’d never heard of.

            “Hey! Don’t mess with the hat!” I jumped up, holding it out of his reach.

            “Oh?” I clicked mischievously.  “You had this, now you don’t… but can’t you just take things as they come to you?” I lowered it almost to his grasp, and then yanked it back again.

            “That’s not fair, but I get the point.” He rolled his eyes dramatically. I plopped back down next to him and let his dirt-covered human hands reclaim their prize. “It’s not nice to take advantage of the injured, you know.” He shook his head. "Anyway, there's another letter from Christian--Eric left it over there. Along with the last one you wrote to him...I guess he didn't want to carry it around, in case he was searched."

               I skimmed over the message I'd written to him a few days ago. My own words seemed inadequate, compared to the thought of what he faced in that factory above ground.

Dear Christian,

    I’d forgotten about the first time we communicated. I didn’t know it, but you were at the Texas base at the time. I was crouched beneath a pile of garbage in the late hours of the night here when I read your message: “I am very glad that you are alright. It pains me to see what MNU has done, and continues to do to our species. There may not be enough time between when Christopher, your father, returns, but we in the resistance will attempt to correct humanity’s mistakes. I have seen many good people, human and Poleepkwa alike, fight, and die, for our cause. You are not alone out there. We are with you, and will support you through everything we can. If you are ever in need of help, let us know.”

    I had no idea where you were, who you were, or even if you were real then. It’s beyond ironic that our roles have been reversed, with you in danger up there and me secure underground. And now it truly is the other way around—it pains me to see, behind your fancy words, that you’ve been hurt and face more abuse in the days ahead. I have no doubt that your courage will see you safely back to us, just as the knowledge of Father’s own strength enabled me to survive a year of MNU torture and somehow become a symbol of hope for my people.

    As for our own struggle here, there is not much to tell. We’re slowly digging a new entrance. Kurt attempted to scare us with a lie about capturing you, but I have no doubt that his intelligence is no match for yours.

    It’s useless to say it, yet I wish we could switch the mirror around and change places once more…the blows you’ve been dealt, I would take for you. Your work is beyond valuable to the resistance, and the fact that you’ve been able to continue it in spite of these trials amazes me again. I look forward to hearing about your further progress with the schools; since you have already far exceeded any “precedent” I may have held for you before.

Until Next Time,

Sherry Johnson

Dear Sherry,

    Though we may be on opposite sides of the mirror, we share a common reflection. In my slight time working at the factory these past few days I have experienced only a hint of what you have been through. It's all a matter of perspective, and every different angle I experience, every new dimension, alters my perspective that much more. In the near future, I'm not sure that I will even recognize my reflection.

    Working at the factory has not been a pleasant experience by any means, but if you keep your head down and finish the work on time the guards will leave you alone. They do not wish to be in the factory any more than we do. The conditions are as hazardous as reported, and we, the workers, must be exceedingly careful at every step of the fabrication process. One false move and you could well end up lubricating one of the machines, or supplying more tender for the furnace.

    Over the course of these past few days, I have built up a reputation as an able bodied worker, and have been promoted to a form of supervisor. It does not allow me to work less, but only means that now I must supply assistance to those around me as well as complete my own work. In exchange, I am given a ration of cat food in addition to my meager pay. This had the unintended side effect of making me quite popular with the other workers in my section.

    As I do not wish to tarnish my mind with such substances, I have been splitting it up with a select few among my work force. I guess they could fall under the label of friends, but as of right now, the only thing tying us together is our species, job, and their need of cat food. There is only one that I feel has any semblance of a friendship with me.

    His name is Sue, and though he is younger than most of the other workers, he is of like mind to myself. When offered cat food he steadfastly refuses, and is one of the brighter workers among the group. I have met up with him and a few of the other workers in our off hours, and thoroughly enjoy his company. I do not know how much I should reveal to him of my own actions, but he may be sympathetic to our cause. If he proves trustworthy, I will not hesitate to enlist his assistance.

    The school continues to grow, though the lessons have been shorter as of late. I am finding it difficult to balance my work schedule alongside my nocturnal activities. I may have to adjust the time of class or split the class into multiple sessions to best accommodate the students. Perhaps Sue may be able to act as a teacher's aid in the near future. Though that is more wishful thinking at the moment than a possibility.

I hope you are well, and wish that you may breach the surface soon enough.

Until next time,

Christian Heffner

            My jaws were clenched tight as I searched for a pen and made a quick reply in our native script. Enough talking; enough with this being underground and safe while he stoically suffered along with the rest of my people. Kurt's words flashed through my mind, Can't get cat food in space, now can you sweetie?  I pushed all thoughts of Kurt and nightmares from my mind. Father would be proud of me, someday, because I would save my people from this horrible existence. All of them...somehow.

Dear Christian,

    You have seen our world from a new angle, but it is one which you should never have been made to view. Before, I wanted to make you understand my perspective--but never at this cost. For what it's worth, I promise that you'll recognize yourself in the future...just as a wounded, wiser Poleepkwa.

    In any case, it seems that both our mirrors are shifting. I honestly don't know what to think about the humans right now...besides the kindness of Ryan and Dayna, I've been given a brief glimpse of the world you're more familiar with. I still have no wish to be owned by their kind, or become one of them! But I have learned that humans are complicated beings, and capable of great empathy.   

    Not all humans, of course. I was surprised to read about the cat food, though I shouldn't have been.Those MNU pigs seem so determined to intoxicate and poison us...I'm glad, at least, that you haven't tried that foul stuff. 

    You wrote once about "no longer sitting back and reading about my trials and tribulations." Now that the mirror has reversed, so to speak, rest assured that I won't be hearing about yours this way for much longer. Only a few more layers of earth remain, and though it will probably seem like a lifetime to you, we will break through to the surface in three days at the most. If have to dig through the rest of the way myself with my bare hands, I will. I promise.

See You Soon,

Sherry Johnson

 

Future

“Elder! Akra!” I burst into the room, hardly aware that I’d woken him.

            “Sherry! Are you all—“

            “I’m fine! But you have to read this…I can’t believe it. It’s been in front of my eyes this whole time, and I never saw what they were doing.” I thrust my small computer into his hands, still bearing Kurt’s e-mail on the screen. Akra had advised us not to "engage" him, since he was obviously just seeking information--and I wouldn't respond to this message. I didn't have to.

Dear Sherry,

You told Talia quite a nice little story there. Sounds like you were really trying to sell her on your “perfect homeworld.” Don’t get me wrong—I personally don’t care if your “Daddy” comes back and all you lobsters decide to climb back into the pot. It’s just that MNU’s education programs work so well, and some of the Prawns probably won’t want to go. Your people wouldn’t force anyone to leave against their will, now would they? At least, you don’t think Christopher would. Not that he’s the big shot you seem to think he is, honey. At best, he’ll be the messenger, who either points a bunch of ships back here…or goes home to find leaders who don’t consider a few million workers to be worth their trouble.

So let’s sit down and think about the future, here—the real future, not whatever candy-and-unicorns fantasy you have going in your little head. Optimism makes for great stories, but this is real life, so let‘s just skip all of that. Here’s what will happen:

One: your fleet shows up—maybe in three years, maybe more—and your big bugger-queen or whatever is holding an olive branch in its tentacles. Everything’s peaceful, no “interspecies war;” MNU and the world just bows before your advanced weapons and hands over all 2.5 million of you. But there’s no way they’ll all want to leave! We’re talking about creatures born on Earth, domesticated, MNU-educated. Don’t forget addicted—can’t get cat food in space, now can you, kiddo?

Even if, say, one-fourth of them stay here, prepare to leave 625,000 of these guys behind. Believe me, kid, I’ve been in these factories and schools; I know it’ll be one heck of a lot more than that. Remember those two teachers who did such a wonderful job punishing you? There are plenty more well-trained drones where they came from, and there are more being educated every day.

Whoever’s in charge will have to either let them stay, or bring out the grunts and kidnap thousands of your own kind. Not a happy thought, huh cutie? There’s nothing you can do about it. Your radio speeches and little schools won’t reach them all, and even if they did, they probably wouldn’t take the time to listen or care about what a little one like you says. It's sad, but it's true.

Two: They come here for war. Maybe your big fleet of ships comes to Earth with the “overmind” in a bad mood, or maybe some crazy nation like North Korea decides to launch a nuke at the Mothership. Either way, it’s aliens vs. humans. (Personally, if that happens, I’m taking my wife and kids and going AWOL, ASAP.) But MNU isn’t stupid, little one, and it isn’t weak. A whole lot of things could happen, but you can’t have a war without casualties, now can you? Of course, no matter what we do, the aliens will probably win one way or another. But be ready to say goodbye to more than 625,000 of your people. Sorry to burst your optimistic bubble, sweetie, but I’m stating the facts.

Three (and this one is the most likely, not to mention what practically every human or non-human believes); the Mothership is gone, and never coming back. You’ll wait ten, twenty, even fifty years for a “paradise” that’ll never come and a Prawn who’s probably only your father in your own delusional little mind.

In reality, if you and your little group of terrorists--because you are considered terrorists, no matter what you may think--keep on doing what you’re doing, there’s no way you’ll last that long. I’ve been specially assigned to find you, but somebody will sooner or later. Thanks to Ryan’s antics, we already know his face. Not sure if I’ll be in charge of the interrogation myself, of course, but I suspect that whoever finds you will probably want that squid-lover to watch you, his “little princess,” die first. Very slowly. As for the others…well, I’ll let you use your imagination there.

But wait! Keep reading, because there is hope. If what you’ve said in your blog is true, then that “ARFA” group of yours has bases halfway across the world. Well, the brass is letting me make you a one-time offer if you all act now—get out. Leave your tunnels before we find them. Wait for “Professor Christian” if you have to, but be out by the end of next week. We won’t stop you. My job is to get rid of the terrorists, not necessarily kill them. I’m a reasonable guy, and I don‘t like killing unless I have to.

You’re fooling yourself if you think you can really change things with the tent-schools, the transmissions, and smuggling out a small trickle of refugees every month or so. What you’re up against is too big, and it can‘t be stopped. You can still help your people, kiddo; just go to the bases and do it there. Help the ones on the outside—they have the best chance of surviving anyway. You and your friends will live a lot longer. Wheezing old Akra will die peacefully there, instead of in the filthy underground or at the end of some MNU grunt’s gun—maybe mine. Come to think of it, it would probably be a drill. But besides, if everything you’ve said really is true, leaving now is your best chance of ever seeing your “Daddy” again.

If you decide to stay, then things are just going to get worse from here, sweetie. I have a job to do. I’m not going away—and even if you do get your revenge, MNU will just promote someone else and give them my assignment. Maybe he or she won’t be as nice as I am; they might not give you a second chance. We may not get all the groups you try to sneak out, but we’re going to find some of them, and I’m afraid it won’t be a pretty sight.

I know you want to tear me apart for that, kiddo, but I’m just a guy trying to provide for his family. You, on the other hand—no one ordered you to lead them into danger. If you hadn’t convinced them to try to escape, they’d still be alive. If you hadn’t told them about a magical world, they’d have grown up knowing only Earth and never wasting their lives dreaming about what may be out there. All your group is doing is getting more of you killed, don‘t you see that? Look at little Talia right now…the longer you stay here in Awshitz, the more likely it is you’ll hear her—and Jared, and the others, all your friends—screaming like Michael did. Your choice, little one.

Talk to the other terrorists, and make your decision. Oh, and if you think you’ll stay here…sleep well tonight.

Sincerely,
Kurt Jackson, MNU Employee

 

            “I don’t care about the second and third ones, because Father is coming back, and it will be peaceful. And he’s crazy if he thinks that any of us will leave. But,” I crossed my arms over my chest, jaws clenched tight. I knew that Kurt’s words had me shaking with rage—too many of them had cut too close. Akra, the refugees that I'd led there... “I’d rip my own heart out and give it to those damned Nigerians to eat before I’d let thousands of our own people stay behind!”

            He set the computer down and gazed at me with exhausted red-gold eyes. “Yes, my child. But you know we cannot force them to go...the MNU agent speaks a word of truth, albeit a venom-coated version of it. Would not saving as many people as we could be better than none at all?” He coughed and turned his head aside, but kept his posture straight—as though trying to seem the dignified Elder while hacking blood onto the dirt floor.

            I took a few deep breaths myself before answering him. “Yes, of course it would be! But could they really convince so many of us to stay?”

            His antennae twitched in affirmation. “I think perhaps there is a bit of exaggeration to that, but we must be prepared for the inevitability that there will be some who will stay here.”

            “They can’t do that! They’ll have children, what about them? And their children after that…an entire race of Prawns. Forever.”

            I let him take both of my hands in his. “And then there will be a new sect of our people who live here on Earth, and may even be happy with it. We cannot judge for them what should make them happy. And it won't be forever... I am certain that in time the humans will adjust to the uncomfortable feeling of a new species arriving on their planet.”

            I yanked my small hands away from him. “Happy? No one is happy like this! They’re just made to believe they are. And uncomfortable…you sound like Christian.” They don’t want thousands of us to stay to integrate with them; they want to keep us as slaves! And most of them never even see us.”

            “I know that... I did not say it would be an easy transition. We have only been here twenty-five years or so, and it took them much longer to accept others of their own…I am just saying that I believe in time, equilibrium will be reached. We will not be here to experience this, thankfully.”

            I fumed silently; my mind churning with the thought of watching six hundred thousand pairs of Poleepkwan eyes—obedient, empty, surrounded by razor-wire—recede in the distance along with this world. I grasped at the idea that at least Akra would be beside me; at least they would only keep a fraction of us…but no, no. Not while I could help it. Father, I thought silently. I will bring you nearly all of our people. I promise I will…we’ll have to leave Christian, sure, and maybe a few others. But I promise…I just had to try harder. 

                You won't be disappointed. I promise you, Father...

                We had three years—for the first time, it felt like as much of an ultimatum as a pact. I stepped back into the Elder’s arms, resting my head on his shoulder.

            “I read Christian's letter today. They're making him work in one of the factories, but he's okay otherwise. And he's continuing with the schools.Your transmissions...whatever Kurt said, I know they reached our people.  And we have to get new equipment from ARFA, immediately.”

            “Yes. We need some powerful transmitters, at least. Anything else I can do within the network.”

            I smiled up at him wryly. “Well, I guess this will be the test of how much clout I have with the Holders.” I caught myself. If Ryan heard me using one of the Poleepkwan slang terms for humans, he’d be upset—he never called me a Prawn. But we didn’t look anything like Prawns…while humans could actually hold, own things like we couldn’t. Our head-tags even read, “Property of MNU.” And in District 9, when one of us disappeared, he was being "held for questioning;" usually forever. In any case, Father's friends had called them Holders, though he never did--so I tried not to. At least it wasn't as bad as the other term, Pigs.

            I shuffled my feet. “Um....the humans, I mean.”

            He chuckled, rubbing the top of my head affectionately. “Sherry Johnson, I think even the humans would be moved by your face when you tell them that you need them.”

            I gave him a brief hug and started off down the tunnel. I knew where to find Dayna, digging the new entrance. But I couldn’t just walk up and demand that she buy expensive equipment on her next supply trip to Johannesburg! Fortunately, she smiled and waved at me.

            “Hey, Sherry!”

            With her kneeling in the dirt and me standing beside her, our eyes nearly met. “Dayna, hi. How is Talia feeling? She seems really attached to you.”

“I think she's feeling better. I notice she smiles more.” She grinned, wiping the dirt from her face. I glanced at the white and pink scars that dotted her arms, but didn’t let myself stare at them. “Or that thing that resembles a smile.”

I demonstrated the Poleepkwan smile for her in return.  “Yes, most humans can't really tell unless they've been around us for a while. A couple of our mouth-tentacles curve up and out, but it's mostly in the widened eyes I think.”

“Yes. I'm happy that she’s doing well…oh, I wanted to talk to you about the journalist. He’s actually not coming here; he wants to do an audio interview over your computer.” She placed a delicate hand on my hard-shelled arm. “The most important thing will be to send him the video file. You know, the one Kurt sent you. And you can trust him, tell him anything. This comes from ARFA, right from the top.”

“He wants to see it? Show it to the other humans, like the documentary?” My head nearly spun. The “District 9” documentary hadn’t freed us, but it had rallied so many humans to our cause…if he really could show the human world, I had no idea how much they’d react. But it would be something.

My head-antennae twitched excitedly, but I saw the opening and forced my mind back on track. “My computer doesn’t have…I mean, it’ll need a microphone. You’re going on a supply trip to Joburg this week, right? Can you get one?”

She didn’t even blink. “Sure.”

I fidgeted with the ties on my makeshift red shirt. “And Akra…he had to leave everything behind in his hideout. To send out messages again, he needs a powerful transmitter, and he could use a computer…I know it’s expensive but—“

“Don’t worry about that! ARFA gets some nice…anonymous, corporate donations. I’m not very technical, but just draw me up a list and I’ll get what you need.”

I shook my head and grinned at her soft, round face. “You're like Ryan…and not just that you’re helping us. I mean, you'll actually sit and hold a Poleepkwa. Like she was human or something.”

“I came here with the mindset that I would treat the Poleepkwa I met like anyone else I know. Treat them equally, you know? I don't really think of people here as ‘Poleepkwa’ or ‘human.’ I would do the same with any other person I respect, or a lonely human child.” Her bright blue eyes were sincere, without a trace of disgust. Even after living with Ryan for almost two months, it still felt strange. I looked down at the dirt floor.

“Can I ask you…how did that start?  I mean, most humans are grossed out when they see us…”

She brushed back her long brown hair and tied it out of the way. “Honestly, it first started when I was talking to other ARFA members back in Canada, and it seemed that a vast majority of people put the Poleepkwa on such a pedestal and humans were totally inferior. And I figured, ‘That's not the point. They want to be equal to us, not worshiped.’ So really, I just kept that mindset. And I don't find Poleepkwa off putting at all. They look noble, actually. And the kids are so cute!”

I looked sideways at her. She kept saying they, although she was talking to one of them…and I couldn’t quite grasp her other words.  “Do the humans on the bases really think of us that way? Like, to be worshiped or something?”

“Some of them. I think the reason why some humans do it is because they perceive them as being flawless.”

“What? Us? Flawless?” I actually staggered back, as though she had called herself a worm and our people giants. Everything from the bases was upside-down! I’d thought that a Poleepkwa calling himself a man would be the strangest thing I’d ever hear.  But any human, basically thinking in terms of the opposite…

She shrugged. “Yes.”

“That's the last thing I'd expect to hear from anyone.”

She half-rolled her eyes, gesturing with her fingers as though quoting someone. "’They have a hive mind! They're more evolved! They're more advanced technologically!’ They’re all perceptions of course, since everyone has their flaws.”

“Oh!” I almost stuttered out the words. “Okay, that makes more sense. I can see why someone would be jealous of a hive mind, but still...I guess we never really understand how other people think. I can totally see why a Poleepkwa would want to be human, or think humans are better...they've heard it their whole life.  But I never thought that humans would think the reverse. They may not have a hive mind and all that...I mean, you don't have that...but they have this world. They're in charge, they have all the stuff and the power, they have us. Most of the ones I've seen seem pretty proud of that.”

She looked away, falling silent. I wanted to bang my head against the earthen wall—someone does everything to help, and I insult them? What could she say to something like that? I sighed, and hoisted a pick in my small hands. There was nothing to do but show her my look of contrition, eyes cast down and antennae drooping—then raise the tool and commence digging beside her, through the filthy, rocky world neither of us seemed to understand. Because against all odds…well, against everything I’d ever seen before, somehow we had to work together.

Messages

                 

                 It still felt odd to wake up in the tunnels surrounded by silence, instead of the bustle of other children. I didn’t like even the idea of being alone.  It felt so much better, so much warmer in the damp earth when Ryan’s gentle voice awoke me.

                “How’s my Poleepkwan Princess?” He smiled.

                “Princess?” I stretched out, my legs feeling stronger, nearly mended. A month and a half, or so, since I’d been released from the lab…it felt like a separate lifetime. “Nah. There's no such thing as Poleepkwan royalty…”

                He brought me a simple breakfast and a jug of water. “Trust me; if anyone deserves a crown, it’s your family.”

                I gulped it down readily, washing the taste of dust from my mouth. My hands were still bandaged, but our people heal quickly. “My family? Father, definitely.”

                He sat down on the cot beside me, throwing an arm around my narrow shoulders. “And you! Reluctant princess…but a princess nonetheless.”

                I grinned up at him, wiggling my mouth-tentacles playfully. “If I’m a princess, what does that make you?”

                “A knight!” he made an elaborate motion of holding up a sword. “You know I’ve promised to see you safely back to your Father. To the King.”

                Sometimes his words made me swell with both love and embarrassment—as though I was filthy, yet he showered me with perfume. I looked away, keeping my voice light. “I guess that would make Oliver a prince! A prince of technology; he’s always been so good with it…”

                Ryan squeezed my arm softly. “You should at least be a princess for a day. Dayna asked me when your birthday is, and I realized I don’t know. When—“

                "Wait. What's that?"

                "Once a year, the day of the year you were born, you have a party to celebrate. At least we do where I'm from! With gifts, and cake."

                I poked him playfully with my little chest-arms. “You’re just being silly! I came out of an egg! Poleepkwa don’t have birthdays.”

                He jutted out his lower lip dramatically. “You should. It’s another year of surviving…against such huge odds.”

                I shrugged. “I was hatched about eight years ago. I don’t know which day, and it doesn’t matter.”

                He paused. “We can make one up, then. Instead of the day you were born, your ‘freedom day.’ The day you got out. September 20^th. But since that’s a long ways away…let’s celebrate it a little late this year.”

                I cocked my head to the side. “Are you serious about this?” I looked up at the spark in his young eyes. “All right, you’re obviously determined. But if I get to have a birthday, Talia should have one too. When the other kids can come back to the tunnels, I mean. That way it can kind of be a ‘welcome back’ party, too...is that okay?”

   He hugged me. “Sure! It's your party, silly. What do you want for a present?”

   “Talia likes to draw, she should get colored pencils or something. For me…” I shuffled my feet. “A stuffed animal? Just something to hold at night. I’ve been using wadded up blankets.” My antennae twitched with agitation. “I mean, I know what I really want. But I’ll settle for that…”

   Ryan patted my back lightly. “If it's what I think it is, he's coming as fast as he can.”

   I startled. “No…that’s not what I was thinking of. But it should have been.” His reddish-blonde eyebrows furrowed. “I meant…Kurt. His head, as humans would say, on a platter.”

   He looked aside. “I thought so.”

   I nodded. “You want it too, don't you?”

   “Yes, and no. He deserves to die, but he's too smart. I know we’d lose some of our people…”

   “He can’t be smarter than all of us! Ryan…I never saw Father really angry, not once. But I think that if he were here now, he'd make Kurt pay for what he did. I mean, that could have been me! Or Oliver!

   Ryan’s tone was slow, measured. It had a restrained quality, as though his voice itself were on a tight leash. “He lost a friend to MNU. And he thought he lost you. But he didn’t abandon his job. His duty.”

   I was silent for a long moment. “You're right. But it can't be one or the other! There has to be some way to do both…” I paused, my slumped spine springing to life. “What if we could trap him? There has to be a huge price on my head. MNU must want me out of their hair. If we made him think that he could get his hands on me....”

  He gritted his teeth. “No, we're not using you as bait.

  “Why not? I'm the best choice. He sent me the video...maybe he was even ordered to catch me, specifically. Not just the whole resistance.”

 “That’s all the more reason to keep you away from him! He knows how to get to you, to us—this isn't just another grunt.”

 I gripped his shoulders, turning him to face me. “Please, Ryan. Even if it's what I want? Even for those lives? I'm not some kind of fragile treasure! The only reason I mean anything to the resistance is because I'm willing to take risks like this. I mean, even Christian is aboveground right now! Risking his life, just to teach!”

He gazed down at me, his expression pained. “So, you're only worthwhile when you're putting yourself in unnecessary danger?”

I smiled sarcastically. “No. Necessary danger.”

“Remember why I'm supposed to talk to you, Dayna and Akra? So I don't make any more stupid plans that cause more harm than good. And this is one of those ideas that needs to be talked about to other people first. If Akra thinks it's a good idea, and we should do it...then you have my complete support.”

I sighed deeply. “All right. That's fair enough. We have to listen to the Elder…I know I'd say the same thing to you.”

 

            When I told Akra he gripped my wrists, pulling me towards him protectively. “No. Never. I can scarcely live with myself for leading you into that torturous school. As long as I am alive, I will not allow that thing to come anywhere near you. Not my child…” He turned away, clearing his lungs and spitting dark blood into the dirt.

            “Elder, we have to do something. He can’t get away with what he did—“

            “That’s not the issue, Sherry. The risk simply isn’t worth it.” He sighed deeply. “If you won’t think of me, then think of the hive. What you have come to mean to our people. Your life is more valuable than the death of a hundred monsters like him.”

             For a moment I couldn’t speak, only throw my arms around his old, wide neck and hold him close.  “Of course I think of you! Every day I think about what you said when we first met, ‘Father returning to find us standing victorious over the defunct MNU, seeing the child he thought he’d lost…all of us, free. And looking up to me.’” I shook my head. “If they look up to me, and it helps that happen, fine. But you’re the wise one. You’re the one who remembers freedom. And you’ll be standing with me.” I looked up, meeting his ancient red-gold eyes with a slight smile.  “I won’t try to lure Kurt like that. I promise. If you don’t think it’s right—“ I made a dismissive gesture. “I won’t even think about it anymore.”

             I glanced at the dirt beneath my feet. “It just feels helpless down here, you know? We can’t get anybody out, I can’t even help Christian.”

             He smoothed back my antennae with a heavy hand. “Remember that it wasn’t just bravery that enabled your father to gather the fluid for twenty years. He was—he must have been—patient. And now is the time for just that. In fact…” He drew in a few ragged breaths, but seemed to suppress another round of coughing. “I would like to teach you how to use the beacon. In case I am…too ill to operate it.”

             I smiled up at him. Surely he was just hoping to distract me, but it was a wondrous device. “Yes, Elder. I would be honored.”

             We spent hours going through images of blue light, watching stars dance beneath my fingers. My mind felt drained, yet I was almost relaxed when I turned the hand-crank to power up my computer after our evening meal.

             I wasted time for a while, listening to music through the crackling speakers and reading my e-mails. Perhaps I shouldn’t have even clicked on the link, when Kurt’s message appeared.

             “You know,” I read the words in an instant message window.  “Your ‘professor' is too smart for his own good.”

             “Ryan!” I called out my friend's name, summoning him from further down the tunnels. I typed the words, “What are you talking about?”

 “We've got your friend Christian. We managed to find him as he tried to collect a message of some sort. A letter. It was at a drop point, most likely, because he seemed to know it would be there. Not very smart to do that.”

I clenched my jaws tight as I heard Ryan running down the tunnel towards me. “And how do you know it was him? We all look the same to you, right you fucker?”

“He actually tried to argue with us. Sounds like your 'diplomat', alright. Too bad it didn't do anything. Don’t worry, honey, we haven’t permanently scarred him. Though he may not want to teach anytime soon. Or talk of 'Christopher's return", either.”

“Damnit Kurt!” I typed the words in a fury. “Let me talk to him! You want to negotiate, right?

“Nope. He'll break and talk eventually; we don't need your information.In fact, he may be breaking now. Either way, we'll find out.”

“He'll never break! Not with all the cattle prods in the world...” I paused. “Wait. Why don't you have the video feed on?”

“Same reason as why I sent you an e-mail.” Kurt replied. “If you aren't paying attention to the message, it's useless.”

“But you wanted me to see the refugees die. Don't you want me to see my friend?”

“No. We're actually getting him to crack, and MNU can't risk you giving him a reason to stay quiet. You have that effect on people, kiddo. ”

“Stop it! You could beat him to death, but he'd never talk.”

“I thought that too, but Allen has one hell of a magic touch. He's knows how to really get to these Prawns. He’s always had a fixation with antennae…”

“You're not showing me the video. Even though if you could, he couldn't see me.” I broke out laughing as Ryan appeared over my shoulder. “You don’t have him! You're a fucking liar! I knew it!”

“You continue to amaze me, kiddo. You've actually caught on. Not bad. ”

I shook my head. “Of course. I should have known. MNU Spreads Lies, right? That's Father's catchphrase, you could say.” I grinned at the screen. “You'll never find Christian, you stupid, worthless, lying human! He's ten times the ‘man’ you'll ever be.”

 Ryan gently urged me out of the way as he took over the keyboard. “This is Ryan. You just enjoy infuriating my people, don't you?”

             “Actually, yes. And your little Prawn girl should be ashamed of herself, swearing like that.”

             His face was hard and determined as he typed. “You do know, one of these days I'm going to kill you.”

             “The feeling's mutual.”

            “Oh, this isn't a feeling or a threat. This is an ironclad promise. You made a choice…and you’re going to face the consequences.”

             Kurt’s reply was almost immediate. “It's not my choice.”

            “Bullshit. There is always a choice. You just chose to stay with MNU. It would have been easier for me to stay with my family. Not to have gotten involved. But, I made a choice, and I'm sticking to it. Now could you please stop trying to ruin our day?”

            “But I haven't done anything. I've typed a bit, but that's all.”

            Ryan stopped for a moment, and then his hands flew over the keyboard again. “If you're telling me that video feed you sent to Sherry was faked, then I won't hold murder against you.”

            “The one with the refugees?”

            “The one where you murdered a child. Three children.” Out of the corner of my eye I heard Eric approach behind us. He handed me a small piece of paper, but I didn’t look away from the screen. “Oh no, that was real.” Kurt replied.

“Then you took those I care about, those under my protection...I promised them safety, and you killed them. There is no mercy in my heart for you.” Ryan closed the computer, shutting it off.

I knew I’d been tricked, but still trembled with relief for a few moments as I opened up the letter Eric had given me and recognized Christian’s Poleepkwan handwriting.

 

11/9

Dear Sherry,

I take your comparison of me to your father as a high compliment, and I thank you for it. Do not count my actions as a failure on your part. If anything, they are my own eccentricities and I will have to deal with whatever consequences they may bring. In your own case, I believe you are making the correct decision. From only a few nights spent living among the tents, I can see that working here, within the District, is of much more importance than any preconceived notions I may have had.

I seem to be accumulating much praise from you. If I am not careful, I may set a precedent that I am not able to continuously meet. I will keep an eye out for Kurt, as well as Volker. Either one of them could be of great hindrance if they were to discover me.

Class this past week has been an interesting endeavor, partially because my materials are currently buried under a half dozen meters of solid earth, but also because the attendance has increased since last class. I cannot mention an exact number, as it could be used to extrapolate our location based on the quantity of children, but be assured it was not a minuscule number.

Less fortunate was a recent encounter with several security guards who were not impressed with my apparent demeanor. It was not much of an altercation, I was able to lessen the impact of the blows by diverting their momentum, but as a result I am required to work in one of the fabrication plants for a minimum span of one month. My first day will begin on the morrow, so by the time you receive this letter I will be toiling away under the ever-watching eye of MNU. I can only hope that whatever menial job they have available is one that I may be able to slightly enjoy. Though I will be required to not let the full extent of my mechanical knowledge be known, lest I attract unwanted attention.

Though I may walk through the lowest point of my life, my spirits shall not drop. Not when there is a future to work towards and a multitude of vivacious youths holding them up. I will persevere through this, so that I will be able to meet your father. Oh the things we may discuss.

I am afraid I must away, it is well past the curfew and I do not wish to challenge my luck this early in the game.

Until next we meet,

Christian Heffner

Ground

               

                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."  

Image credit: http://www.scientificamerican.com/slideshow.cfm?id=the-color-of-plants-on-other-worlds