Light

"Run, Oliver! Run, hide!" A metal prod cracked against my back. The white dreamscape was gone; my face was being ground into the dirt of our long-destroyed shack. It was that day—the day I’d been separated from my family. Black-clad human arms beat the breath from Father and me, cracking our shell-plates—but my little brother disappeared into the shadows.

“Sherry!” Dream deviated from memory as Father’s voice echoed through my mind.

“I love you Daddy!” My vision was blurred by joyful tears. “And I’ll carry on your work, I promise! You’ll be proud of me!”

“Sherry…” A light appeared between us, a tiny blue orb the size of a marble. The glow within it danced and flickered for an instant before alighting on my brow like a firefly.

“Remember me…remember what you carry.”

Father blinked slowly, his yellow-gold eyes shining with compassion. “You’re traveling through darkness. But you must keep hope, little one. You must be hope. Remember me…

 

“I will!” My voice became a wordless scream as the MNU humans pinned our arms behind us, dragging us apart...

BUZZ!

The harsh morning bells cut through my dream. I awoke slightly shaking but hurried to help Jared and his friends prepare for the day; ready to face MNU’s school in order to recruit for our own. When our tiny alcove was quiet again I sat on the edge of a cot and powered up my laptop.

 “Can I see?” I hadn’t noticed Talia’s soft footsteps.

“Sure. This is Daddy’s website.” I opened a link and showed her Father’s blog. “He wrote it for about two years before he left.” Talia rested her slight form against my side; snuggled close like Oliver. Faint blue light illuminated her face as she leaned in to read the words on my computer screen.

Her round yellow-green eyes met mine. “He likes Earth better, huh?”

“What?”

“I just mean…better than you like it.” She pointed a tiny finger at two paragraphs; Father’s words from many months ago.

 

I could never express how thankful I am for such shows of support.  It is so important to have humans on our side to strengthen our case against the Multi-National United Corporation.  Having humans in the resistance shows others that non-humans are not some incorrigible race that cannot be reasoned with.

We are sentient beings, just like the humans.  We can grow to understand each other.  We can be friends.  We accomplish more together than apart. Most importantly, we can be allies against all that stands for evil and corruption. Let's continue working together to bring down MNU. 

 

Her yellow-green eyes seemed bright with questions. “Or he just likes humans better. Does he know Dayna? Why doesn’t he talk about home? How’d he learn to write like that?” Her clicks were soft and quiet, but fast.

I leaned back against the dirt wall, scarcely noticing the rivulets of dust that cascaded onto my light green shell-plates. Of course Daddy never hated humans, but… “He talked about home to me and Oliver! But I don’t think he wanted MNU to know his escape plan. He doesn’t like this place.”

Talia made a faint chirping sound, high and curious. “If he just wanted to take us all home, why’d he care about MNU?”

“Well…” I stuttered. “He didn’t know when he could leave and get help for us. It took twenty years to gather enough fuel.” I sighed, thinking of the documentary. “He’s very intelligent, too. He must have known that something might happen to the fluid—like a holder stealing it. Besides, what MNU’s doing is wrong. He’s always believed in stopping them.”

She smiled softly. “He sounds like Dayna. She said that whether the Pole…eep…kwa…” The true name of our people emerged slowly from her throat, from mandibles accustomed to saying “Prawns” or keeping silent. “Stay or go home, she wants us to be free. She’s so kind…”

I stroked the side of her head, wiping a streak of dirt from the MNU tag that marked us all. “I know. But this world…I don’t think we can be free here.”

Her head-antennae swished forward, eyes widening. “That’s not what your daddy said.”

I sat motionless for a long moment, as silent as Talia herself had been for weeks. Finally I drew a deep breath and gently squeezed her hand. “You have Elder eyes, Talia. And an Elder’s wisdom. What he said…it’s something to think about.”

She laid a tentative palm on my keyboard. “Do you have pictures of home on here? Can I see Tar’linka? How big is it?”

“Sorry.” My mouth-tentacles curved upward in a grin. “Only our technology has images of it. Tar’linka isn’t on the Internet.”

“It’s little, right? How big is it? Why is it frozen?”

I laid my computer aside and gave her a sisterly hug. “Smaller than the one moon here. And it’s very cold in space, you know. Tar’linka is like a ball of ice with no atmosphere.”

“What’s atmosphere?”

I kept up with her questions as well as I could, wondering if she had saved them inside through months of silence. Father’s words and the dream kept churning in my mind. I left the little one to practice her Poleepkwan writing; slowly drawing ornate characters on dusty paper as I ducked into Ryan’s alcove.

I stepped back. Green eyes glared at his own computer screen, restraint in every line of his body.  “We've been over this Douglas;” He lifted one hand from the keyboard to point an accusing finger at the screen. “You're the terrorist.”

“The fook I am.” The words appeared in return. “You like torturing those guys? Did you get off on it? I saw their wounds. You’re one sick fella.”

Ryan drew a deep breath. “I didn’t want to hurt them. I gave them the opportunity to cooperate.”

“Yeah, sure. We both knew you just told that Prawn brat that.” The man called Douglas typed the words in an “instant message” window. “I told ya, taking over for Kurt while he’s getting his knee cut up. I know all the shit you terrorists and Prawns have pulled.”

His mouth became a hard line. “Call her that again and I just may come out of this hole. But I guarantee that if I see the light of day, you won't.”

“That fookin' Marvin ain't a ‘her.’ Give me some time with it though, and maybe I’ll make it a ‘her.’ I’d love to hear it squeal.”

“You're not getting anywhere near her. Or any others, if I can help it.”

“Wanna bet, terrorist? Say hi to your Prawn brat for me. Tell her I’ll be waiting for one of you to slip up. I ain't as soft as Kurt was.”

“I've noticed.” His green eyes darkened. “Kurt has the excuse of orders, but you go above and beyond the call of duty, I take it? You’re Douglas Norden. The dealers told me about what you do to my people.”

“So I fook ‘em. I might as well get some kicks outta the job.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“You want me to spell it out for you, terrorist?”

“I don't think you can, but give it a shot you brainless slug.”

“I beat the shit outta them, screw them, and squash them like the fookin’ bugs they are.”

Ryan seemed to be holding himself like a tightly wound wire coil. “On whose orders?”

“Nobody's. I like watching the Prawns squeal for mercy. The dealers like it too—I don’t sell ‘em a Prawn without breaking it in first.”

“Are you the only whacko? Tell me the names of your compatriots, so I can put them on my list as well. Wouldn't want you to go to the afterlife alone. Why don't we make it a party!?”

“Fook that. I’m killing you first, terrorist.”

His face twisted with disgust as he shut down the window, ending the conversation. “Ryan?” The young human heard my hesitant clicks and jumped. “I'm…I’m sorry.” My voice faltered.

“Why would you be sorry?” His posture softened. “You had nothing to do with it.”

I shook my head. “No, I mean I'm sorry for what I said to you before. I just saw how you looked, and I lost sight of...” I made a gesture towards the screen. “That. If what you did stops people like him...if he tried to do that to Talia, I wouldn't hesitate to hurt him either. And I don't know how else you could have gotten the names anyway. I'm sorry I was so hard on you.”

He crouched down so that we met eye-to-eye. “You had a right to be. What I did was wrong.”

“Maybe...but it doesn't matter. It’s like I expected you to be perfect or something.” I reached forward, giving him a tentative hug. “You're still my big brother.”

“You're young,” He tickled my antennae until I grinned. “And you see your heroes as unstoppable forces of nature. Not the people they are. I don't blame you.”

My eyes widened. “You're very forgiving.”

He stood up and sat before his makeshift desk again. “I need to talk to you, and everyone, about something. It's  Christian.”

My breath caught in my throat. “Did you find him?”

“No. But we have to. Nick and Eric are combing the tents looking for him.” He opened up an encrypted e-mail and angled the laptop screen towards me.

 

To the South African Branch of the Alien Rights and Freedom Association:

In the short term, the amazing work you all have done for the Poleepkwa trapped in District 10 has saved many lives. However, until we deal with MNU, we’ll continue fighting to save a handful of poverty-stricken extraterrestrials at a time from a corporation that aims to churn out a battalion of loyal slaves.

The core of the problem is not MNU, but the common people of Earth. Those who even know the conditions that Poleepkwa live in are few and far between, while those doing anything to support said extraterrestrials are even fewer. However, this has begun to change recently thanks to the “District 9” documentary, the exposing of MNU’s illegal genetics research program, and your news report.

Our network of international sponsors has been petitioning the United International Organization for months now. The time has finally come for a Poleepkwa member of our movement to communicate with the UIO directly.

As most ARFA members know, our previous attempts have largely been frustrated. I believe this has been the case for two reasons—one, we’ve been asking for increased rights when the current trend is from a slum to a concentration camp. Smaller steps are necessary. Two, only our human members have spoken before the UIO. This hasn’t done anything to directly disprove the public’s belief that the Poleepkwa are mindless animals.

One of the extraterrestrials themselves must tell them about District 10 directly. If Christian Heffner is willing, he would be perfect for this role. His speech should be convincing, informative, detailed, and emphasize the perils and trauma the Poleepkwa have suffered at the hands of MNU. His request should be that MNU’s contract be allowed to expire and awarded to Tanukashi.

Of course an alien escapee will not be tolerated by the public and MNU will be called to intervene, as it is their responsibility to “manage” them. We have the appointment—the next step will be to form a plan for getting Christian to the UIO headquarters in Joburg safely. We should work together and determine how to best accomplish this.

In Brotherhood,

Thomas Rohrer, Canada base

 

I stared up at Ryan, choosing my words carefully. “Do you think it would work? Even if we got him there? On one hand, the UIO is a bunch of paper-pushers. On the other hand, MNU's reputation is…awful.”

He nodded, absently brushing a clump of dried soil from his khakis. “I think it could work. I know you hate it when I leave you behind…and if Christian and I go together, we both risk being captured. But bettering the situation for... your people is worth that risk.”

“Our  people.” I took his hand in my own. My chest clenched at the thought of losing him, but if this was worth my life…then how could I say it wasn’t worth his? “Douglas sure isn’t, but you are. I'm sorry I ever said you weren't. I wouldn't have, if I'd really listened to Father.”

I couldn’t remember last time I’d seen him smile so broadly, white teeth seeming to shine in a dirt-lined face. “I just hope my luck pulls us through this. And we're not even sure how we'll get into there.”

“Yes. Maybe you'll have to go too...I hope not. First we need to find him, and think of a plan.”

***

 

“Professor...what happened?” I’d expected to find Christian burned. Prodded and wounded like Benjamin, half-starved and perhaps totally broken. He seemed ill instead—when I heard Eric’s footsteps I ran to meet him at the tunnel entrance, and found Christian leaning heavily against him; filthy and shaking as though in shock.

I inwardly cursed my small size as I tried to help Eric guide him to a cot, and couldn’t do any more than obstruct the older Poleepkwa’s path. “I…I’m so glad you’re alive…” Another one I didn’t recognize trailed behind them, his sand-colored plates seeming to almost blend into the tunnel wall.

“I may very well be alive, but fairly soon I may wish I was not.” He lowered himself to rest against the dirt wall, moving as though his body were made of glass.

My jaw clenched tight. “What did they do to you?”

He sighed and slowly shook his head. "They have done nothing. It's all what I have done to myself."

“Here, sit down...” I grabbed a jug of water and handed it to him. “What are you talking about?”

 “I have made several poor choices within the past week. I assumed that I could take care of it myself.” His antennae drooped. “I was wrong.”

 “Take care of what? Are you sick…what happened to you in the factory?”

"I—I've been—“ He sighed deeply, clenching his right arm with his left and flexing his three fingers. “I have been submitted to many things, but this is by far the one that has most affected me."

“Something's affected you...” My mouth-tentacles flared with bewildered agitation. “What happened, Christian?”

Ryan rested a hand on the older Poleepkwa’s shoulder. “How are you holding up?”

The sand-plated one I didn’t recognize walked further into the tunnel, stopping behind the small crowd gathering around our Professor. "He's in withdrawal. I've been watching over him for the past few days."

“Withdrawal?” Ryan’s brow furrowed. Dayna was barely visible out of the corner of my eye, hanging back from the rest. “Christian's never been addicted to anything!”

"I put it off for a very long time,” He clicked softly. “But eventually it was necessary to hold my illusion of being destitute."

His friend chuckled. "As well as the fact that it's pretty boring being the only sober one in the room."

Ryan scarcely seemed to breathe. “Oh…shit.”

Cat food. Not  our Professor, not now… I could almost hear human laughter in my head. My shoulders fell, but I turned to Christian’s nameless friend. “Is there anything we can do?”

“He's been off of it for the past six hours. Believe me; he's not near the worst of it yet.”

“Should we give him space? Or restrain him? What do we do?” Ryan’s voice had an almost wild edge. “Christian... how can we help you?”

"Just keep him off the can, and keep him company. It's worse if you're alone."

"Christian...” My hands clenched into fists. “I know you can beat this. You're a great 'man,' remember?"

He nodded slowly, exhausted eyes meeting my own. "I don't doubt that I can beat it. I only have doubts on how it will end. I never should have started it, but had I not…I don't know where I'd be."

"I'll stay with him.” I grabbed an armload of blankets—which, for me, was only two. “How long until this passes?"

"Well, we don't have any cat food here.” Ryan’s tone was calmer. “I’m just worried if you try to get out, and jones around up top"

“With the way he's feeling, I don't think that's an issue.” I didn’t think to introduce myself to this expert on addiction. “He's got a strong will. I know that much from our time together, but he'll be feeling it for a while. It took John about three days to get through it, but he wasn't as easily separated from the can. I had to lock him in his shack for the last part of it.”

"Thank you so much for helping him. It's more important than you could know.  Are you a good friend of his?"

"I cannot say I've been through worse, but I have survived thus far.” Christian took a slow sip of water. “I will be through this in one more day. That is my promise." He paused for a bit, and then suddenly seemed to remember something important. "Oh, right. I apologize for my manners. This is Sue Richard, and yes that is his official name."

Ryan and Dayna laughed faintly, for a reason I couldn’t imagine. “I'm glad to meet you, Sue." I stood up on the cot to wrap a blanket around Christian's shoulders and sat down next to him. "I can stay with him if you need to rest."

"We have some cots... they're not much, but they beat the ground." My “big brother” gestured further down the tunnels.

Sue shook his head. “Thanks, but I'll be hangin’ around for a bit. Gotta keep an eye on him, and I'd prefer if my eyes are included.”

“Is there any medication that would help him?” I glanced up at Sue and Ryan.

“I don't know about down here,” Sue clicked, an edge of bitterness in his voice. “But we don't get medicine up in the Stain.” I hadn’t heard a Poleepkwa call D-10 that before. “Unless you know the right people, we get jack shit.”

“We have some medications... but most of it is for pain.” Ryan rummaged through a stack of plastic first aid kits piled in a corner. “The only thing that might take his mind off it might get him addicted to that instead.”

“Are they that strong?” Christian’s dark eyes widened. “If it can lessen the pounding within my skull, I would love it.”

My mouth-tentacles curved upward in a grin. “Still our Professor Christian. And we'll need you to be the politician soon...”

“Yes. We really do need you.” Ryan sighed, handing him two white capsules. “If I could do it, I would go for you.”

Christian leaned back and swallowed them, then hugged the drab grey blanket around his shoulders. “Politician? What have I stumbled into?”

Ryan patted my sharp-plated back. “You tell him, okay? I’ll get them some food.” I’d scarcely realized that he was wearing his “signature hat” until he rested it on my own head, pushing down my antennae.

I took a deep breath. “An opportunity. I would do it myself, but I know you're the best choice. ARFA has given us a chance to speak to the world.”

"Man, you guys are into some deep shit here. Acronyms n' everything.” Sue’s grin was lopsided. “But if anyone's gonna hop into the Fryer and talk with the top holders, then it's Christian here. He's got more words in ‘em than I care to listen to.”

I laughed. “That's just what I thought when I first met him. And you're right about...what we're into.” I met Christian’s eyes. “How much does he know? We should get him to the bases with the next group of refugees.”

Sue grunted. “He ain't told me shit; I just got a mind to piece things together. I also ain't goin’ nowhere. Got too many guys to take care of.”

 Christian’s posture straightened. “As you can see, Sue is about as independent as I am. I doubt you'll be able to make him leave.”

 “He's seen our tunnels, but if you trust him then I do.” I sighed. “Sue, I guess you've figured out that your friend isn't from here. He's part of an...organization, obviously. We get our people out of here, and try to educate as many as we can.”

I paused, my own words seeming horribly inadequate. “When you're better, Christian, we'll figure out how to get you to the capital safely. I have an idea...but we'll see. We need someone to convince the UIO that the South African government has to let MNU's contract expire, and let Tanukashi take over. You're the 'man' for the job.  We got an e-mail from ARFA today. With the documentary, the news report...now is the time.”

Sue chuckled. I could scarcely hear him mutter, “Man.”

“Then I had better sober up quick. There is work to be done.”

I hesitated for a moment, and then threw my arms around his neck in a tiny, childlike hug. “Yes. There is.”