results. The bracelets are coded to each individual Lithid’s DNA. It constantly scans for specific DNA patterns via the small metal probes that slice into the Lithid’s skin. If the scan does not find that specific DNA strand during one of its searches, the bracelet is programmed to detonate.” Alcent sighed heavily. “The Terrans are light years ahead of us when it comes to genetic research. I wouldn’t even know where to begin in order to bypass their technology. I’m sorry, but I don’t know what we can do with them.”
Keryn rubbed her forehead in frustration. “What’s to stop the Terran’s from just blowing all the bracelets remotely once we start the revolution? We could be condemning every Lithid on the planet by doing this.”
“Keryn, I’m sorry,” Alcent replied, his voice soft and apologetic. “I know your friend is a Lithid, but there’s nothing we can do. Either we stop this revolt because of our personal feelings for our friends, which I won’t allow, or we drive forward and accept their deaths as collateral damage.”
She grimaced at Alcent’s word choices. “Collateral damage” sounded so incredibly impersonal for someone as close to her as Penchant. She pictured in her mind the hundreds of different faces he had assumed during their time together and couldn’t imagine him being gone from her life.
“I have to let him know,” she said finally, her own voice full of emotion. “Even if I can’t warn them all, I owe it to him to let him know.”
Alcent nodded, understanding. “Just be careful. We’re going to be striking in less than five hours. We can’t take the chance of being exposed now.”
Keryn and Adam collected their gear for the assault, sliding on their combat vests, collecting ammunition, and stowing their modified assault rifles beneath their jackets. Glancing over her shoulder as they approached the exit to the building, Keryn lifted a hand to wave farewell. In one of her many meaningless prayers to Gods she didn’t follow, she prayed that everything would go as planned in the morning.
The walk back to House 12 was slow. Neither Keryn nor Adam said much, both lost in the thought of condemning their friend to death. They paused outside the door, Keryn’s emotions a turmoil of both jubilation for the assault, remorse for their friend, and fear of failure. Adam slid his hand into hers, his presence giving her strength. Together, they opened the door and slipped into the interior darkness. As he had been for the past two nights, Penchant stood stoic watch near the door, eager to hear the latest news.
With sorrow filled eyes, Keryn looked at the blank black oval of his face. “Penchant, we need to talk.”
“No good news has ever come when a woman utters those words,” Penchant joked, his humor masking his own nervousness.
Keryn swallowed hard, trying to force down the emotion that threatened to spill forth. During their walk to the house, she had practiced over and over again what she would say. But now standing before him, she found it difficult to tell him that he was going to die.
Penchant nodded, as though reading her mind. “Alcent can’t remove the bracelet, can he?”
“No,” Adam replied firmly behind her. She was glad to have him there, since she wasn’t sure she could have spoken without betraying her own sadness.
“Which means that in four hours, no matter how successful your assault, the Terrans are going to remotely detonate all the Lithid’s bracelets and I’m going to die,” Penchant stated matter-of-factly. He slammed his fist into his palm, a rare display of emotion.
Silence stretched between the trio; Keryn felt unsure of what words she could speak that wouldn’t sound completely hollow in light of Penchant dying.
“It’s just so senseless,” Penchant finally said, his anger rumbling through his gravelly voice. “After all our training, all our fighting, this is it for me? No blaze of glory? No remarkable last words? Nothing. Tomorrow morning, I wake up and die.”
“I’m truly sorry,” Keryn whispered.
“Spare me,” Penchant said angrily, dismissing her with a wave of his hand. “Go to bed. I’m sure you both will need your rest before your big day tomorrow.” Penchant slid down the wall until he was sitting, his knees pulled into his chest. He turned his head away from them, effectively ending the conversation.
Moving away from the Lithid, Keryn and Adam moved gingerly over the rest of the sleeping forms until they had reached their area. Adam placed his supplies cautiously on the ground, covering them from prying eyes with his long jacket and remaining clothes. He gestured for Keryn to join him underneath the warm blanket, but she shook her head. Instead, she assumed a seated pose similar to Penchant’s, her arms wrapped around her legs and her chin resting on her knees. Though she knew she needed rest, she found that between anticipation of battle and a yearning to console Penchant, sleep just wouldn’t come.
In the morning, the loudspeakers roared to life, announcing that it was time to report to the work groups. Survivors shuffled from the houses, their eyes bleary and bodies exhausted from daily labor. Keryn tried to catch up to Penchant as he left the house, but she couldn’t break through the sea of people. Shortly thereafter, he disappeared from her view. Both she and Adam kept their heads low as they moved to their designated position near one of the houses with a clear view of the awaiting Terran supervisors.
Spotlights flooded the street where the survivors gathered, awaiting their segregation into individual work groups and their daily march into the rubble fields. Feeling her own nervousness, Keryn placed a comforting hand on the assault rifle under her long jacket and, closing her eyes, took a deep breath, willing her body to relax.
From in front of the gathered people, a Terran lifted a microphone to the thick black faceplate. “Gather into your assigned groups and follow your designated supervisor to you work areas,” the Terran said, his muffled voice coming from behind the faceplate boomed over the loudspeakers. The survivors had heard the similar speech every day for the past three weeks. “Any deviation from your assigned group will result in summarized execution. Any disobedience of the orders given by your supervisor will result in summarized execution. Any one not working to their fullest capability while in their work area will result in…”
His speech was cut short as another booming voice roared through the crowd, interrupting the oft-rehearsed presentation. The crowd turned in search of the new speaker as he began.
“Listen to me,” came a gravelly yell, the voice carrying clearly through the quiet crowd. “I have lived under the yoke of Terran occupation for three weeks and I have no intention of doing so any longer!”
The Terran squad commander motioned for his men to move forward, and they began pushing through the crowd in search of the speaker.
“They killed us when they dropped bombs,” the voice continued. “Those who died in the explosion were lucky, for they died as free men and women. For the rest of us, the Terrans figured they would kill us a little slower. Many succumbed and died in the fields. But I ask you to look around at one another. Look into the faces of the man or woman standing next to you. Their eyes are already dead. Your soul has already died, though your body is not smart enough to follow suit and collapse into the snow. If you’re content to live as a zombie, shuffling and slaving for masters that want nothing more than your spirit eternally crushed, then save them the time and build yourself a casket within these pristine fields of white snow. Dig it deep. Bury yourself beneath the white powder and let the freezing cold finally do what you don’t have the courage to do yourself.”
“Ignore him,” the Terran squad commander announced over the loudspeaker. “Spreading propaganda will result in summarized execution.”
The guards angrily shoved through the throngs of people, hunting crazily for the speaker, who remained elusive. The Terrans spread out, hoping to canvas the entire crowd in case the speaker continued. And continue he did.
“For some of us, however, we don’t have the same chance that you all do. For some of us, we are constantly reminded of our impending death by the bracelet callously strapped to our wrists. Our deaths are not our own, but are controlled at the whim of a
A scream erupted from the center of the crowd. The survivors parted in a circle around two figures. One, a Terran guard, slid slowly to the ground, carefully trying to hold entrails that poured from his abdomen. Beside him, a Lithid stood proudly, his hand dripping with the red blood and gore that he ripped from the guard’s stomach.
“My name is Penchant,” the Lithid cried from the center of the circle, “and I am proud! And if I’m going to die today, I’ll do it by
Keryn watched in stunned silence, much like the rest of the crowd. Penchant’s skin rippled and wavered as he
