Sawyer sat on the hard floor of the storage facility, the coolness of the aluminum seeping up through his dampened clothing and chilling what little heat remained from his body. “They’re seriously just going to wipe us all out? There are families here, women and children, innocent civilians who have no part in this war,” Sawyer felt a bubble of rage rise up in his throat at the unjust actions of their species.
“You think they care? Hellfire, boy, Flamouria was never a long-term possibility; no sustainability. Look around; what do we have? Rocks, mud, and a few scrub trees? We can’t survive without the constant supply drops from the TSS. Any useful resources were used up in the first five years of settlement. We were supposed to abandon this place then!”
“But we didn’t,” Sawyer shook his head as he processed the information. “They must have seen a reason to stay.”
“Yeah, they did,” the Lieutenant nodded, his look pitying of what he saw as Sawyer’s naïve ignorance. “A way to appease the masses. Alien disorder was already rampant then, why would they risk bringing us back? You know what my mission was when I transferred here? Contain the savages until the Tritons region could be established. Well guess what? Job’s done.”
“Then why don’t they just leave; go and let us in peace?” Sawyer’s last remaining optimism and faith in the Administration withered. “We’ll die off eventually anyway.”
“That was the plan at first, but it wasn’t fast enough. The overstock and trade routes would sustain this place for a few more decades. The best option was war. Now, well, they can’t risk leaving us now, not after Beta Sect took that transport and we created that,” Lieutenant Pierce nodded in the direction of the weapon his administrative scientists created. “The savages might find a way off world. They might build weapons and start a war in the civilized areas of space. Best to make sure no vessel on the planet makes it off-world.”
“We may have been born on Flamouria, but we’re still human,” Sawyer didn’t believe his words. He didn’t feel human; he didn’t want to feel human: able to abandon his people, to purge them from existence from the safety of orbit.
“We’re not humans to them anymore; we’re no better than the animals and savages,” Lieutenant Pierce sighed again, picking up his pistol and cocking it with a resigned slowness.
“Put it down, Lieutenant,” Wil ordered, cocking his own weapon in response.
“I’ve heard the TSS cannon doesn’t kill quick. You see it coming. You can feel the heat – smell the singe of your hairs and burning of your flesh – before it reaches you. I won’t go out like that,” the Lieutenant ignored Wil’s command. “I’m sorry, you weren’t here for the field test. It was quick and precise. They didn’t feel any pain. Hellfire, they didn’t even know what hit them. It was mercy.”
“Mercy? Killing these men is mercy?” Wil’s voice shook with the rage and disgust he tried to suppress, but his hand remained steady on his pistol; his aim never wavered. “I don’t care how you classify it. You’re no better than the Admins in that space station about to vaporize everyone down here.”
“None of us are any better than them,” the Lieutenant looked off into the distance for a moment, his gaze wistful as he remembered some far away, pleasant experience. “It’s a shame. I was hoping to watch my little girls grow up.”
“Lieutenant Pierce, there has to be a way to stop this,” Sawyer insisted, the thought of his brother’s life ending was unacceptable. “Help me stop this.”
“It can’t be stopped, boy,” Lieutenant Pierce looked at him pitifully.
“We all have family we want to see grow up. I have a little brother, remember? He deserves to grow up, just like your girls,” Sawyer was sickened at the man’s willingness to accept their fate. “We can talk to the TSS and work something out. Surely they would be willing to at least transport women and children off world.”
“They already did,” the Lieutenant smiled sadly.
“They were on that transport you were kicked off, weren’t they?” Wil shook as he spoke, enlightenment hitting him the same time it did Sawyer.
“I’m sorry you’ll watch your brother die,” Lieutenant Pierce sighed, his eyes struggling to stay open as he finished speaking. “Take my advice, son. Take that pulse weapon and do it yourself. It’s quicker; more humane. You don’t have to watch him burn.”
With those final words, Lieutenant Henry Pierce raised the pistol to his temple and – amid shouted demands to stop from the two, younger men – pulled the trigger. The vibration pinged around the metal facility, offering cruel emphasis as the Lieutenant slumped against the blood-sprayed wall.
Wil holstered his pistol. “What do we do now?”
Sawyer opened his mouth to answer, but no sound came. The lights seemed too bright, the air too thick, and the skin over his bones too tight; nothing fit in its place – nothing felt right. Every belief he held, every comfort he claimed, every confidence he kept disintegrated; specks of ash in the thick, acrid smoke drifting up to vanish in the night sky.
A loud tone startled them from their shock, drawing attention to a flashing console behind Wil. Wires extended from a monitor to connect a speaker and communications panel; a red light flashing on the controls insistently as it summoned them closer. Sawyer moved to answer the call, but stopped at Wil’s insistence; “Wait, I’ll do it. Maybe my last name still means something.”
Sawyer stayed beyond the monitor’s view as it sprung to life with a crackle of static. Senior Administrator Fischer Dehring’s face appeared on the screen, his complexion ashen with dark rings beneath his eyes. “Wilhelm! What are you doing there?”
“I’m still
