“Yes, better than if we were still living on the other side of the fence.”
“You think those people care about us? You think the Administration would do anything to protect us? They aren’t going to a damn thing for us!” Maverick waved an arm toward the civilization behind Sawyer before his shoulders slumped, his eyes and expression taking on a defeatist aura. “Nobody can protect us, so we have to protect ourselves.”
“Yes, yes, protect yourselves.” Carl motioned for them to join him, opening the door and looking back over his shoulder at their filthy states. “Just don’t touch anything.”
As Maverick walked into the building, it occurred to Sawyer their values may not be so different after all.
Chapter 3. purpose
The room once served as a locker room – indicated by the aluminum cabinets lining each wall and broken benches scattered in between. Dust covered every surface, mixing with the stale odor of abandonment. The door offered a symbolic privacy as he dressed, its panel swinging by a single hinge without a latch. Sawyer shrugged into his jacket; he’d wiped the worst of the mud from its thickness, but brown splotches still dampened the material. The reminder of his altercation with Maverick was on his mind when the boy entered.
“Hey, feeling better?” Maverick shuffled anxiously, his eyes averted from meeting Sawyer’s.
“Much,” Sawyer’s expression hardened at the sight of his brother; his khaki pants and black tee shirt standing dark against the pallor of his flesh. Sawyer sensed a deeper tension in Maverick’s bearing than guilt or discomfort from their argument. “What’s wrong?”
“Promise you won’t get mad,” Maverick shifted with uncustomary anxiety, as if their earlier argument left a mark on his confidence.
“What did you do?”
“Not me; well, not exactly me. I wasn’t going to tell you unless we found something, but we did; so, I’m telling you.” Maverick hesitated beneath Sawyer’s suspicious glare; “Carl hacked into the Terran Space Station surveillance signal.”
Sawyer’s temper resurrected into a flurry of curses; “What in hellfire is that man thinking?”
“He was trying to help.”
“Help?” Sawyer asked incredulously. “Hacking an Admin system is illegal; it’s treason. Why would he do that?”
“Because I asked him to,” Maverick’s admission silenced Sawyer in an instant. At his continued speechlessness, Maverick continued with an explanation. “I heard you and Wil talking about Beta Sect.”
“What about Beta Sect?” Sawyer felt his face flush with anxiety. It was no secret the neighboring Sects were unhappy with Alpha Sect’s continual growth and productive crops while their own failed. It was common for Sects to share their spoils, but with the TSS supply drops dwindling from once a week to once a month, the less productive Sects struggled more, and Alpha offered less. Desperation led to resentment and unrest among the Sects and threats of civil war were prominent.
“That they are amassing a larger militia by combining with other Sects and villages; that they might attack us for our supplies.”
“That’s just rumors,” Sawyer’s voice cracked from the acid eroding his throat; he cleared the roughness before speaking. “It’s nothing you need to worry about. It doesn’t concern you.”
“It doesn’t concern me?”
“No, it doesn’t. You’re fifteen, Mav, you need to be focused on your lectures, not on what’s happening outside the fence.”
“My brother is going to war with the largest armed militia on Flamouria; that concerns me!” Maverick’s eyes glazed with moisture and he cleared his throat through quivering lips as he pulled a slip of paper from his pocket. “They aren’t just rumors.”
Sawyer looked down at the harsh print Maverick handed him, straining to discern the image through the static. The overhead image of Beta Sect showed a similar layout to Alpha Sect; a dwelling zone, agricultural areas, and storage buildings surrounding larger administration buildings. Though larger in size than Alpha Sect, the Beta Sect compound maintained one fatal flaw: there were no highlands on which to grow crops or raise livestock. Their fields were barren wastes during the day and swamp by night; their animals were malnourished and sickly. There was discussion of moving the compound many times through the years, but it was always met with immediate refusal by the Sect’s Senior Administrators. Beta Sect’s only salvation was its militia training facility, which sat on top of the only functional ore mine known to exist on the planet. The mines offered materials for building tools and weapons, but denied them any opportunity for a reliable food or fresh water source.
“That’s what you’re up against.” Maverick pointed at the highlighted areas on the image: weapon ranges, bunkers, and forges; the size of their militia assumed by the dotted, black mass surrounding and infusing the area. “You said it was ‘only a matter of time’. You said the TSS supply drops are too infrequent to sustain all the Sects on the planet. Desperate people do desperate things, right?”
“That’s a last resort, the Admins are trying to work out a compromise.”
“Compromise?” Maverick snorted in disbelief. “Like those pompous asses in command give a damn about anyone but themselves. So, why fight for them?”
“It’s my duty.”
“Your duty to whom? To the Administration; to Alpha Sect? Fine, then look away and hide. You know how to do that.” Sawyer winced at Maverick’s subtle jab.
“That’s not fair, Mav.” Memory made his voice harsh, pulling him through dark places he didn’t want to explore. He felt the heat of flames, smelled the char of burning flesh, and tasted the tang of blood on thick air. The worst was the sounds; the anguished, desperate shrieks of innocent colonists and then silence as their voices were mercifully muted. “We were kids. Dad told us to run.”
“I’m sorry,” Maverick lowered his voice, looking away from Sawyer’s distressed expression in regret of his words. “You know I don’t blame you.”
“I know,” Maverick assurance didn’t expunge his guilt, but Sawyer cleared it
