‘What the hell are you doing?’ she demands.
I don’t answer. Instead, I fire and the captain crumples to the ground. The medic cowers, gripping the syringe. The General doesn’t move.
‘I see,’ she says. ‘You have come to kill me after all.’
‘The opposite.’
She frowns. A second later the medic lunges towards me with the needle. I duck, driving my shoulder into their sternum. The needle clatters across the floor as I press the mouth of the gun to the back of the medic’s neck.
‘I’m not trying to kill you,’ I say. ‘They are.’
‘What?’
Before I can answer, the medic jerks their head, watering eyes fixed on the blank screen that takes up the entirety of one wall, their lips moving, mouthing silent words.
‘What’s in that syringe?’ I demand, digging the gun into their neck.
‘Go to hell.’
Slowly, the General slides from the examining bed and picks up the syringe, filled with a blueish serum.
‘It’s supposed to be an immune booster,’ she says thoughtfully, before stepping in front of the medic. ‘You. Speak. What is this?’
‘J-just an immune compound,’ the medic wheezes. ‘Like you say. What else could it be?’
I can see the sweat on the nape of their neck as they look again at the screen.
‘That uniform belongs to Sergeant Garnet,’ the General says suddenly.
‘Sergeant Garnet tried to kill me.’
‘The delivery?’
‘There was no delivery. Only an ambush.’ I look at her. ‘They’ve declared you dead. I read it in a bulletin. This isn’t an examination. It’s an execution.’
The General’s face goes still. When she speaks, her voice is soft. ‘You’re mad, traitor. Like I thought.’
I nod at the syringe. ‘See for yourself.’
The General holds my gaze, before abruptly leaning forwards and stabbing the needle into the medic’s thigh.
The medic shrieks and struggles madly, flailing at the syringe. The General holds it firm, her thumb on the plunger.
‘What’s wrong, if it’s only an immune booster?’ she says viciously.
‘Help!’ the medic screams. ‘Help me!’
A flash of light and the screen flickers into life. It shows a viewing room filled with people in uniform. Sitting in the centre is an older woman with grey curly hair, closely cropped to show the tattoos of command; two faded triangles underscored by four thicker lines. Medals and ribbons drip from her chest.
‘General Ortiz,’ her voice booms. ‘Stand down.’
The General gapes. ‘Commander?’
The older woman’s face is like stone. ‘By the ordinances of the Army of the First Accord, I, Commander Beatrice Aline, have issued an order for your compassionate termination, with immediate effect.’ A moment later her face changes, softening into pity. ‘Stand down, Gabi.’
‘Compassionate termination?’ The General’s voice trembles.
The woman nods, glancing at the medic, who sits hunched against the wall, gripping their thigh. ‘You are dying. In a few months, perhaps less, your body will fail you completely.’
‘Is it true?’
She’s talking to me. I tear my eyes from the Commander’s face and look down.
‘You treated me,’ the General continues. ‘Is it true? That my body is failing?’
She is ill in some way, of that I am certain. But dying? I meet her eyes. ‘I don’t know.’
‘Enough,’ the Commander barks. ‘We are the experts in this matter. We do not need the opinion of a convict.’ She leans forwards. ‘We have seen this process before, Ortiz. It began two years ago, with the A-series. As they aged, they simply broke down. We have tried to counteract it, but there was nothing we could do. It is a painful, wretched end.’
The General looks dazed. ‘The wreck?’ she asks distantly.
Aline takes a breath. ‘Unfortunate. You were the only intended casualty. An error evidently occurred.’ She shakes her head. ‘The termination order was issued to prevent this kind of suffering, Gabi, to allow you to die with honour. As befits someone of your rank.’
The General makes a noise and drops her head to the floor. She sat in the same attitude in the train car, staring at the dying ant. Had she known, even then, that she was doomed?
‘What happens to the traitor?’ she asks, her voice a husk. ‘When I die, what will be done with her?’
I keep my eyes averted, clenching my hand to stop myself from touching the bandages about my neck. They cannot have sent me here for this.
The Commander seems surprised. ‘She is obviously of unsound mind. But if you wish it, we’ll make special dispensation and send her to be cared for in a secure facility.’ She does even glance my way. ‘We will do that much, in recognition of your great service, General. In recognition of your legacy.’
‘My legacy,’ the General murmurs, and raises her head. Her eyes are red-rimmed but dry. ‘Yes. I see.’
‘General.’ I reach for her.
‘Stand aside, traitor. This is not your choice.’ For an instant, a tiny smile twists her lips. ‘Strange, but I’m pleased you’re here.’ She holds out a hand. ‘I thank you for your efforts.’
I force myself to return the gesture. Her fingers are small and callused in mine.
‘Alright,’ she says, letting go, locking her hands behind her back. ‘I’m ready.’
The Commander nods. ‘Medic?’
‘What about her?’ the medic asks, eyeing me with hatred as they climb to their feet.
‘She will remain silent, if she wishes to live. An escort is already on its way.’
Swallowing hard, the medic goes to the workbench and fills a fresh syringe from a vial that waits there.
‘On my word,’ the Commander says.
The medic sets the point of the needle against the General’s arm.
I cannot watch. Instead, I lower my head to stare at the unconscious captain, blood beating in my ears, so certain that this is wrong… Then, something catches my gaze: the holster at the captain’s belt hangs empty, where before it contained a pistol. I look up at the General in alarm.
She and the Commander stare at each other, their pupils like the dots on two sets of dice. The air shudders around me.
‘N—’ I begin.
An explosion like thunder and the medic is thrown back against the wall, their chest burst open by a
