Sullivan and Jones spoke little.
Instead, Sullivan’s thoughts turned inward, as they had so often done during trying times. The main thought was a comforting one: he thought of avenging the deaths of his parents and the countless others who had lost their lives during the rebellion. But that hadn’t been the end of the killing. The atrocities during the rebellion had only been the most visible of the government’s crimes. As a soldier in Edaline’s special forces, Sullivan had taken part in operations against civilians. He had killed civilians whose only crime was wanting a better government. But that wasn’t the worst of it. For years, he’d been able to justify it to himself. A stable government, he’d reasoned, kept the majority of the people safe. They were allowed a great deal of freedom, considering the alternative. They were generally free from want, from hunger, from persecution.
But the night they’d raided that apartment block west of the stadium, the night Lieutenant Price had ordered Sullivan to execute that teenaged boy… that was the night everything had changed, the night the justification had ended. He’d seen himself in that boy’s eyes; he’d seen a boy whose parents were dead at the hands of Edaline’s government, a boy who was innocent of any wrong-doing himself.
“He’ll grow up to be just like them,” Price had said. “Do it, Sullivan.” Price had placed the barrel of his sidearm against Sullivan’s head. “Do it, or I’ll do both of you.”
Sullivan had raised his rifle, taken aim at the boy’s chest and pulled the trigger. If nothing else, he would get justice for that boy. He’d find Price and execute him the way that boy had been executed
AFTER FOUR MONTHS of travel, Abilene’s star system drew near. Sullivan was asleep when they dropped out of hyperspace but awoke upon hearing Jones enter the cabin.
“Time to get back in your hole. Abilene’s perimeter ships have asked for my cargo and passenger manifests. They’ll only expect one life sign when they scan us.”
Sullivan got up from his bunk, went forward to the ship’s cockpit and waited as Jones pulled back the panel to reveal the crawlspace. He got in, and Jones replaced the panel. The next sound he heard was the whirring of an electric screwdriver as Jones secured the panel in place.
Sullivan waited. An hour passed, then another. He felt changes in acceleration and felt the gravity shift as the ship entered Abilene’s atmosphere and Jones switched off the artificial gravity generator. Abilene was a smaller planet than Earth and Sullivan felt lighter, which gave some relief to his aching back.
The landing was smooth. Sullivan heard Jones talking with some men and assumed these were Abilene’s port authority inspectors. Abilene was generally considered lawless, but the government that it did have did its best to make sure they got a percentage of every cargo that came in. This, not security, was the real purpose of their port authority.
Sullivan didn’t hear any sounds for twenty or thirty minutes. He worried that Jones was having some problem with the inspectors. Finally, he heard footsteps. He hoped Jones was coming to let him out. Those hopes were dashed when he heard a second set of footsteps, then a third.
Sullivan heard someone step up to the panel. The next sound he heard was the electric screwdriver. Were these friends of Jones or were they the inspectors? He waited in anticipation as he heard the first screw clatter to the floor, then the second, the third, the fourth.
The panel lifted off, and Sullivan was blinded by a strong light shining in his eyes. He brought his hand up to his face. “What’s the idea, Jones?”
A firm grip pulled him from the cubby, and as his eyes adjusted, he saw that it wasn’t Jones. It was a large redheaded man. He felt a sharp prick at his jugular, and the last thing he saw before losing consciousness was a thick red beard sitting atop a thick neck. A
Instead, Sullivan’s thoughts turned inward, as they had so often done during trying times. The main thought was a comforting one: he thought of avenging the deaths of his parents and the countless others who had lost their lives during the rebellion. But that hadn’t been the end of the killing. The atrocities during the rebellion had only been the most visible of the government’s crimes. As a soldier in Edaline’s special forces, Sullivan had taken part in operations against civilians. He had killed civilians whose only crime was wanting a better government. But that wasn’t the worst of it. For years, he’d been able to justify it to himself. A stable government, he’d reasoned, kept the majority of the people safe. They were allowed a great deal of freedom, considering the alternative. They were generally free from want, from hunger, from persecution.
But the night they’d raided that apartment block west of the stadium, the night Lieutenant Price had ordered Sullivan to execute that teenaged boy… that was the night everything had changed, the night the justification had ended. He’d seen himself in that boy’s eyes; he’d seen a boy whose parents were dead at the hands of Edaline’s government, a boy who was innocent of any wrong-doing himself.
“He’ll grow up to be just like them,” Price had said. “Do it, Sullivan.” Price had placed the barrel of his sidearm against Sullivan’s head. “Do it, or I’ll do both of you.”
Sullivan had raised his rifle, taken aim at the boy’s chest and pulled the trigger. If nothing else, he would get justice for that boy. He’d find Price and execute him the way that boy had been executed
AFTER FOUR MONTHS of travel, Abilene’s star system drew near. Sullivan was asleep when they dropped out of hyperspace but awoke upon hearing Jones enter the cabin.
“Time to get back in your hole. Abilene’s perimeter ships have asked for my cargo and passenger manifests. They’ll only expect one life sign when they scan us.”
Sullivan got up from his bunk, went forward to the ship’s cockpit and waited as Jones pulled back the panel to reveal the crawlspace. He got in, and Jones replaced the panel. The next sound he heard was the whirring of an electric screwdriver as Jones secured the panel in place.
Sullivan waited. An hour passed, then another. He felt changes in acceleration and felt the gravity shift as the ship entered Abilene’s atmosphere and Jones switched off the artificial gravity generator. Abilene was a smaller planet than Earth and Sullivan felt lighter, which gave some relief to his aching back.
The landing was smooth. Sullivan heard Jones talking with some men and assumed these were Abilene’s port authority inspectors. Abilene was generally considered lawless, but the government that it did have did its best to make sure they got a percentage of every cargo that came in. This, not security, was the real purpose of their port authority.
Sullivan didn’t hear any sounds for twenty or thirty minutes. He worried that Jones was having some problem with the inspectors. Finally, he heard footsteps. He hoped Jones was coming to let him out. Those hopes were dashed when he heard a second set of footsteps, then a third.
Sullivan heard someone step up to the panel. The next sound he heard was the electric screwdriver. Were these friends of Jones or were they the inspectors? He waited in anticipation as he heard the first screw clatter to the floor, then the second, the third, the fourth.
The panel lifted off, and Sullivan was blinded by a strong light shining in his eyes. He brought his hand up to his face. “What’s the idea, Jones?”
A firm grip pulled him from the cubby, and as his eyes adjusted, he saw that it wasn’t Jones. It was a large redheaded man. He felt a sharp prick at his jugular, and the last thing he saw before losing consciousness was a thick red beard sitting atop a thick neck. A
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