unexpected. We had all been counting unconsciously. A second extra blow, and the boy’s cries are audibly growing. He’s expected to endure his punishment in silence, but the extra lashes push him over the edge.
Bastian is standing next to me, a uniformed tower. “Do something!” I implore.
He hesitates, but seeing my distress, he pushes tentatively through the crowd. He calls out and approaches the soldiers slowly, the green and black of his uniform a stark contrast to the grey and black of theirs. He is well outranked here.
“With all due respect, Sir -” he begins.
“Stand down, Soldier,” comes the cool response. “This is none of your business.”
“Sir, the boy has –“
“Are you deaf, yarco? I said, stand down .” Another pink line begins to blend with the others, and the youth is audibly sobbing now. The officer places his hand on the holster at his hip that holds his dazer, watching Bastian meaningfully.
Bastian backs away, but another figure separates from the crowd and moves towards the soldiers. It’s Grandad. His voice is calm and quiet, but carries to all of us. He is asking the officer to show leniency. The boy is only young and makes mistakes, he has learned his lesson.
The officer has frozen. He appraises the old man standing in the square.
I see the Polisborn holding the boy drop his arms, and he collapses to the pavement, broken, sobbing. They turn their attention to Grandad.
I am pushing my way through the crowd, yelling and shoving with my elbows and shoulders, but as I burst from the crowd I can see that Grandad is down, the soldiers both kicking him.
I bend over Grandad and am vaguely aware that the grey and black soldiers are moving away, the crowd dispersing with them. Auntie Marama is next to me by Grandad’s side. He is lying motionless in the foetal position, blood dribbling from the side of his mouth to the wet cobbles.
I’m shaking all over and I can’t do anything to stop it. I can feel that my cheeks are wet. There is a stone in my stomach. My throat is being squeezed shut. I can hear a strange noise and I realise that it is coming from me; I’m trying to draw in breaths. My hands are flitting over him, I want to do something but I can’t seem to control them.
“He’ll be okay,” she repeats. Her voice has been trying to reach me. “We’ll get him home, he’ll be alright.” She is talking to me, trying to calm me. Bastian is there too, and he gently rolls Grandad over. He lifts the old man’s small frame easily in his arms, his head against his chest.
Grandad’s eyes remain closed.
Chapter Seven
Bastian carries Grandad home to our pod with Auntie Marama and me close behind. The door opens to my passkey and he carries Grandad’s limp form to the back room. Auntie Marama is calm, taking his pulse and making him comfortable, but I’m a mess. I can’t do anything but stand and stare at Grandad, lying unmoving on his mattress. She sends me to heat water on the induction pad and get together some towels and cloths.
Bastian has gone for the local doctor, and it’s not long before they return. When he finds that the injuries are a result of a Polis beating though, the doctor is reluctant to get involved.
My anger flares. “If he was Firstborn it would be different. My grandfather is hurt! You’re a doctor, and he needs your help – so, help!”
He rounds on me. “Listen here, young lady. I have a family too and helping your granddad is not worth their safety.”
Bastian calms me while Auntie Marama pleads with him. “Please, Doctor… Matthias may not be Firstborn, but he is a good man. He was hurt protecting a young one. Just tell us what can be done.”
Pausing at the door, he relents and eyes me warily. “Alright – I’ll look him over. He helped my wife last summer with aphid problems. But I can’t administer anything.”
He moves into the back room and spends some time with Grandad. Finally when he emerges, he tells us that it’s not
Bastian is standing next to me, a uniformed tower. “Do something!” I implore.
He hesitates, but seeing my distress, he pushes tentatively through the crowd. He calls out and approaches the soldiers slowly, the green and black of his uniform a stark contrast to the grey and black of theirs. He is well outranked here.
“With all due respect, Sir -” he begins.
“Stand down, Soldier,” comes the cool response. “This is none of your business.”
“Sir, the boy has –“
“Are you deaf, yarco? I said, stand down .” Another pink line begins to blend with the others, and the youth is audibly sobbing now. The officer places his hand on the holster at his hip that holds his dazer, watching Bastian meaningfully.
Bastian backs away, but another figure separates from the crowd and moves towards the soldiers. It’s Grandad. His voice is calm and quiet, but carries to all of us. He is asking the officer to show leniency. The boy is only young and makes mistakes, he has learned his lesson.
The officer has frozen. He appraises the old man standing in the square.
I see the Polisborn holding the boy drop his arms, and he collapses to the pavement, broken, sobbing. They turn their attention to Grandad.
I am pushing my way through the crowd, yelling and shoving with my elbows and shoulders, but as I burst from the crowd I can see that Grandad is down, the soldiers both kicking him.
I bend over Grandad and am vaguely aware that the grey and black soldiers are moving away, the crowd dispersing with them. Auntie Marama is next to me by Grandad’s side. He is lying motionless in the foetal position, blood dribbling from the side of his mouth to the wet cobbles.
I’m shaking all over and I can’t do anything to stop it. I can feel that my cheeks are wet. There is a stone in my stomach. My throat is being squeezed shut. I can hear a strange noise and I realise that it is coming from me; I’m trying to draw in breaths. My hands are flitting over him, I want to do something but I can’t seem to control them.
“He’ll be okay,” she repeats. Her voice has been trying to reach me. “We’ll get him home, he’ll be alright.” She is talking to me, trying to calm me. Bastian is there too, and he gently rolls Grandad over. He lifts the old man’s small frame easily in his arms, his head against his chest.
Grandad’s eyes remain closed.
Chapter Seven
Bastian carries Grandad home to our pod with Auntie Marama and me close behind. The door opens to my passkey and he carries Grandad’s limp form to the back room. Auntie Marama is calm, taking his pulse and making him comfortable, but I’m a mess. I can’t do anything but stand and stare at Grandad, lying unmoving on his mattress. She sends me to heat water on the induction pad and get together some towels and cloths.
Bastian has gone for the local doctor, and it’s not long before they return. When he finds that the injuries are a result of a Polis beating though, the doctor is reluctant to get involved.
My anger flares. “If he was Firstborn it would be different. My grandfather is hurt! You’re a doctor, and he needs your help – so, help!”
He rounds on me. “Listen here, young lady. I have a family too and helping your granddad is not worth their safety.”
Bastian calms me while Auntie Marama pleads with him. “Please, Doctor… Matthias may not be Firstborn, but he is a good man. He was hurt protecting a young one. Just tell us what can be done.”
Pausing at the door, he relents and eyes me warily. “Alright – I’ll look him over. He helped my wife last summer with aphid problems. But I can’t administer anything.”
He moves into the back room and spends some time with Grandad. Finally when he emerges, he tells us that it’s not
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