Chapter 3 Rebellion Vs. Freedom
THREE
REBELLION VS. FREEDOM
Sabrina
“Annora will remain with the ship while the rest of us spread out and look around,” Weston says as we finish gearing up inside the ship’s side door chamber.
I check and sheath my two trusty daggers and tighten a small coil of rope to my belt before snapping open my compact mirror.
Perusing my face one final time, I touch up my lips with red stain, then tuck the tube and mirror back in my hip pouch for later.
Red lips, heavy black-ringed eyes—I always feel better with my mask on. I never leave the ship without it.
“The area appears clear from my initial purview, but that doesn’t mean anything,” Weston warns.
“From what I’ve gleaned from Mr. Whicker, the real danger is around the forest. We’re only several miles away from it.
If you see or hear anything strange, head back to the ship immediately.
Everyone understand?” Weston looks at Tata, Mickie, and me.
“There are wild animals and, if the rumors on The Dreadnaut are true, aliens.”
“Understood,” I respond. “Don’t be seen and avoid contact with others. Normal reconnaissance mission, got it.”
Weston turns his tired gaze to me. “I already lost one friend today, Sabrina. I don’t want to lose another. Nobody takes any chances, okay?”
“Yes, boss,” Mickie says, shooting me a look. “We hear you.”
I sigh and nod. “I’ll be safe.”
Weston’s eyes trail over all of us. “We meet back here in an hour. Sabrina and I will head north. Mickie, Tata, you two will head east.”
He opens the side door hatch and takes the first step out, shielding his eyes from the bright sunlight.
When it’s my turn, I do the same, warding my eyes quickly as they water from the intense, unfamiliar brightness.
Once we’re all out, we gather, blinking and wiping collectively until we can all see again.
Luckily, my makeup is waterproof, but I dab gently regardless.
“Remember, it’s not only the wildlife and atmosphere that can be dangerous.
Don’t forget what happened on The Dreadnaut.
If you see another human, approach them with caution and consider them a threat until proven otherwise,” Weston says as he starts climbing over a pile of rocks toward the first building on our right.
Mickie and Tata head to the front of the ship and move out of sight while I follow Weston over the rocks, catching up to him after a few wobbly moments. Most of the stones beneath my boots crumble when I step on them, and the handholds I can find aren't much better.
All around us, everything is falling apart.
Piles of both wreckage and garbage are scattered in and around what remains of the buildings, some only giant mounds of rubbish themselves.
But it’s their heights that get to me. I’ve looked up the atriums of three of the universe’s largest colony ships, but some of these buildings seemed to go much, much higher.
And to see a bright blue sky beyond them is as unsettling as it is cool. There were screens of blue skies on some of the newer spacecrafts, but they didn’t hold a candle to the real deal.
“Careful of the glass. It’s hiding under the dust,” Weston calls over his shoulder, kicking some of the dirt up with his boot.
“If people can come back and live here again, we might want to consider staying,” I suggest casually to him, kicking some of the dirt up myself. “I wouldn’t mind all of this compared to another broken-down ship kingdom.”
Because that’s what they were, little kingdoms, each colony ship its own realm in the guise of a confederate. The Dreadnaut was no worse than any other, really, nor had it been the first to implode on itself because of greedy, incompetent leadership. It wasn’t going to be the last.
But a world is different. A whole world with an atmosphere designed specially for humans… The possibilities here… It’s crazy to think about.
“Are you thinking about settling?” he teases, glancing at me. “Never expected that from you, Sabrina.”
I shrug. “I’m only saying, if the cat’s out of the bag and Earth’s habitability gets out to the rest of the universe… We might have an advantage already being here. We could stake out a good place and make it our own. We could have a real home.”
“Oh, so now you want Annora’s job?”
“I’m just saying…” I grumble.
“I get it,” Weston says. “I do. And I hope it’s all true, that a lot of us humans come back…
but life never works out as simply as that.
We barely escaped from a rebellion and a nuclear explosion, and it’s a damn miracle our ship can still fly after all she’s been through.
As for the rest? We’ve both listened to the radio.
Let’s see what we can scavenge to barter with first—”
“We should help the others,” I argue for the second time, the first being last night when we all gathered to watch the sunset. In awe of the beauty, we discussed our plans for today. Everyone had an opinion. And no one’s keen to jump on mine. No one’s willing to put much hope into anything.
I get it. After hearing so much begging on the radio, I’m worried about what’s going on like they are.
I completely understand why my crewmates want to stick to the immediate crisis rather than thinking toward the future.
Still, I don’t understand why planning is harped on so much.
I never thought I’d end up on Earth, though now that I’m here…
We have resources and skills between us. We have a moderate amount of supplies—though our food stores are dwindling. We could go to the forest, offer our help, and establish something better than what we’ve got going on now. We could make allies. Build a real life.
Working odd jobs for rich criminals isn’t something I want to do forever.
I’m grateful Annora had Weston land the ship here, but it’s still more of the same old strategy.
We always stay out of what’s happening. It’s what we’ve been doing since we started up this enterprise.
It’s what we did when The Dreadnaut’s rebellion began: just waited and listened, bided our time, until it was almost too late for us to act.
Despite people dying, or going missing. Despite the lights flickering.
Despite the ports being shut down—the rumors about an alien from Earth being on board…
Weston ordered us to butt out—attributing the actions of The Dreadnaut’s Supreme Captain to some sort of psychosis, claiming he'd snap out of it or be deposed before shit hit the fan.
“It’s none of our business.”
Well, looking around me, I’m beginning to think it should be.
“Help who? Those in the forest? With what? Don’t be ridiculous.” He waves his hand. “We’ve already gone over this. If we head over there before we’re prepared, we could be putting ourselves and our ship at risk. Our job is to transport or procure, nothing more, nothing less.”
“I wonder what Blat would say to that,” I mumble, unable to stop myself from poking the fire.
“Don’t start, Sabs,” Weston snaps. “I’m going to check and see if there’s a way into this building.
You go down the street and search through the piles.
Another word about going to the forest now and risking everything—don’t expect a spot to remain open for you on my ship.
Don’t push me, not right now.” He storms away and ducks under a large slab of stone, out of sight.
I run my tongue along my teeth and watch him flee from me.
The problem with me? I like my freedom a little too much. And I might have a small problem with authority. Weston was already threatening to fire me before this. He threatens to fire me monthly; he’s just never actually done the deed.
He’s not wrong.
I know I have a rebellious nature. It’s why I’ve never been able to hold down any other gig.
Weston is more patient with me than most captains I’ve met, and I’ve met many.
He understands my inability to always take directions, and I also understand, deep down, how important it is to listen to those directions.
But I think he’s wrong about ignoring what’s happening to other people because he thinks we’re separated from it.
How many years have to go by for him to feel a part of something?
And unlike me, he didn’t see the naga with his own eyes.
For as long as I live, I’ll never forget it. I was fighting my way through the crowd to catch up to Tata when the naga slid right past me. He didn’t see me, had no clue I was there. He didn’t seem to care at all about the people gasping and gaping at him. I remember it like it was yesterday.
Sirens in my ears, smoke blurring my vision, I was surrounded by people running everywhere, trying to reach their ships, when he appeared from under a nearby vessel to chase down a woman in a blood-splattered lab coat and brutally kill her. Powerful, breathtaking, terrifying.
I don’t know why he went after her in particular and no one else, but once she was dead, he slipped back the way he came. I watched as he joined a different bloody woman, one holding a baby in her arms, and carried them away. I don’t know what happened to them, but… I hope they made it out alive.
As far as I know, only I saw it.
Weston and the crew hadn’t cared when I told them.
They were too focused on getting off The Dreadnaut before the ports were retaken again.
Which was fair, honestly. We barely escaped, flying with a few dozen others to an outer port meant for incoming shipments.
Already, hundreds of ships had gathered with the same idea, and the port was beyond full. If we’d been any later…
I don’t know. Maybe Weston’s right. Maybe it’s better we take it one day at a time and stay out of the chaos.
Kicking the dirt to the broken glass beneath, I look down the path and at the buildings on either side of me, noting the strange difference in their appearance. One was built from a small reddish stone; the other a larger gray kind.
I roll my palm over the butts of my knives, scoping for something, anything among the rubble that might be worth something.
It’s not like any of us even knew Earth was safe to begin with. The leadership of The Dreadnaut had kept that fact from everybody. Of course they did. Everyone would want a piece of it.
Walking along, I rake my eyes over the broken piles, having to climb over and around a few. I pick up and wipe off a few colorful but dirty objects, though find nothing of immediate, substantial value.
Yes, anything from Earth is valuable, considering the rarity. It’s been practically impossible to get down here since the Lurkers destroyed it. But no one is looking for ancient plastic plates right now.
Something flies by my head, and I swat at it, catching a glimpse of a small bug with shiny wings. When it flies off without attacking me, I continue with more caution, glancing over my shoulder at the path I’ve taken, making sure I can still glimpse The Wreck in the distance.
Coming upon a broken staircase that leads into the ground, I peer into the large shadowy entrance. Partway down, there’s a landing covered with dirt and debris. From there, the staircase turns a corner and I can see no farther.
I walk to the side to peer deeper in, fishing out a small flashlight from my pack and turning it on. Beaming the light down the wide set of stairs, I notice a row of rounded metal bars and several spread-out piles of human bones and remains.
Suddenly I hear a rumbling noise, coming from far off. I pause, listening.
As the sound gets closer, I can tell it’s coming from above, and I look up to see a large ship fly overhead, heading toward the forest. It doesn’t seem to notice The Wreck, thankfully. Once it’s gone, I turn back to the stairs.
Testing the first step with my boot, I carefully descend into the subterranean tunnel, hoping there will be more that’s survived down here than above.
At the bottom of the staircase, I slowly swing my flashlight, and various piles of debris appear.
Along the walls on either side, I can make out several other entrances, tunnels that lead who knows where.
I gather some dirty jewelry and metal baubles left around the bones and put them in my hip pack, nudging through the dust for anything I might have missed. Human remains—especially bones—don’t scare me. Seeing a dead body is one of my first memories.
When I hear the incoming sounds of another spaceship, I sigh and turn for the stairs, figuring I should make my way back to the others.
Though as I pivot, my light catches something fuzzy and greenish on the walls of the deep tracks below.
Pausing my beam, I take a few hesitant steps nearer, curious.
A crack in the ceiling shines sunlight down in the middle of the wall fuzz, seeming to deepen the shadows of the tunnel on either side even as it illuminates the immediate vicinity.
Jumping down onto the tracks, I walk down the tunnel to my left, slowly realizing what I’m looking at as I get closer.
Lichen. It’s all over the walls, ceiling, and ground.
I reach out to touch it, awed by the resourceful little plant, capable of thriving in the strangest places.
Distracted, I only notice the sound of the spaceship passing overhead when it gets so loud it blocks out everything else. Glaring up at the sky through the crack, I cover my ears and furrow my brows against it.
Something shoots past my vision.
Startling, I jerk, dropping my flashlight to unsheathe my daggers.
Something else flashes to my left and, right as the spaceship flies out of earshot, I hear a loud hissing sound. Brandishing my blades, I back up into the lichen-covered wall. “Who’s there?”
There’s another flash to my right, deeper in the tunnel.
I twist in that direction. “Who are you?” I shout. “Answer me!”
The hissing grows louder, and thankful for the patch of sunlight, I snap my eyes back and forth, scanning the gloom all around. “Come out and face me!” I goad, swaying my knives in the air in preparation.
Suddenly there’s a whizzing noise directly beneath me, and I dart my eyes down to see what it is, only for another flicker of movement to catch my eye, this one to my left again.
Something comes streaking toward me out of the darkness—I spin and drop to the floor, but my dodge is a little too late and I take a shocking blow to the back of my skull.
Lurching, pain erupts through me as my head is forced forward.
Without another thought, I crash face first into the ground, and everything goes black.