Captain Cosette (2 page)

I’ll
never
kiss
him
.

I’ll
never
have
his
children
. 

She turned away from the cool water, from the other farm youth.  She grabbed her work dress and ran back towards her farm,
brushing tears from her eyes. 

She
ran into the field she had just harvested and collapsed among the remains, sobbing.  She was beyond thinking.  She couldn’t put into words what her pain was; all she knew was that she hurt.  Her body hurt and her heart hurt worse.

When she had exhausted her self-pity, she
wiped her eyes with the hem of her work dress.  Her mind vacant, she stood and slid the dress back on, then pushed her blonde hair into place with her fingers.  The pump provided cold water to wash her face, and she walked back to the house looking as though nothing had happened, as though her world was still intact.

Her stepfather’s quadrant was only half harvested.  He would make
her and Claude and Lucas finish it at the first light of dawn, so that the fruit would be ready for the buyer.  Out of pique, she ripped off a ripe fruit and dropped it into the pocket of her work dress.

She entered the side door, went to her room and changed, putting on her other set of clothes.  After the buyer took the fruit, she would ask
Auguste for money for new clothes, especially for a coat for winter.  He would grumble and complain, but after the buyer came he was usually in a more generous mood.

“
Is that you, Cosette?” she heard her stepfather call.

She
slipped the stolen fruit into her personal bag, and then entered the kitchen calmly and quietly.  A methane stove stood in the corner beside a worktable and a sturdy plastic sink.  Her stepfather sat at the table under the cheap photon tiles that lit the kitchen.  He wore his work clothes, with a sturdy pair of suspenders to keep his pants up on his belly.  He had grown heavy, and his hair that used to be black as night had become more salt than pepper.   

On the table in front of him lay
several legal-looking documents, which he studied through a battered pair of reading glasses.

“
Yes?” she said.

“
You finish your quadrant?”

She nodded.

He raised his eyebrows without looking at her.  “Really?  How about Lucas and Claude?”

“
They’re done.  They’re swimming.”

“
You didn’t go?”

“
I didn’t feel like it.”

He grunted.  He held up a piece of paper, high quality paper with official seals. 
“The Unionist party at the capitol is having problems with the Federalists again.”

She didn’t respond. 
The politics of Sorine didn’t interest her, didn’t affect her life.  Tomorrow she would wash clothes and prepare food, just as always. 

Gregory
kissed
the
girl
. 

She winced, and
took a deep breath.

“
This here,” he said, tapping the paper, “I got a couple days ago.  The Unionist government is drafting.  Looks like there might be more fighting.”

She didn’t comment.  He hadn’t asked her opinion.

Wouldn’t
it
be
nice
if
Lucas
got
drafted
? 
He’s
older
than
Claude
,
and
without
Lucas
,
Claude
couldn’t
tease
her
as
cruelly
.

Maybe
both
of
them
will
be
drafted
.

“
They’re taking the oldest of each family that has over two children, if they’re of age.  I sent back that we would do our duty.”  He laid the paper down on the table, took off his glasses, and looked up at her for the first time.  “Did you hear the van pull up a few minutes ago?”

She shook her head. 
“No, I was, um, washing.” 

What
did
that
mean
,
the
oldest
of
each
family
? 

“
There are two men sitting in the living room.  Off-worlders.”  He looked back at the paper.  “They’ve come to take you for training.  I said you’d be available around sundown.”

The second shock of the day was too much.  She grabbed a chair and sat down, almost falling to the floor. 
“Me?” 

“
Yes, you.  You’re the oldest.”

“
But I’m small, even for a girl I’m small….”

A smile played on his lips as he looked at her again. 
“Remember, the planetary council said you can’t legally discriminate between men and women.  You’re the one to go, you’re still the oldest.”

She squeezed her hands together, still trying to understand. 
“For how long?  When do I come back?  What…”

“
You don’t come back.  At least, this paper says not until the crisis is over, not until the fighting’s over, and it’s been going on as long as I can remember.”

“
But,” her voice seemed small, “what about my farm?”

“
My farm,” he said.  The smile remained on his face.  “It’s my farm, and it’s going to my sons when I die.”

“
Legally, it’s mine,” said Cosette, frightened that he might cane her again.  “I’m the oldest.”

“
If you’re a soldier, you don’t own anything.”  He shrugged.  “Maybe the fight will end.  Maybe you will come back.”  He waved the document at her.  “I wouldn’t count on it.”

“
But why offer me up to them?  You could have claimed I was unsuitable, that I’m not fit to be a soldier.”

“
You’re not fit to be a farmer, either.”  The cold smile vanished.  “We won’t miss you.  Those boys of mine can learn to do for themselves.”

“
But…”  She felt tears trying to fight their way out through the wall.  “Father Auguste, you didn’t need to offer me up.  Don’t you have any affection for me at all?”

He
waved away her question.  “If you’d been my own, or if you’d been the youngest, it would be different, but don’t take it so personally.  It’s a matter of property and business.  Now go grab your things.  The men are waiting.”

She put her face in her hands.  She had been born here.  She had been raised here. 
She knew all the people in the small village.  She had never traveled more than a day’s journey in her life, had only seen the spaceport once.  How could she leave?

The
girl
had
kissed
Gregory
and
he
had
kissed
her
back
. 

How could she stay?

Her legs trembled but she stood.  She went to her room and threw a few items into her bag, including a couple of romance novels she had borrowed and her dirty work dress.  Auguste watched, making sure that she took nothing of value, though there was nothing of value for her to take.

She
still had the fruit hidden in the bottom of the bag.  It was a very, very small victory, but she was taking it.

He led her into the living room. 

Two men with scowling faces stood there in black shirts and gray pants, with knives and pistols at their hips.  They were twins, each one with a pair of heavy gold earrings, and thick gold bracelets on their wrists.  Their hair was tied in back with red twine, and they wore black boots, scuffed and worn.

Cosette
’s head did not even come up to their shirt pockets.

“
This is her?” said one.

“
You’ve got to be kidding.  The Union can’t be that desperate.”

“
She is the oldest,” said Auguste, bowing respectfully as he handed over her papers.  “It is a great personal sacrifice to give up my eldest daughter.  Promise me you’ll keep her safe?”

“
She’s going to war, old man, you know that.”

Auguste
pressed his hand against his chest and looked pained.  “Her dead mother would weep in her grave if she knew it had come to this.  Will you not promise to keep her safe?”

“
Yeah, sure.  Safe.”

The other twin addressed
Cosette directly.  “What’s in your bag?”

She start
led.  She had been staring at them. They were not of her race, they were from another star, human, but separated by vast amounts of time and space.  The corners of their jaws were wider, their foreheads broader, and their eyebrows shaded their black eyes.  Their large rough hands reminded her of the roots of the ambrosia vines.  “My bag?  Um, just some personal items, books, and my other dress, my work dress.”

“
Leave the work dress.  They’ll give you a uniform.  You’ll just have to throw it out when you get there anyway.”

They looked down at her like they expected to be obeyed,
so she did obey.  She pulled the dirty work dress out, embarrassed by its sweaty condition, and tossed it towards the kitchen.

Let
one
of
my
stepbrothers
clean
it
. 
Or
burn
it
.

“
Hold out your arm.”  One of the twins drew a metal bracelet from a pouch and clicked it around her wrist.  He held up a silver rod.  “Now listen carefully.  If you walk away from this key, you’ll feel a tingle at ten meters, a shock at twenty, and at thirty you get electrocuted.  You touch the key, you get electrocuted.  It won’t kill you, but you won’t try it twice.  When we deliver you to the Union, and we get paid our bounty, it gets removed and they’re the only ones that can remove it.  Until then, you can’t run away.  Got it?”

S
he nodded her head.  The nightmare kept getting worse.

He
folded her papers and tucked them into a satchel.  “That’s it.  Say your goodbyes.”

Cosette
lowered her head and walked out the door.  Auguste had no goodbyes for her. 

A worn van stood in the dirt road, more of a trail than a road.  One of the twins tossed her bag in the back
seat and tilted his head to indicate that she should get in.  The turbine whined to life, and the van turned and headed down the trail.  She glanced back, one last look.  The porch was empty and the door to her childhood home was tightly closed.

She turned away.  Her face was impassive, her small bag clutched in her lap.  No tear ran down her cheek, no sound escaped her throat.

But behind her stone wall, a lost little girl huddled in the corner and sobbed.

Chapter Two

Toulouse was the capitol city of the planet Sorine, and the
spaceport was situated by the river that divided Toulouse in half.  Night had fallen; the city was a sea of lights that rivaled the sea of stars overhead.  Toulouse's beauty was marred by occasional sounds of gunfire, explosions, and the flickering crackle of a burning building.

In the foothills overlooking the city, a campfire blazed.  One of the twins, Imsami, danced around the fire with a torch in his hand, swirling it to watch the sparks.  The other, Rasora, sat beside
Cosette, clapping time with his hands.

“
Too peaceful!” shouted Imsami, thrusting his torch as though skewering an enemy.  “We should be down there in the fighting.”

“
For which side?” asked Rasora.

“
Doesn’t matter.”  Imsami stopped in front of Rasora, his chest heaving.  “Who cares which side?  We could pick up some unguarded valuables, maybe some gems.”  He extended his broad hand and spread his fingers, displaying several gaudy gold and silver rings.  “I could use some more.”

Rasora turned to
Cosette.  “Imsami’s the businessman.  I’m the philosopher.”

“
He’s the useless one,” said Imsami, returning to his dancing.  He leaped and turned, almost ballet-like in his moves, spinning to strike an imaginary foe.  “Can you believe he actually reads?  Poetry, no less.”

Cosette
didn’t respond to either of them.  She looked beyond the fire to the city of Toulouse spread out below.  Somewhere down there, when morning came, she would be delivered like a prisoner. 

She glanced at her bracelet which was tuned to the key. 

I
am
a
prisoner
. 

“
If you would read more poetry,” said Rasora to Imsami, “your soul would be at peace.” 

“
If I read more poetry, I would become a woman.”

Rasora growled. 
“Are you needing me to pound you into the ground again?”

“
Not tonight.”  Imsami dropped the torch into the fire.  “I’m restless.  I’m going down to Toulouse and have some fun.”

“
Go to bed.  Tomorrow, after we get our bounty, you can spend your half on wine, women, and a splitting headache.”

Imsami walked to the edge of the level area where they had parked their van for the evening. 
“Look.  Right there, just down the hill, stands the Lost Lady tavern.  I’ll join you in the morning, or you can come pick me up.”

“
You’re going down by yourself?”

“
One of us has to stay with the, ah, recruit.  Unless she would like to come down and have a good time with us?  What do you say, little maid?  A last fling before you enter your training?”

Cosette
looked down at her feet.  The last thing she wanted was to be around these men when they were drunk. 

“
I think that’s a no,” said Rasora. 

“
Raz, you’re carrying the key.  You could leave it in the van.  She can’t touch it, and she can’t walk away from it.  She’ll be here when we get back.”

“
No.  You know what happens when we go into a tavern together.”

Imsami grinned maniacally and pulled two knives from his waist. 
“You mean this?”

Rasora rose to his feet. 
“I don’t think you want to do that.”

“
No?”  Imsami flipped one knife and held it by the blade.  He drew the knife back, ready to throw.  “Prepare to die like a man!” 

What
madmen
am
I
with
? 
They
haven’t
even
been
drinking
and
they’re
going
to
fight
with
knives
? 

Rasora pulled a knife from his waist. 
“Anytime you want, Imsa!”

“
One, two, now!”  Imsami tossed his knife at Rasora. 

Rasora threw his knife at the same time. 

Each twin caught the knife thrown at him and tossed it back.  Imsami added the third knife, and suddenly the air seemed full of blades, flying, spinning, catching the flames of the fire as they flipped back and forth. 

Imsami cried,
“Up!”  Three blades became four as Rasora added one more from his belt, and now the knives flew up in the air, a rising and falling dance of bright edges. 

Cosette
’s mouth hung open with amazement.  Surely at any moment they would lose a finger, slice open a hand, miss a knife and have it pierce their hearts, but no, with practiced sureness the blades passed back and forth until by some silent signal each man caught and held a pair of knives. 

They turned their heads to her and raised their eyebrows. 

Cosette realized what they were expecting, and she applauded weakly.  “Bravo?”  She was at a loss for words.

Rasora slipped his knives back into his waistband and sat down beside her. 
“We can only do that when we’re sober but it sure clears a tavern.”

“
Gets us some free beer, sometimes.”  Imsami put his knives back and sucked on the tip of a finger.  “Shouldn’t do this by firelight.  Gets tricky.  Speaking of beer…”  He looked down at the Lost Lady again.  “I’m going down, Raz.  It’s been too long.”

“
Be careful, then.  Case it out first, circle it, get a booth, keep your back to the wall and your face to the door.  Stay away from the fire, your earrings gleam too much….”

“
Yes, mother.”

“
And don’t stay until morning.  And don’t come back singing and bragging; I’ll be sound asleep!”

“
Phagh!”  Imsami stalked off down the hill towards the tavern.

Rasora stared into the fire until the sounds of Imsami’s boots faded. 
“Sometimes,” he said, “I can’t believe we’re twins.”

Cosette
, reluctant to be drawn into conversation, only glanced at him.

“
I mean,” Rasora continued, “He’s impulsive.  Always pulling us into trouble.  He gets us out of trouble, too, don’t misunderstand, but he never stops to think.”

Cosette
looked back at the fire.  A log settled, sending up a shower of glowing sparks. 

“
Now, me,” he continued, “I like to think about things.  Why things are the way they are.  Why we are like we are.  How much wealth it takes to be happy.  Sensible things.”  He pulled a knife and sighted along the edge towards the fire.  “I enjoy reading.  Do you read?”

She nodded.

“I like philosophy, but it misses the mark so often.  What is happiness?  A good meal.  A good woman.  The heft of gold.  They look beyond the basics, these high thinkers, and miss the value of the simple pleasures of life.  Gold, for instance, is very rare in Sorine.  These,” he tapped his gold earrings, “are better than a bank account.  Bankers can steal, governments can confiscate, but,” he shook the gold bracelets on one wrist, “these can buy me a house, a woman, a servant, and a new van.”

Cosette
glanced at the worn van the twins drove, some of the panels damaged and torn. 

“
Oh, that.”  Rasora snorted.  “That’s me being economical.  When we retire, soon, we’ll have luxury, but now is our time to accumulate, to gather wealth for a long, rich retirement with a coin leftover for our cremation when we die.” 

He pushed the end of a long branch into the fire.  The twins hadn’t bothered to cut any wood; they just wandered the woods snapping branches or pulling over dead saplings. 
Cosette considered it a lazy fire, no true fire ring, just several long branches slowly fed into the flames.  Imsami in his dancing had to leap over the wood, something he had done with ease.

Rasora pulled a sharpening stone from his pack and began honing the edge of his knife. 
“So, you have brothers and sisters?”

Cosette
nodded, but she knew it would not be sufficient.  “Two step-brothers.”

“
Two younger step-brothers; your father said you were the oldest.  And the three of you didn’t get along at all.”

“
How do you know that?”

He laughed. 
“Siblings never get along.  Imsami and I were always fighting and yet never apart, if you can understand that.  Twins sense each other, you know.  I could never hide anything from him, especially anything I didn’t want to share.  And he could never keep a candy or a stolen purse from me.  One reason we always fought.”  He grew more serious.  “Your father wasn’t required to volunteer you.”  His voice bore an overtone of sarcasm on the word volunteer.  “The Union government isn’t drafting that aggressively yet.”

“
Father Auguste wanted me gone.”

“
Are you that badly behaved?”

“
No.”  She paused and frowned.  “It was about the inheritance.”

“
You mean you would inherit the farm, if you stayed there?”  He examined the edge of his knife again.  “At least he didn’t just make you disappear.”

“
Didn’t he?” 

“
Ah.”  He grinned, the firelight sparkling in his eyes.  “A sharp observation.  But you still breathe.  Where there is breath, there is always hope, a future…”  He rose, his face pensive.  “Trouble….there’s trouble….”  He slid the knife into the scabbard at his belt.

Cosette
glanced around.  “Trouble?”

Rasora’s eyes widened. 
“Imsami!”  He turned and charged towards the slope that led to the tavern.

Cosette
sat an instant longer. 

He
senses
his
brother
is
in
trouble
. 

She thought of the usual brawl that drunken men can get into, and
wondered whether a woman was involved, and then jumped to her feet with sudden realization. 

Rasora
carries
the
key
!

She raced after him.  If he got more than thirty meters from her, she would be electrocuted. 

She could hear him crashing through the underbrush in the dark.  There was no clear trail to the tavern, and Rasora was making his own.  She would have to follow as best she could.  “Slow down!” she cried.  “Wait for me!”  Already her wrist tingled as the key outdistanced her.

Rasora did not slow. 
“Imsami!” he cried, breaking branches in his headlong rush. 

Cosette
ran as fast as she could, but even on clear ground Rasora with his longer legs would be able to outrun her.  Here, the ground was uneven, and she stumbled, almost falling.

Her wrist started to burn. 

Faster
,
faster
!

She caught glimpses of the tavern now, light blazing from the windows, movement behind the glass, and the shouts of men fighting. 

Shots echoed.  Some weapon had been fired.  Rasora cried out, leaping a stone fence and rushing past parked vans and motorbikes. 

Cosette
screamed as lightning circled her wrist, burning her.  She staggered, hardly able to keep running and yet desperately aware that if she stopped, the burning would get worse.  She climbed the fence, falling on the other side, screaming with each breath.  She pulled herself to her feet and staggered across the parking lot.

The pain eased as she approached the Lucky Lady.  Rasora had stopped running.

Men were fleeing the building, some laughing, some cursing.  The pain from the bracelet ceased as she leaned against the brick wall of the tavern.

When the rush of escaping men ended, she walked into the tavern, holding her arm.  It no longer hurt but she couldn’t feel
her hand, couldn’t move her fingers.

On the floor, in front of a large fireplace, lay Imsami.  Rasora knelt over him, trying to staunch the blood from several wounds.

“Hang on, hang on,” he whispered, his hands pressing against injuries. 

A worried-looking man with bad teeth, whom
Cosette guessed might be the tavern owner, pressed bandages onto Imsami’s belly, but the shaded lights around the room revealed a widening pool of blood on the polished wooden floor.

Imsami raised his hand and feebly stroked Rasora’s cheek. 
“Should… have listened… sorry…”

“
Hush, hush,” said Rasora, “you’ll be fine, you’ll be….”

The
light faded from Imsami’s eyes.

Rasora patted his brother’s cheek. 
“Imsami?  Imsami?”  He shook his brother’s shoulders.  “Imsami!”