Sway's Demise (4 page)

“Japan deployed the units in the S.E. Asian civilian areas, against the requests of the United States and Canada, who were nearly out of resources to combat the enemy at their door. The Priyon army was resilient, but not enough. The M.I.U.s pushed them farther and farther to the coast of the South China Sea, where a second Priyon colony ship was discovered!” She gasped at him, to which he was not amused.

Sway frowned, “If you don’t enjoy my story telling, maybe you should read it yourself.” Passing him the book his eyes bulged with fear.

“No, I love the way you tell it. It’s fine!” His wide grin was completely fake, and also completely adorable.

Sway’s heart melted, and she snuggled closer to him, pointing back to the text, “Ok, where was I. Second colony ship, yes. The Priyon were not as helpless as we thought, revealing their own host of aircrafts and watercrafts. They spread themselves thin to South Africa, Australia, Southeastern United States, and the Mediterranean.

“Japanese deployment forces could no longer keep up with the demand, enlisting many countries in assisting them. The lines between governments, military forces, and nationalities began blurring. We were humans, fighting an inhuman threat.”

Dymtre’s breathing was even, and a peek at his eyelids revealed they were completely shut. She looked on to the rest of the text.

The Priyon aircraft, though few, were devastating. They destroyed military bases all around the world, but by the time the human forces were subdued, the Priyon were decimated by the remaining M.I.U.s. Through the savagery of war, the M.I.U.s gained something unexpected: a consciousness, and a conscience.

All things came to a close very suddenly. Ambassadors visited the last remaining leaders of humanity, requesting a ceasefire. The M.I.U.s retreated to scattered parts of the world, many of them ashamed of their actions, or hating humans for forcing them to fight, abusing them like tools.

“And here we are today.” She whispered, closing the book and returning it to the makeshift window shelf. Rolling onto her stomach, she blew out the candle once again and flopped onto the pillow.

Second of Ka, the Eighty-fourth year of D’Mjak

I was wary to discuss until I was sure, but we’ve finally done it. This is our last push across the northern hemisphere, and the cities are falling with ease. Eighty of their planet cycles was apparently just enough to end their elders, the ones who remember the war, and make way for a generation which was not so paranoid.

My dreams persist. However, these days, I dream of Earth skies, not Arrodaunt. I’m wondering if it all means something. The prophecies never resonated with me, you know that, but we all dream of Earth now, all the battle commanders. At least, the ones who talk cordially with me. I’m curious if that’s why Plynk left. Dreams can be so vivid, even terrifying.

Do the Priyon dream as well, I wonder? I know, they’re said to be without thought, but what if they can? What if the dreams don’t come from the inside? What if this Paradise is trying to communicate with me?

I have a wandering mind of late. It must be why so many battle commanders were retired from Earth. I’m hoping the end of this war will be my retirement. We’ll see. I love you, and miss you. Please don’t forget me.

Chapter 3: Initiation

Dawn had not yet broken, and Sway woke to Isla at her bedside, whispering gently. “Get up, sweetie, you need to eat before you head out.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I know you are. I am too. I just,” she huffed, seeming to find it difficult to articulate, “I just don’t understand you.”

“Teenagers, they’ll kill you.” Sway grinned and Isla chuckled.

“I hope not. Come down for breakfast. I bartered for some sardines, your favorite.”

She was bribing Sway back into her favor, but she’d accept it. She hadn’t tasted sardines in nearly eighteen months, and missed those smoky, salty little buggers. The way the fish bones popped in her mouth was a special treat she relished, though she didn’t know why.

Isla turned as she reached the stairs, “Your shower is still waiting for you. I reheated the water though.” She was
really
bribing her.

Sway crept out of bed, careful not to rouse Dymtre. She had no intention of sharing any of the little fishies with him. He couldn’t possibly appreciate them with the palate of an eight-year-old.

The gray and blue Beacon suit was set out, along with a fresh towel. Her nerves surged as she looked at it. The same suit her mother had worn. The hole in the left shoulder had been patched, but the bloodstains couldn’t be lifted.

She pulled herself away, strapping the shower shoes to her feet to tromp out for her frigid sentence. Though the air around her raised goosebumps, the shower felt fantastic. She lathered the soap quickly, then shut off the nozzle, shivers increasing.

“Hurry, hurry,” she whispered into the early darkness. “Little fishies waiting to be devoured, and you only have a few hours. Don’t dally now, little,” she paused, “cow? Jeez, I’m bad at poetry.”

She gave her head one more good scrub, and turned the nozzle back on, rinsing clean. Drying with even more haste than she showered, she scrambled to get the Beacon suit on and escape the freezing morning. The damp towel didn’t do much to warm her head, but kept her soaking, long black hair out of her face and off her neck. With a brief moment to take it all in, she rubbed her finger over the patch on the breast of the suit.
S.Way - Initiate
. Soon it would say
Member
.

Stepping into the kitchen, Isla immediately pointed out at the shower, knowing Sway hadn’t dumped the runoff into the garden. She sighed, jogging back out.

They were lucky they had a very nice greenhouse. There were several winter squash, which were almost mature, and even more blackberries. It was a shame though, Sway thought, they had to give almost their entire haul to the community storage, but that’s how the community continued to work. They all sacrificed for each other.

Sway’s family did get to keep all of the herbs they grew, but Isla unfortunately used them for medicine. Her cooking could really benefit from the extra flavor. Yarrow wasn’t very tasty, Sway knew from an awful curious venture, but she would kill for some of the ginger and cayenne pepper.

By the time she made it back in, her little snot of a brother was about to bite down on one of her precious fish. She snatched the plate from his hand, declaring, “Mine.”

“Isla!”

With a mouth full of fish, she pointed at the one in his hand, “Ou take a bide first, an if ou like it, I give ou one.”

He shoved the whole sardine in his mouth and chomped down three times. On the fourth chomp, his brow pushed together, creases forming at the edges of his lips.

“Don’t you dare spit that out.” Sway glared at him as he raised his hand to his mouth.

Isla brought a hard boiled egg to the table along with two carrots and a handful of raspberries, echoing Sway’s warning, “Swallow it, Dmytre. It’s good for you. Lots of calcium for strong bones.”

He gulped hard, then grabbed a fistful of raspberries. “You can have those nasty things. I get your egg.”

“Oh yeah, and you have a really tough day ahead of you?” She plopped down onto her chair.

“Not today, but one day. I need to grow big and strong so I can join Beacon, just like you.”

She messed his hair as he beamed at her with affinity, and she stuffed the second to last fish in her mouth. “Keep dreamin’, kid.”

She passed the plate to Isla. “Thanks, gotta go!”

Sway’s clean boots sat next to the door, yet another bribe, and she smirked.

“Thanks again.” She laced them up, fingers trembling with anticipation, and tossed the damp towel onto the coat rack.

“Forgetting anything?” Isla stopped her at the door.

She patted her suit down, feeling the exact-o knife she needed to return, the standard issue blade at her hip, the initiate badge pinned to her shirt, and said, “I don’t think so?”

Isla flung her arms around Sway, kissing her cheek, “You’ll do great.”

“I know.” Sway patted Isla’s back and she released her, tears forming in her eyes.

“I’m so proud of you. You may not be blood, but you are my daughter.” Sway nodded, a lump growing in her throat. Would her own mother have said goodbye to her at the door with tears in her eyes? Would she have been proud, and smiling? Sway would never know.

She smiled, “I love you too, Isla.”

“Good luck!” Dmytre flapped his hand from the table, crunching down on a carrot. Sway waved back and closed the door behind her. The street was empty and calm in the early morning. Sunlight was beginning to peek over the houses, and she realized she was going to be late! With a spring in her step from the delicious breakfast, she set off at a run.

Stopping first at the craft storage closet, she found paper clips on the table suitable for picking the lock. It opened after a few moments of flustering and fiddling, and she returned the exact-o knife to the shelf.

Back on course for the training facility, she tried not to let nerves get the best of her, mostly to keep the fish down. There was no way she was going to waste such an expensive treat by vomiting from worry.

The morning was, once again, dry, and the resident hunters were up early, smoking some kind of meat. Her mouth salivated at the thought of Woodland Caribou Stew, though she was already full from the fish. Just thinking of a big bowl full of potatoes, carrots, and caribou, with a fresh slice of bread slathered in creamy butter brought a pang of hunger she knew didn’t exist.

Quickening her pace, she returned focus to the day’s undertaking. The other six initiates were filing onto the retired soccer field when she arrived. With a hop and a skip she merged seamlessly in line with them, right behind Reese.

“Cutting it a bit close?” He whispered as they marched to attention.

Smirking, she whispered back, “I like to be prompt.”

“Initiates!” The cell leader, Xander Blake, addressed them and they snapped into a salute. He was a burly, twenty-something with a close-shaved head, offset strikingly by dark brown eyebrows and gold eyes. He waited for the murmuring of the crowd to die out. “Are you ready for what’s to come?”

“Sir, yes sir!”

He paced. “You’re not ready. Look at you all, just children.” He pushed Leandra, the oldest of the cell, and she stumbled, but returned to attention.

“You’re scrawny.” Moving on, he gripped Eli’s bicep and shoved him menacingly. Eli faltered as well, but returned to his position, towering over Xander by several inches.

“You’re weak!” He poked the hilt of his Bowie knife into Reese’s stomach, who grunted in pain, but stood upright still.

Then, he stopped in front of Sway, and her heart beat with fury.

“You’re naive.”

She straightened with a gulp.

“How can I teach you?” Xander’s gaze bore into her, and a cold sweat gathered in her palms, “Initiate Way, how can I teach you?”

“Sir, you can only instruct us as you’ve been instructed, tell us of your experience. It’s our responsibility to learn, and adapt, sir!”

“You think if I tell you how I almost lost my hand, you could learn how not to?” He showed off the missing pinky on his left hand. “You think if I instruct you how to survive alone in the forest, stranded from your cell for a week, you could do it?” He pushed her shoulder and she stepped back to gain balance, then returned to her stiff pose. “Do you?”

“Sir, I do, sir!”

He leered, stepping back. “Sway’s got balls. Who else here has balls?”

“Sir, I do, sir!” They all shouted.

“Balls won’t save you! Brains will!” He screamed and they all grit their teeth, wishing they’d said nothing at all. They knew to expect that kind of talk, but it didn’t make it any less intimidating.

“I need you to be smart initiates. Can you be smart?”

“Sir, yes sir!”

“No, you can’t!” He pushed Richard, an average sized young man with black curly hair.

“Sir, yes I can, sir!” Richard retorted, his brow knit tightly in frustration.

Xander laughed, and Sway knew what Richard said was wrong.

Taking a deep breath, she swallowed her nerves, “Sir, I
am
, sir!”

Xander marched to her with a look to kill. “You are what? About to get your ass beat? That sounds right!” He raised his hand as if to strike her, but she refused to flinch. If he hit her and she didn’t move, was it her stupidity to not protect herself, or did it show devotion to allow the cell leader to punish her? She wasn’t sure of the correct course of action, but was relieved when he didn’t strike.

“No, you’re not ready.” He turned his back to them.

Frederick, a similarly burly man with a shaved head and glasses, began the chant, “Gone are the lives of so many.” The cell joined their second lieutenant, “Brothers, sisters, fathers, mothers, children, and lovers. In their sacrifice, we live on.” The silent crowd behind them erupted in pride. “No matter the foe, we are prepared. We are the light in a great expanse of darkness. We are the first warning, the protector at the gate, the savior in the night. We are Beacon.”

The field was silent as the dead, clouds passing in front of the early sun. Was he considering pulling them from initiation? Her thoughts circled on the only fear; they could not be part of Beacon. Xander paced, looking to the men and women behind as they judged the initiate cell.

Everyone would cast a vote. Xander pointed to Fabel, and the rustling of paper could be heard in the crowd. They each held a red and a green card. Green would grant entry, the other, well, it wasn’t hard to put two and two together.

He moved on, pointing to Richard. If they were not accepted with their training cell, they would have to wait another year to join the next. Then they would spend two more years with that cell, and undergo the process again.

It was rare for only one, or two members to not make it. Usually, an entire training group would be failed to keep them together.
But it could happen
, Sway thought with a hollow sensation in her stomach,
I could be separated.

He pointed to Reese, and her throat dried. It was her turn, and she held her eyes shut, breathing calmly.
Everything will be fine
, she assured herself,
we’re all getting in
.

“Abel, Frederick!” Sway’s heart skipped, “Approach your cell leader!” Xander stood next to the table that held their mismatched training weapons, the ones they’d been carrying through the mud, the rain, the heat, and the freezing cold for the past two years.

Xander held the weapon out to him, “If you take this weapon, you are subscribing yourself to a world of discomfort, pain, hunger, and sleeplessness for the rest of your life. Are you ready to accept that?”

“Sir, yes sir! I live and die by this cell, Beacon, and our community, sir!” He gripped the weapon in both hands.

Xander released it. “Stand behind me, brother.”

“Brown, Richard! Approach your cell leader!”

Her stomach turned again. What if he didn’t call her to retrieve her weapon?

“Hale, Leandra!”

What if he ridiculed her instead?

“Mason, Eli!”

What if she was separated from her cell forever?

“River, Delilah!”

Who would they replace her with?

“Tanner, Reese!”

Who would
he
replace her with?

“Way, Sarah! Approach your cell leader!” She stepped to him, fear peaking as her stomach roiled. Swallowing hard, she dug her nails into each palm.

Xander held out her weapon, a battered M4 with the orange ribbon Sway’s mother would wear in her hair tied to the stock. “If you take this weapon, you are subscribing yourself to a world of discomfort, pain, hunger, and sleeplessness for the rest of your life. Are you ready to accept that?”

She’d been preparing for months. It was like wedding vows. They should be elegant, and inspiring, but as her voice trembled, she knew it sounded silly, “Sir, the air that fills my lungs gives my life no meaning if it’s not a life to serve this cell, Beacon, and my community. I’m ready, sir!”