THE
PEACEKEEPER AND THE WARMONGER
Compendium 2020 – Story 5
By Andrew Hawnt
“Come
on, get on board,” Alix said, reaching out her hand. “Put that
gun down and get in here. That sun will kill you in a day otherwise.”
“And
what about you?” came the synthesised voice behind the helmet of
the Strurian soldier. “Will you kill me faster than the sun will?”
Alix
sighed, her hand falling to her side in a fist. She reached for the
panel that would close the hatch of her modest ship. “I can leave
you out here if you prefer.”
The
Strurian looked around. No shelter. No food or water. The wreck of
his own ship was three clicks way and was little more than a frame
after the crash. He hesitated and lowered the barrel of his weapon.
“That's
it. Disengage the pulse cell and show it to me, then get in here
before you fry.”
The
solder quickly removed the cell from his weapon, rendering it
useless. He held it up before the human and then shoved it into a
pouch on his heavy uniform.
“Come
on,” Alix said with some urgency. “My engines are messed up so we
can't leave the atmosphere, but I can move the ship a little and
there's food and drink.
“Do
you intend to take me prisoner?”
“No.
I just don't want to die alone. Now either get on this ship right now
or I'll have to shut the hatch.
The
Strurian climbed onto the ramp and into the ship. Alix swiped at the
panel, and the hatch closed. “I'm Alix, she said as it did.
“Oliver,”
said the voice from the helmet.
An
hour passed in relative quiet. Oliver removed his helmet, revealing
the stern, scarred face of the elite Strurian trooper that he was.
However, once he had removed the helmet he seemed calmer. More human.
Alix brought him a ration box and a canteen of freshly generated
water. The soldier took it with a nod and ate in silence.
Alix
had sat back in the pilot's chair and had set her damaged ship on a
slow speed over the endless dusty rocks of Garina, where their ships
had tumbled onto in the final moments of the battle that had raged
amongst the distant stars.
“Why
are you doing this?” Oliver asked eventually. “You lost the war.
There's nothing for you to gain by saving me.”
Alix
set the controls to auto and span in her chair to face the soldier
sat against the wall nearby.
“If
I was up to anything I would have taken that cell out of your
fatigues, but I know you won't kill me as you need my ship if you're
going to get home.”
“Your
people have been decimated by Strurian forces. It is the will of the
people, the way of the Strurian offshoot of humanity, that we need
nobody but ourselves. No alliances with outsiders.”
Alix
stood and stepped over to the solder. She wasn't physically strong or
particularly tall, but her demeanour more than made up for that.
“Where did your medical science come from? Where are your doctors
from? Where are your weapons and ships and uniforms made? They come
from across the alliance. If Struria wants independence, it should
have focussed on its own industries and people instead of bickering
with those who were helping it.”
Oliver
grinned and felt for the cell in his fatigues. “We won. We declared
independence from the alliance and severed our ties in the greatest
fashion – by war.”
“And
where has that war got you, Oliver? Getting a free ride in the ship
of an Earther. Working together for the benefit of the many. Not just
the self.”
The
Strurian soldier stood suddenly, lashing out at Alix. “Struria
needs nobody! Least of all a wretch like you!”
He
caught her with a heavy blow to the stomach, slamming her against the
bulkhead of her ship. The craft lurched and righted itself,
continuing on the pattern of movements Alix had set it on. Winded,
she grabbed a fire extinguisher cylinder from beside the control
array and swung it at Oliver's face. It caught him across the jaw,
knocking him out cold.
Water
splashed over his face, waking him violently He couldn't move. He
looked down and saw the thick cables that had been dragged around
him, trapping him against a support column at the back of the ship.
Alix
stood over him, his own weapon in her hands. The power cell glowed
and hummed in its casing at the base of the rifle.
“Do
it,” he snarled from his makeshift prison. “Go on, satisfy your
petty need for vengeance. You lost. Your alliance has no power over
my people any more. You lost. Get over it.”
“Harina.
Spelian. Trassin. Hodrocoxin. Tyratrine. Heard of them?”
Oliver's
face clouded. He had indeed. “The chemicals that adjust our bodies
to the Strurian atmosphere.”
“That's
the ones. On the last recon mission before this horrible war
escalated – because of your stupid lot, I might add – we found
something out about those. Do you want to hear it?”
“Enlighten
me,” Oliver said.
“We're
both probably going to die here, so what the Hell? Those chemicals?
We found proof that your government was buying them from us. All of
them. They can't be synthesised on Struria because of some particle
or other in the air. You won the war and claimed your independence,
but at what cost? Right now as we're sat rotting here on a dustball
of a rock, the announcement is being made. Your gained your freedom
from the alliance, Oliver, but you also lost everything that keeps
you alive. Your people are going to die within a year.”
“Lies.
Fearmongering.”
“The
alliance was formed so that we could all work together. Yes, that
meant there would be differences of opinion, but the galaxy gained
universal rights amongst its peoples. Access to medicines. Knowledge.
Assistance. Trade. Expertise. By fighting your pointless war against
the people of the alliance, you have severed all ties with it.”
“We've
lived through worse.”
“No
you haven't, Oliver. Previous generations experienced hardships and
wars and where did it get them? Eventually worlds understood they
needed each other. Struria spent so long persuading its people that
the alliance council was trying to end their way of life that people
believed them. The votes were cast based on outright lies and
baseless paranoia. What your people have done is akin to mass
suicide.”
“Struria
will stand tall on its own,” Oliver yelled, fighting against his restraints.
“And I'll be there, looking down on you when you beg us for what we
can offer the alliance.”
Alix
laughed. “And what's that? Hatred, xenophobia and small-mindedness?
Man, if those are your major exports, you can damn well keep them.”
“I
will stand tall without any help from you or your fearmongers.”
Alix
smirked. “Yeah, you will. And it's not fear we spread. It's
caution.”
She
struck him in the temple with the butt of his own rifle.
The
roar of unfamiliar engines woke him, and the blaze of the sun on his
skin instantly felt like being bathed in acid. He was free from the
cables, but a good half a mile from the Terran's ship.
Overhead,
the engines of a Terran medical transport blazed, lifting away from
the arid ground of Garina.
He
laughed and spat at the craft, then laughed more as he saw the marks
Alix's ship had left all around them. The pattern of her ship's
movements had left a gigantic message burned into the dry ground.
S.O.S.
38720XX
A
call for help. Her military reg.
He
scrabbled back to the abandoned ship, and found why it had been left
behind.
Tools, engine parts and fresh rations had been piled up, filling half the ship. A note was
affixed to them.
Everyone
loses in war. Here's a chance for you to win on your own terms. See
if you can get back to the alliance before the rest of your people. Ask nicely when you get there. Good luck. - A
Oliver
ripped the paper to shreds, screaming. He strode to the edge of the
hatch and watched the transport vanish through the atmosphere.
Eventually
he closed the hatch and sat amongst the gifts from his enemies. He
thought long and hard. He toyed with the rifle in his mouth. He ate
rations and stared at systems that could take him home. Whatever
would be left of it by the time he was in space again.
Oliver
reached for a toolbox and sighed.
Victory
and winning are not the same thing.
===
©
Andrew Hawnt 2020
About
Compendium 2020:
Compendium
2020 is a project from author Andrew Hawnt and consists of 52 weekly
stories encompassing science fiction, fantasy and horror. They are a
mix of short stories and flash fiction, 100% original and written
throughout 2020. Why is he doing this? To keep the words flowing. To
keep the ideas coming. To dance in worlds that are his and his alone.
To prove that he can.
About
Andrew Hawnt:
You
can find Andrew on Facebook at facebook.com/andrewhawntauthor and on
Twitter and Instagram as @andrewhawnt. Formerly a musician and DJ,
Andrew is known for his books, comic book writing, music journalism
and more, including fiction in Doctor Who Adventures, the Judge Dredd
Megazine and others. Look out for his film work soon.
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