Breaking Ranks

Samantha: Death to Regulation Breakers

Could be a band of refugees, I thought, churned up by the constant wars I knew were going on. And isn't that a sort of family? But I bit my lip and said nothing. Some of the kids were sobbing beside me and I shifted my feet. I wasn't exactly the compassionate sort even at the best of times but this wasn't what I had in mind when I signed up for the Seraphim.

"Squad, turn your low-level lights on," the sergeant said. With a quiet click the area around him was bathed in a dull red light, enough to provide illumination to the passengers but not enough to interfere with our night vision. Twigs snapped as the rest of the unit approached.

"Sara, see to the children."

I acknowledged my reply, keeping my own thoughts to myself, as I slung my rifle on my back. I flicked my own lights on and drew my sidearm, prodding the nearest kid with my foot.

But really, hundreds of years after leaving Earth and women are still sent to look after kids? I signed up to fight—and to fight bandits and raiders, not refugees huddling together around a little fire at night. Well, I was the rookie of the squad after all, and I lost no time in separating out the children from the rest.

"Over there. You and you," I said, gesturing with my pistol. "Now."

They moved over in a hustle, now separated from the adults, one of whom was screaming about something. I gritted my teeth, and perhaps for the first time, I felt a little inkling of doubt in my mind. Doubt that should have been there a long time ago.

"Hush, now," I said to them, somewhere between the command voice I'd been trained to use and the motherly one I'd heard used by others. It didn't come out right at all. I cleared my throat, mixing with the static of my suit's outer speakers to provide a not particularly reassuring grumble.

"Don't worry, Kat," one girl whispered to another, so quietly that I wouldn't have heard without my suit's enhanced sensory equipment. "The bad men will be gone soon. Just like in the village."

I kept silent, pistol drawn on the huddled children. Though what was I going to do if they ran, anyway? Shoot them?

The fuck with that, I decided in an instant.

"Shall we crucify them, sergeant?" Kaltran asked in a casual tone as he strode close.

I gritted my teeth, feeling like I hadn't heard him correctly. But what did I expect? I'd always known Regulation breakers would die like that. The safety of the Tranquility took priority above all else I'd just never

"No, it's dark and we should get this over with. Henderson, Kaltran, bring the adults over. I'll do the honors."

The adults were dragged away, some resisting, some not, but it made little difference. My squadmates just kicked and shoved them into motion. A few of the adults called out to the children, and some of the kids began to cry again, and I couldn't get them to shut up no matter what I did.

They settled down a bit, at least, and hardly even seemed to react to the first gunshot.

"Don't worry, Sara," Potter said unexpectedly on a private channel. "They're not going to execute the children."

I stayed silent, unsure what to say for a moment. The professional in me resented showing any sign of weakness. But... I licked my lips.

"That's good to know," I grunted, as the second gunshot rang out. I tilted my helmet to look at him. "Why are you telling me this?"

"I could tell it bothered you."

I didn't like that one bit. "Don't you have anything better to do?" I snapped, angry at being a part of this, angry at joining Bridge Security to stop raiders and now finding myself wielding a pistol at children. And now growing increasingly angry at Potter for being a creep.

He was silent at least, though the gunshots weren't, and the children rustled in nervousness.

"What's going on?" a boy whispered, to no reply.

"Oh, he's making a break for it!" Sergeant Gunnarson said over the comm, with a touch of amusement. A burst of gunfire rang out. "Didn't do much good." A couple more gunshots sounded and a silence fell in the night.

"Death to Regulation breakers," Kaltran intoned after a moment, in a hushed and almost reverential tone.

"Death to Regulation breakers," the sergeant echoed, walking back toward us.

"Death to Regulation breakers," Henderson said, picking up and examining the fallen hatchet.

"Death to Regulation breakers," Potter said matter-of-factly.

"Death to Regulation breakers," I said, cold and clinical, holstering my pistol. No matter how I looked at it, they just didn't seem like criminals worth killing. The passengers were just ignorant, but we keep them that way on purpose. They know unregulated fires are prohibited but it isn't like they understand why.

"Well, there's no reason to stick around here," Sergeant Gunnarson said, pinging a location on our HUD that wasn't far away. "We've made the Mission Commander's presence felt and we can watch the siege from above. Move out while I scare the kids."

I stepped away, falling in with the others, feeling numb. It seemed this was my new normal. Well, it was what I wanted, I suppose. It wasn't like repelling the stimjacker assaults in the upperdecks had been like the recruitment posters either.

"This is what happens when you break Regulations!" Sergeant Gunnarson boomed out, his outer speakers increased to maximum. "We are the Seraphim! We swoop down from above and carry out the righteous punishment of the Twelve and the Mission Commander himself. You do not want to anger them. This is your last warning... your only warning. Never. Break. Regulations."

Sergeant Gunnarson turned on his heels and strode away from the sobbing orphans.

"Are we going to leave them, Sergeant?" I asked after a moment.

"Yes," he replied without hesitation.

To my lasting shame, I said nothing further, and in the time since then I've often wondered whether I should have. In any event, we were soon too far away to hear their cries, Kaltran and Henderson chatting about the results of Wrecker games they'd missed while in the field. And so we made our beds for the night, although tonight I found that I could not sleep, and simply stared up at the distant ceiling above.