Alpha remarked without looking up. “And you’re late. Care to explain?”
Anderson swallowed. “We made it, Alpha,” he said hesitantly. “We made it. There’s a space station three days out. Real people. Energy stores. A planet below it, with Terran level gravity. A home.”
Alpha’s eyes—a cold gray, ever since that first black eye—glanced up once and then looked down. “You’re deluding yourself. This is home. False hope will kill you, Anderson. We’ve discussed this.”
Anderson swallowed. This was true, too, and as with so many other things, Anderson knew Alpha was right. But, as with so many other things, he knew that he was right too. “The sensors show it, plain as day. And it’s in the shuttle’s records and star charts, three different mentions. This is where the shuttle was programmed to go ten years ago, Alpha. This is it. We’ve reached our destination.”
Alpha nodded. He’d cropped his fashionably blown hair shortly after that first black eye, and it was now military short. Anderson had always wondered at the psychological implications of that, but he hadn’t wanted to ask. “Well then,” he said briskly, “what are you waiting for? Go cancel the holo-program.”
Anderson gasped as though he’d been slapped. “Are you insane ?”
“No. We’ve officially outlived our usefulness, Anderson. You’ve just come in to tell me that you don’t need me anymore. Go do it. Pull the plug. Kill us.”
“I can’t do that!” Anderson thought about his life without his family and fought valiantly not to throw up or pass out. Lose his family? Again? Impossible. “You asshole! How could you even suggest that?”
Alpha nodded and started to prowl aggressively around the room. “Yeah, I get it. I’m the asshole. That’s fine. I’m the one who made you fight for your survival. That makes me a bad person, and I can live with it. But in five minutes, I won’t have to. All you have to do is walk out this door, go up to the bridge, and kill us all.”
“I’m not going to do that!” Anderson protested, angry in a way he didn’t think he could ever be—hideously angry, a black rage falling over his skin like a spiked curtain, blood thundering in front of his eyes for a textured patina of red. “These people are my family . You don’t kill them just because they’ve outlived their usefulness!”
“Not even me, Anderson?” Alpha taunted. God, he was tall. He was a good six inches taller than Anderson and still muscular and strong. Anderson’s diet had been affected by the synthesizer rations—not as much protein, not as much vegetable matter, in spite of the biosphere—and he was underweight and fragile.
“Yes, you!” Anderson was shouting, even though Alpha was right up in his face, right in front of him, holding his shoulders in those hard, rough hands. “You’re my family. You’re a bastard and a son of a bitch, and I still love you, dammit! I’m not just going to kill you just because we’re almost to port!”
Alpha stopped that bone-jarring shaking and moved closer, smiling with that arrogant glint that had first made Anderson love him. God, he’d been so sure of himself, so in charge, and Anderson had been alone and making the decisions without guidance for so, so long.
“Yeah? Well, that probably means you still need me. Bully for me!”
Anderson flinched. He didn’t want it to be true. “You are a bully,” he whispered, and he was practically transcendent with joy when the expected blow to the face actually arrived.
“Yeah? Was that violent enough for you?”
Anderson closed his eyes. He deserved it. He deserved more. Disposing of people like they were tissue, choosing his own life over the collected lives of his colony, over their culture, over the proof of their existence. He deserved it. He deserved everything Alpha gave him.
But he’d proved today that he still wanted to live.
“That’s more than enough,” he whispered, his eyes closed, feeling
Anderson swallowed. “We made it, Alpha,” he said hesitantly. “We made it. There’s a space station three days out. Real people. Energy stores. A planet below it, with Terran level gravity. A home.”
Alpha’s eyes—a cold gray, ever since that first black eye—glanced up once and then looked down. “You’re deluding yourself. This is home. False hope will kill you, Anderson. We’ve discussed this.”
Anderson swallowed. This was true, too, and as with so many other things, Anderson knew Alpha was right. But, as with so many other things, he knew that he was right too. “The sensors show it, plain as day. And it’s in the shuttle’s records and star charts, three different mentions. This is where the shuttle was programmed to go ten years ago, Alpha. This is it. We’ve reached our destination.”
Alpha nodded. He’d cropped his fashionably blown hair shortly after that first black eye, and it was now military short. Anderson had always wondered at the psychological implications of that, but he hadn’t wanted to ask. “Well then,” he said briskly, “what are you waiting for? Go cancel the holo-program.”
Anderson gasped as though he’d been slapped. “Are you insane ?”
“No. We’ve officially outlived our usefulness, Anderson. You’ve just come in to tell me that you don’t need me anymore. Go do it. Pull the plug. Kill us.”
“I can’t do that!” Anderson thought about his life without his family and fought valiantly not to throw up or pass out. Lose his family? Again? Impossible. “You asshole! How could you even suggest that?”
Alpha nodded and started to prowl aggressively around the room. “Yeah, I get it. I’m the asshole. That’s fine. I’m the one who made you fight for your survival. That makes me a bad person, and I can live with it. But in five minutes, I won’t have to. All you have to do is walk out this door, go up to the bridge, and kill us all.”
“I’m not going to do that!” Anderson protested, angry in a way he didn’t think he could ever be—hideously angry, a black rage falling over his skin like a spiked curtain, blood thundering in front of his eyes for a textured patina of red. “These people are my family . You don’t kill them just because they’ve outlived their usefulness!”
“Not even me, Anderson?” Alpha taunted. God, he was tall. He was a good six inches taller than Anderson and still muscular and strong. Anderson’s diet had been affected by the synthesizer rations—not as much protein, not as much vegetable matter, in spite of the biosphere—and he was underweight and fragile.
“Yes, you!” Anderson was shouting, even though Alpha was right up in his face, right in front of him, holding his shoulders in those hard, rough hands. “You’re my family. You’re a bastard and a son of a bitch, and I still love you, dammit! I’m not just going to kill you just because we’re almost to port!”
Alpha stopped that bone-jarring shaking and moved closer, smiling with that arrogant glint that had first made Anderson love him. God, he’d been so sure of himself, so in charge, and Anderson had been alone and making the decisions without guidance for so, so long.
“Yeah? Well, that probably means you still need me. Bully for me!”
Anderson flinched. He didn’t want it to be true. “You are a bully,” he whispered, and he was practically transcendent with joy when the expected blow to the face actually arrived.
“Yeah? Was that violent enough for you?”
Anderson closed his eyes. He deserved it. He deserved more. Disposing of people like they were tissue, choosing his own life over the collected lives of his colony, over their culture, over the proof of their existence. He deserved it. He deserved everything Alpha gave him.
But he’d proved today that he still wanted to live.
“That’s more than enough,” he whispered, his eyes closed, feeling
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