I stayed in
contact with Edan after I reached out on Evan’s birthday. It was good talking
to him. It felt like I had family again. The military ingrains this idea into
your head, that your fellow soldiers are family; they’re all you need. Then
when you’re apart you realize it’s not really a family. They don’t call you
when you’re gone, they don’t check on you when you’re down your luck. You
quickly realize they call themselves a family so you feel bad for going against
the grain. A few like Casey might be friends, but family they are not. I was
treating Edan the same way, but he is family. It just so happened that we both
turned out to be on Nyame. Apparently, he lives in the city, the rough part
from what he tells me.
Edan has
struck out on his own and built a small crew with a refurbished ship. He named
the ship, Pariah because his crew is full of misfits. They specialize in
getting illegal Revrell tech into Federation territory or people from one system
to another. The whole thing sounds ridiculous to me and I can’t piece together
how it would work in secrecy. He offered me a role on his crew, but space piracy,
isn’t for me. He makes a point to constantly remind me he’s a smuggler not a
pirate as if that would make me reconsider the job offer. I already considered
taking up bounty hunter work, I don’t need more ill-advised career paths in
front of me.
“So you’re
telling me dad is certifiable, so was Evan and he’s pretty sure we should be on
meds too,” Edan asks almost dumbfounded.
“Yeah,
that’s exactly what I’m saying.”
He sips
from his multicolored drink with the umbrella, “that’s stupid.”
“I said the
same thing, but he seemed sincere.”
“Man, if
anyone said that besides you I wouldn’t believe it. Mom always said he had a
sensitive side, but we never saw it. Maybe you drank him into sensitivity.”
“All those
years in the marines managed to teach me something, how to drink an old drunk
under the table.”
“Should I
be worried,” Edan orders another drink.
“Why would
you be worried?
“Because
we’ve known each other thirty years and we’ve never had a drink together.”
“Maybe you
should be worried. I might find out if you were the one who told mom I snuck
Akeem in,” I laugh.
“Akeem and Alissa,
you were always so damn greedy. You didn’t need Alissa too,” Edan shakes me by
the shoulders.
“So, it was
you?”
“Yeah, it
was me, but Evan didn’t stop me.”
“I can’t
believe this, well I can. My own brother, a rat.”
“I’m not a
rat. I was a mouse back then, but I grew out of it,” he laughs.
Its fun
sitting here, thinking about old times with my brother. We can laugh about nights
when Evan would sneak us into the theater he worked at so we could watch movies
we were way too young to see. Nights when he would tag along to parties I was
invited to, nights when we’d be invited to the same parties. Edan and I are
only 11 months apart; mom calls us her step stool. It wasn’t uncommon for us to
end up in the same places even if we tried to have our own friend groups and
activities. Inevitably, something would get out of hand when the two of us were
in the same place at the same time. It always worked out, I had a reputation of
being a really good kid, so I could lie and say I was trying to save my brother
from peer pressure. On the flip side, he had a rebellious reputation so I
wasn’t pressed hard in situations I should have been. We balance each other
out. Just opposite ends of two peas in a pod, but there used to be three.
“You’re
wishing he was here, aren’t you,” Edan asks as he notices my silence.
“You always
were great at reading minds,” I chuckle.
“Emotions,
not minds. Emotions are simple,” he takes a sip of his drink. “But I miss him
too.”
“To Evan,”
I raise my glass of the Enkan Cachaça.
“To Evan,”
he taps the bottle with his glass.
He finishes
his drink, “Now, where the hell did you develop a taste for Enkan Cachaça?
You’re not cultured like that,” he laughs.
I fill him
in on my trip to Mars and how I almost fell in love with Renan. He laughs and
says I’m still a hopeless romantic. But he hasn’t had much luck in the love
department either. His working theory is we’re afraid to turn out like our
parents, or kill ourselves over love like Evan. I think we’re just horribly
adjusted to normal society. It’s obvious looking at us, he’s following thirty
fashion trends and I’ve got a turquoise prosthetic arm. Some days I miss my
real arm, and it bothers me when people stare sometimes, but, Renan keeps
making jokes about it, and somehow, I feel better. I haven’t laughed about losing
my arm before. I don’t let him off easy, I remind him that he looks like a gold
dusted lightning rod. I can’t help but think of all the years we wasted dodging
each other for no real reason. There’s so much we don’t know about each other,
and all we can seem to talk about is the past.
“Hey, can I
ask you something,” I ask as he returns from the bathroom.
“Whatever
you want.”
“Why did
you choose to become a space pirate, or smuggler?”
“That’s
easy, I thought you were going to get all deep on me. The freedom. I can go
anywhere I want, work with whoever I want. I’ve got the option to tell people
to fuck off and they can’t fire me. I work with a bunch of outcasts because we
live on the fringes of society. Society is fucked up, no matter how much fun we
have and how much the Federation makes it look like things are perfect there’s
people suffering everywhere. I don’t have to participate in that. I can do
whatever I want, I don’t have to play the class warfare game,” he’s drunk and
rambling, but I can tell he’s passionate about it. “Why the hell should we let
some rich assholes tell us what’s best for the world? They don’t live in the
real world. War made sure that corporations weren’t ruling over us all but
they’ve still got our so-called leaders in their pockets. The Federation
doesn’t have an army but they got ships, and they got guns and they got
soldiers. Soldiers like you who they lie to and send out to get blown up in some
far away war. Who funds that? Who really funds that? Is it the man behind the
man behind the throne? Who makes them shiver down to their bones? It isn’t me,
it isn’t you. Wee ain’t heirs to no corporations. Why the fuck should we play
by their rules?”
“I see
you’re still a passionate little anarchist,” I punch him in the shoulder.
“I’m not an
anarchist, we just need to destroy and rebuild. We’ve been trying to fix the
same bullshit system for hundreds of years. But we can’t fix what’s working as
it was designed to. You should know that history nerd.”
“Okay,
okay. I’m not ready to start burning buildings yet, but spare me when the
revolution comes.”
Edan gives
me a slight shove, “I’ll make sure to spare you,” he laughs. Then his face gets
serious, “my turn. Nyame isn’t the place for a soldier to take leave. Like I
said, fringes of society. A soldier certainly shouldn’t be in Invicta. Which
leads me to my question. Why are you here?”
“I quit,”
the words come out of my mouth without hesitation.
“You’re
drunk.”
“No, I
really did run away. They wanted me to go back and fight after I lost my arm. I
was going to be a good soldier and go. But, I couldn’t do it. It felt like I
was suffocating, my skin was burning while I was sweating through my flesh and
freezing cold at the same time. I did the only thing I could think of, I hid in
a ship, then ran away. Just like a coward.”
Edan
listens to my words with his eyes closed, not saying anything. “Well I’m a
criminal, and I run away all the time. There’s no shame in it.”
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