See Part One for Disclaimers
***3***
Beka watched the young man tossing his head back and forth, muttering quietly to himself. His fever was raging. She had offered to stay with him while Trance rested, taking over the duties of nurse. Wiping Harper's brow with a cool cloth and trying to soothe his nightmares with words. Rev was to relieve her when his shift on the bridge had ended.
Hunt had been by once to see if the young man was improving. Their captain had just touched Harper's shoulder sadly, regret etched on his face.
She'd been too tired to voice her anger, and settled for glaring at him silently.
Dylan's eyes had met hers. "I'm sorry, Beka."
His first officer nodded towards Harper. "He's the one you should be apologising to," she'd said. "You'd better hope you get the chance."
******
Harper stared up at the stars, bright in the clear night sky. The air was crisp and biting and his much-mended rags offered no protection from the bitter winds that swept over the scarred and damaged planet.
He was eleven. He didn't remember when he'd begun this nightly ritual, coming to the top of the hill, the highest point in the camp, to gaze up at the stars but it was one of the few things he found comfort in.
The stars were up there waiting for him. He was going to live among them one day. Of that he was absolutely certain.
The others laughed at him over that belief. Born here, die here. They said.
But not him. Not Seamus Harper. He was gonna get out.
Harper yawned. It was getting late. His mother had warned him not to stay too long; the 'streets' of the refugee camp were not safe to walk after dark. Harper got up and began the trek back along the filthy river. He scanned the ground for stones as he walked, finally finding one that was flat and smooth, just right for skimming. He picked it up and curled his fingers around it the way Declan had shown him many times then pulled his arm back. He threw the stone with a fluid motion and watched it sail towards the water.Plop.
The stone hit the water and sank.
Harper swore. How hard could it be? Siobhan could do it; the snotty nosed kid in the hut across from his families could do it. Hell, the twin's newborn baby sister Jessica would be skimming stones before him
Why couldn't he?
He'd given up trying when Dec and the other kids were around, knowing they would tease him over his constant failure. Dec would never know how much his jokes hurt Harper.
He didn't want to be the only one who couldn't skim. Why did he have to be different?
But he was, and the older he got the more he knew it was true. It was one of the reasons why he was so convinced he wasn't going to die here.
There was a shuffling behind him. Harper turned in alarm, scanning the darkness for movement. He'd already stayed out long after curfew. His father would be furious.
Nothing.
He turned to go, walking quickly along the riverbank. Thick yellowy scum coated the banks, smelling foul. He'd heard stories of lakes on other worlds so clear you could see the bottom. He'd decided he'd believe that when he saw it.
It didn't sound right. Water was a see-through brown, everyone knew that. It was only clear when it fell from the sky, and then only when there hadn't been any duststorms.
Another noise behind him. Harper's heart began to pound and he quickened his pace. Someone grabbed his arm and a hand closed on his mouth.
******
"Shay?" The voice echoed through the camp, getting closer with each shout. "Seamus?"
It was Podraig. Harper sniffed back tears. He was sitting in the scummy shallows of the river, soaked to the skin. He'd been tossed there like a piece of worthless rubbish by that. . .
After he'd. . .
A shudder convulsed his thin body. He was numb, in shock.
Podraig was still calling his name. He had to get up, get out of the muck and the filth. That's where you vermin belong! The Nietzschean had spat as he threw Harper into the water.
"Seamus Harper, your Da told you to be back hours ago!"
Harper began shaking as Podraig came nearer. He could see the distant silhouette of the twin's uncle and he desperately wanted to run away, but his limbs were too stiff. Aching from the bruises and from sitting in the cold water for. . .how long? How long had he sat there, his mind panicking, trying to comprehend the incomprehensible?
"If your mother finds out you were playing by the. . ." Podraig trailed off as he came close enough to see the blood oozing from the cuts on Harper's face and the rips in his clothes. "God!" He immediately broke into a run and scooped the boy into his arms, "shh, it's OK now."
The eleven-year-old curled into a ball in Podraig's embrace and began to sob.
"Hush, Shay, I'm here." Podraig rubbed the boy's back comfortingly; "it is over."
"N-Nietzschean. . ."
"I know," Podraig closed his eyes, "believe me, I know. No one will hurt you again, I promise." He found Harper's face and laid a hand against his cheek. "We will never speak of this, Seamus, do you understand?"
******
Beka was dozing, her head resting on her arms. The chair next to Harper's bed wasn't ideal for sleeping in, but she wasn't about to leave the young man alone.
A noise roused her. She looked up, stretching the kinks out of her limbs.
Harper had curled into a ball, clutching at the quilt. His delirious mumbles became sobs. Beka was at his side in a moment, stroking his brow.
"Harper?"
He twisted weakly from her touch, his breath hitching in his chest.
"It's OK, you've just got a fever. You'll be fine."
He was whispering something, his words so quiet she had to lean right over to hear them.
"Not my fault." He wept, "not my fault. . ."
***4***
Beka smoothed Harper's brow as the young man's delirious tears died away. Whatever his fevered mind had shown him it had scared him. And her. She had never seen him so frightened and so. . .child-like. He had huddled himself in her arms, seeking comfort in her presence and yet somehow disturbed by it.
"Harper?" She whispered, "what wasn't your fault?"
His eyelids flickered at the sound of her voice.
Her heart leapt. He'd heard her! "Fight it, Harper." She told him, "C'mon. Don't let this beat you."
He lifted his head just a little, "B-Bek. . .?" He murmured, "not. . ."
"Not what?"
"F. . .fault. . ."
She frowned in confusion, not understanding him. Did he think she was blaming him for getting ill? "It's Dylan's; he should have listened to me. I should have made him listen."
"No. . .no. . ."
His head flopped back and sleep overwhelmed him.
"Seamus? Can you hear me?"
******
His mother died the winter before the Magog's came. It was the one small comfort he felt in the years that followed. His mother had been spared that pain, the pain he and the rest of his family would always carry. She'd been weakened by pneumonia the year before and when the rations had been cut that winter and the river had flooded the land; she hadn't been strong enough to survive the cold and hunger. They buried her in the midst of a rainstorm, the heavy downpour soaking the mourners to the skin. The hole they'd dug had half filled with water and it had made him sick to see her simple coffin sink into the filthy water. She would be so cold in there.
And despite the indescribable sorrow he felt, he couldn't cry. The tears just would not come.
They never had.
Months passed and his father became distant and cold, the grief eating away at his heart. He barely spoke to anyone, not even Seamus. When he did speak to his son, it was in anger.
He'd lost that fire; the will to survive here that Seamus had always admired in his father. Now he was helpless, shutting himself away in the hut, sometimes for days on end, never eating or bathing. Flying into rages at the slightest things.
Harper began spending more of his time with his cousins and their parents, Jennifer and Liam. Jennifer was his mother's sister and she reminded Seamus so much of her, both in her looks and in her kindness. She had promised her sister she would take care of him and she had.
"Shay?"
Harper looked up from the pile of junk he'd traded his food for. He immediately felt the heat that always burned in his cheeks when he saw the girl who was with his cousin. Ashling Morgan was Siobhan's best friend and quite possibly the prettiest girl in the camps. She was 14, the same age as Harper and very sweet. He wished he had the courage to say something to her other than an embarrassed 'hi'.
"Dec said you traded!" Siobhan complained. "And for that. . .that whatever it is!"
"It's a portable 'pute interface. I got a good deal!" He knew he'd be in trouble with Siobhan for the trade. She had worked hard to convince the guard to give them extra food in exchange for running errands.
"Good deal! Shay, it's virtually an antique!" She tapped behind her ear; "it's all up here now. Didn't you see that one on the Stationer?"
He had seen it and since then he'd thought of little else. "Yes. And I'm going to have one of those one day."
Siobhan burst into laughter. The derisive kind that only teenaged girls seemed to be capable of. He noticed that Ashling didn't join her.
"I am." He said, "but I need to know how they work first and this is more basic. It should be easy to figure out."
She knew that was the truth. He had a gift for technology, seeming to know how to do things without ever being taught.
Whatever Siobhan might have said was lost in the sudden screams that filled the camps. They all turned to look in the direction of the voices. People were running towards them, headed in no particular direction, just running in a blind panic.
Harper spotted Dec in the mass, his eyes wide with terror.
"MAGOGS!" He screamed. "We gotta get out of here!"
As he reached them the sounds of laser fire filled the air, mixing with the panicked screams."Kids?" Podraig shouted as he pushed his way through the people to them.
The twins father, who was also fighting his way to them, waved to his brother. "Go," he yelled, "take the children. Don't wait for us!"
Podraig wavered, indecision on his face, but only a moment. He hurried the twins away, Ashling following, but he noticed that Seamus wasn't with them.
"Shay!" He called back, "we've got to stay together!"
Harper ignored him and stayed where he was; he could see his aunt and uncle a little way behind clutching their little daughter Jessica, their eyes filled with terror. But no matter how hard he looked he couldn't see his father. He scanned the crowds frantically for the pallid, unkempt face of his father.
Then he saw them in the distance.
The Magog.
Stocky creatures with brown matted hair. Their ugly mouths spewing acid venom into the faces of their victims. People he knew, his neighbours, his friends. Their screams of absolute agony as their skin blistered and burned echoing in Harper's ears. There were hoards of them, swarming through the huts. Coming towards them, mindlessly killing the people in their way.
Oh God, were they. . .?
Harper wanted to vomit at the sight. The Magog's were eating the dead and the mortally wounded who wished they were. Death could not come to soon to take them away from the pain.
He found he couldn't look away, couldn't move, couldn't run. He had to watch.
Watch transfixed as the people he'd known since the day he was born being massacred around him.
Flesh was torn from bone.
The mud was turning scarlet with blood.
And then the tide of Magog engulfed him. . .
******
Someone was yelling at him to move, hands grabbing at him to force him into a run. He was dimly aware that it was his uncle, half dragging him to catch up to Podraig and the twins. But the images he'd seen kept replaying themselves in his head and he couldn't make them stop.
Good people, people he counted as friends had been eaten alive in front of him.
He knew Liam thrust him into Podraig's grip, knew Podraig was screaming his name at him in an effort to snap the boy out of his trance. The sound echoing, coming as something not connected to reality. Harper was drowning in the sounds of the terror and the killing around him.Make it stop, make it stop, make it stop. . .
He didn't know whether his hysterical cries were aloud or just in his mind but the panic into which he descended sent him crashing to the ground. He landed heavily. His uncle grabbed at his wrist to pull him to his feet. Harper gasped when he saw two Magog coming after them. Liam saw the horror on his nephew's face and glanced back to see what had caused it. He swore when he saw the Magog's. He knew they couldn't out run them.
"Jennifer!" Liam yelled at his wife, "get the children as far away as you can. Podraig and I will slow them down."
"No, they can-"
"TAKE THEM!"
The anger in his voice made Jennifer flinch and roused Harper out of his shock. There was no time for arguments. She met her husband's eyes and Harper saw the unspoken words that passed between them in a blink of an eye.
They were saying goodbye.
It scared him more than the Magog. More than the death surrounding them.
Suddenly it was real. They knew they were going to die.
Podraig nodded once to his brother and Liam took one last look at his family.
Then the brothers charged the Magog. . .
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