A story from the Space Squad 51 Universe…

 

On a rickety bunk inside a dimly lit room, Roedet Baneer took a deep breath before daring to meet her reflection in the polished bit of wall serving as a mirror. Her prosthetic hand moved in jerky motions over her scarred head, scarred so badly, she only had a few scraggly tufts of hair. Her dark eyes pooled with an abyss of sorrow. The rebellion had changed nothing.

“What was this for? We still starve, we still fight to breathe, we still live in barely habitable colonies.” Her thick lips quirked into a frown. “We can’t give up. I can’t give up. Happiness is a decision.” She sat up straighter, and with her flesh hand to steady her mechanical one, she placed the soft wig over the deep scars made by fire, fearlessness, and sacrifice.

Before donning the soft blue tunic and pants, she made adjustments to her prosthetic arm and leg. If she didn’t reset them at least five times a day, they would spaz out at inappropriate times and start moving of their own accord. It was embarrassing when she started jumping across a room or waving madly without any control, but she wouldn’t take an upgrade. None of the other veterans would be getting upgrades. She wanted them to see it was possible to go on, to be happy and productive, to keep forging a better life.

She checked the electronic crutch that helped her keep her balance. The battery was full but only lasted two hours. Carefully, she rolled up the charging cord and stuck it in her pack. Her tunic and pants were a dull shade of blue that blended in with the dingy scenery, but she placed her tongue on the roof of her mouth, forcing a smile into her dark eyes. The jaunty scarf was a cheerful blue, and she wound it around her neck, altering her sad outfit into something more joyful. She opened her hinged boots and snapped them on. Her hours of buffing didn’t take out the scuffs or their extremely worn state. These boots had taken her from grunt to fighter to leader, and she would take her remaining steps in this life in them with pride.

She attached her pack to a belt around her waist, picked up her crutch, and staggered onto her feet. “Let’s do this, Roedet. The worlds are counting on you.” She nodded firmly at her reflection and left the room.

The rebels on Io had given her their best accommodation, and she felt guilty about it. She didn’t deserve better than anyone else in the colonies. Everyone toiled relentlessly, and everyone had fought tirelessly. Finding it hard to meet the eye of those she passed, she knew she had to get over these feelings. Acknowledging her emotions would help her navigate the rough times humanity faced, but she couldn’t dwell in them. Citizens needed faith competent people had taken charge and would take care of them.

“Some sad, guilt-ridden, damaged woman isn’t what anyone wants at the helm,” she mumbled as she struggled down the stairs and out onto the streets. No matter the state of the colonies, most people wore big smiles and proudly sported bright blue scarves, tasting victory, feeling the rush of freedom for the first time. The mood was infectious, and Roedet was thankful for it, thankful for them.

At the edge of the dome, she easily found the observatory where Thijin Ocklan had sent out those first messages of hope decades ago. Thijin hadn’t lived to see her dreams come to fruition, but she wouldn’t be forgotten. Roedet tugged at her blue scarf in a silent promise.

Inside the old observatory, tables had been pushed together into one large table with chairs set around it. Representatives from major and minor colonies filled the room: Venus, Ganymede, Europa, Callisto, Titan, Rhea, Dionne, Ceres, Miranda, Tethys, Iapetus, Mimas, Enceladus, Ariel, Umbriel, Titania, Oberon, Triton, Vesta, Pallas, and Haumea representing colonies farther out than Neptune. Roedet was here on behalf of Mars. She took an empty seat and nodded at her fellow rebels. She wasn’t the only one deeply scarred and mangled. Worse, she knew her body and theirs were the least of the Sol’s problems.

After the seats filled, the room fell quiet. The representative from Venus cleared his throat. “How do we want to start?” Dahl asked in a hushed tone, his words falling with as little confidence as Roedet felt.

“We’re in the huckamucka deep,” Helie from Io responded. Her voice boomed with more fire. She inspired Roedet to speak up.

“Getting rid of the corporate rule was step one, now the hard work starts,” she said. “We inherited all of the problems they managed and worse. Half of the colony on Mars is no longer habitable.”

“We’re running out of power on Rhea,” another said.

“There’s a virus we can’t contain on Miranda.”

“To survive the beyond the year, we need to generate power and gather resources,” Dahl stated.

“Obviously,” Roedet replied. “Without ordering everyone back to work, how do we do that?” The twenty-two of them stared at each other, then ducked their heads.

“We have to become more like them,” Helie whispered. “The corporate assholes we hated and marched out of our domes.”

“We’re hypocrites,” Roedet said in a deadened tone. The shiver of realization shook her sense of righteousness. “To get the colonies in order so that we can have better lives in the future, we have to carry on as we were. I hate this answer.”

“Me, too.” Dahl shook his head in disgust.

“Maybe we can manage the Sol in a kinder and gentler way,” Roedet offered.

“What?” Helie inquired, her eyes narrowing.

“Rule the colonies.”

“We didn’t fight to become our enemies.” Dahl smacked the top of the table.

“Everyone sacrificed,” Roedet replied softly, her arm skipping across the table. Rolling up her sleeve, she programmed in a reset. “We sacrifice our dream short term in order to realize it in the long term. There is no winning if the colonies can’t survive.”

“We can manage the Sol with more heart,” Helie suggested.

“Of course we can.” Roedet couldn’t live with a different outcome.

“Unless someone wants to appoint a different representative,” Helie said,” I recommend this group become the ruling body of the Sol.”

“Us? Appoint ourselves?” Roedet raised a brow as much as she could and rubbed at the sudden knot of pain. Her face didn’t move as freely anymore, and she often forgot.

“There should be elections.” Dahl toyed with a scratch on the table, then looked up. “There has to be fairness.”

“Each colony should elect a governor and a council,” Roedet agreed. “I think this body should be by appointment. At least, for now.”

“This body, smody,” Dahl sneered. “I hate this.”

“I feel no better about it.”

“What do we call ourselves?” Helie asked. “Council of…, of what?”

“Human occupied planets,” the representative from Miranda offered. “CHOPs for short.”

Roedet shrugged, which made her shoulder with the missing arm ache. “I’m okay with that, and let’s make the appointments to the council for a limited time. Elections after.”

“I can handle that compromise,” Dahl agreed. “We have to get the colonies viable, which means we need the workers back at their jobs as soon as possible.”

Roedet winced but nodded in agreement. “We can manage the work in a more humane way.”

“Each colony should decide how to handle their population,” the representative from Tethys said.

“With certain basic rules,” Roedet cautioned. “Otherwise, this revolution has no meaning, no purpose. It has to mean something.” She glanced down at her missing limbs, then around the table at the other representatives. “I won’t accept less.”

“I’m with you,” Dahl said. “What do you propose?”

“Free time, kinder hours, and the workers share in the profits and rewards of the work. Sick time. Just being more human. Those were things I fought for. What did you want when you joined the fight?”

Answers rang out from around the table. “Regular food.” “Health care.” “The time to spend with my sick child.” “To avoid the heartbreak of seeing my child go off to the mines.” “The freedom to chose my purpose.” “Enough air to breathe.” “Food without bugs.”

The wants had been basic. “We can at least offer those things, can’t we?” Roedet asked the council. “If the workers feel more invested in the work, we won’t have to force people to pitch in.”

“No one tells you about this side of revolution,” Dahl frowned.

No one had. Roedet shifted in her chair to get more comfortable, glancing out the window at the marvels of Jupiter. Winning was more disappointing than she had anticipated. The Sol would have to dig deeper to make sure the dreams of the rebellion never lay fallow.