Chevalier

Fiction - by David A. Gray

“Hi, Mommy. Can I still call you that? Bobby Dowd from class says that Chevaliers are given new names so they’ll forget their families. How was the journey? Do you miss us? Daddy says you always wanted to travel. I miss you every second of the day, and so does Rex. Daddy does, too. He tries not to show it, but I hear him crying at night. The navy put a special screen in the spare room, so I can record a message for you every day. The man who set it up said messages go through a pipe to the base and then are sent into space at the speed of light. He said my messages will get there a hundred years before you do, but that doesn’t make sense.”

“Hi, darling Cassie. I slept the whole way, and yes, your message arrived before I did. In fact, they all did. I’m going to ration myself to one a day and reply immediately as if you just sent them. Of course, you can call me Mommy. The navy calls us and our suits ‘Chevaliers’ to make us seem like knights of old. Bobby sounds a jerk, but what is true is that draftees are given new names, so we are mentally ready for the war. We got randomly generated names. Mine is Copper Blue, which sounds cool, right? Yes, I wanted to travel, but with you guys. Sleep tight, little Cassie. I love you.”

“Mommy, Rex is off his food, so we’re taking him to the vet. I think he misses you. It’s been two weeks since you left, and I only missed one message when Daddy ran over the power cable with his lawnmower. He wasn’t hurt, but he sure was angry. He was mad at me too when I said that you’d miss my message. He said it doesn’t make any difference. He’s a jerk, but don’t tell him! Is it true that there’s no air there, and the sun is blood red?”

“Hi, Cassie! It’s okay. I missed a few messages, too, because I was being modified. I look funny, with no hair. And that’s on top of all the changes that happened while I was asleep. You’d love the connections they put all over my body so I can meld with the suit—they sparkle. Yes, the sun is red and fat. There’s air in our base inside a metal asteroid, though I don’t need to breathe much now. I bet the vet tells you a certain eight-year-old has been feeding Rex under the table, and he needs to go on a diet! Did you get your hair cut like you wanted? And your dad’s not a jerk, but I wish he wouldn’t say stuff like that.”

“Mom, they named the school gymnasium after you! A man from the navy came and said thank you and that you’ll be a war hero and that we should be proud, even if we’ll all be long dead before you return. I got so upset about that and cried and the principal took me for an ice cream and said that man never should have said what he did, and she said also it’s not right, drafting moms. He must be lying. I miss you, Mommy.”

“Oh, Cassie, I’m so sorry you found out this way. I hope your dad explains when you’re old enough. It took me more than 200 years to get here, and I was sleeping the whole way. Your messages travel much faster but that was still over a century. You can be proud and sad. I didn’t want to be drafted, either, but the new smart computers they made to win the war—they chose people with the strongest emotional reasons to fight and the highest chance of staying sane. And that was moms like me. I saw my armored suit today—once inside, I’ll be a Chevalier, officially. It’s the size of a city block and is really a spiky, ugly mess of engines, armor, and weapons, with a tiny me-shaped chamber in the center. It doesn’t look much like a knight’s charger, though I guess the 500-yard-long particle cannon slung along one flank does look like a lance. It was built especially for me while I was on my way here, and soon I’ll ‘meld’ with it. I’m nervous about that, Cassie. But I’m being assigned a veteran who will see me through all the changes. How’s Daddy? I’m going to keep sending these, darling, even though I know you’ll never receive them. it keeps me sane.”

“I’m going to keep messaging you, Mom, because Dad explained that you will be awful lonely when you get there and that for you, it’ll feel like you only just left. And I can help cheer you up, maybe. So here I go. Rex died, Mom. It was peaceful, and we buried him in the field out back, under the oak tree we planted just before you left. It’s still a sapling. Daddy says we won’t get another dog, that it’s too much responsibility when it’s just him to look after it. I think that’s mean. One of Jessica’s moms has been drafted, too. Can you look after her when she arrives? Jessica is upset, but we’re best friends now. We’re thinking of starting a club for girls whose moms were drafted.”

“I’m in my suit, Cassie. They slid me in, and I could hear the armor clanging shut behind me like metal cliffs. The pilot lies in a cylinder in the heart of the suit, encased in gel and cushioned by field dampers. I have never seen so many connectors and tubes. I thought I might panic, but all of a sudden, I was in and calm. I can feel the tiny machines and filaments connecting—it tickles. I’m sorry about Rex, Cassie. Maybe in time, Daddy will get another dog. I’m glad Rex is buried in the field he chased rabbits in. They might poop on his grave as revenge! I’ll look out for Jessica’s mom when she arrives. I most likely won’t know her, though, as she’ll have a new name, and we’re not allowed to talk about who we used to be. Also, once we’re melded, we don’t ever leave the suit. I’m so glad you’re going to keep messaging me. Opening your letter every day is the only thing I have to look forward to. Who knows, maybe long-life treatments will get better and better, and you will be able to read them someday?”

“There’s a new movement, Mom. It’s a bunch of people saying that we shouldn’t wait for the enemy to break through, that we should turn the new fast supply ships into colony barges, take our stuff, and head the other way to start again somewhere the enemy can’t find. It sounds like running away to me, but Dad said if it meant families could stay together, that’s not a bad thing. Does that make sense? Could you come home and go with us? It would be like you always wanted.”

“Cassie, if I’d had that option, I’d have maybe taken it, and I, you, Dad, and Rex would have all been sleeping peacefully and heading to a new world. I don’t know if there’s any place away from the enemy, though. There are so many of them. What I can say is that so far, they haven’t broken through, and I’d be the first to know. They’re slower-moving than our troopships, and even if they somehow defeated us today, it’d be centuries before they reached Earth. I’d want to come as a Chevalier, tho, now I’ve experienced it. My body is big and fast and powerful. I can see in every spectrum, not with my eyes. I can feel the radiation sleeting against my metal skin as I speed through open space, and I hear the stars chattering. It’s … amazing. I met my veteran mentor, Cassie. She’s called Binary Opal, and is a legend. She’s been here for decades and has fought battles every day. I’ve not met met her, of course. But I’m learning a lot as we do exercises around the big fat sun and even through its edges! It’s like bodyboarding in fire.”

“I’m sorry it’s been a while since my last message, Mom. I mean, I know it doesn’t matter, but if I pretend, I can imagine you reading this when I’m at the market and stuff. The protests have caused power outages, and Dad says the government wants to ‘stifle dissent’, or something like that. There was an anti-draft march in town that Dad says was immature. He said that it’s not fair that you had to go, but that other people are refusing now. He’s down on most things, though he watches all the news about the escape ships. Oh, me and Jessica—our club is called ‘Girls Against Draft’ and there’s a third member, Emmalina, whose mom just got picked. Danny Dowd said we’re dumbasses.”

“That’s okay about the messages, Cassie—there’s no gap for me. I’m missing some, too, because we’re not allowed to send or receive messages except when we connect to the base to refuel and re-arm. We’re near-invisible to the enemy, and we communicate by little needles of light. I’m ready for combat now, and I’ve been assigned to Binary Opal’s squadron. That’s a relief because they’re the best. Danny sounds like a jerk, but don’t let him get to you: he’s jealous that you have a club.”

“Third grade is boring, Mom. At least I’m in Jessica’s class. Our teacher is Old Man Hawkins, who has robotic legs from the war. He’s nice. During social studies, when Danny Dowd said women should be at home, not fighting, Mr Hawkins said the real reason Danny won’t ever be selected for the draft isn’t because he’s a boy but because he’s dumb. Do you miss us, Mom? We miss you. Even Dad, though he doesn’t say it now.”

“I like the sound of Mr Hawkins. He must have come home since I left. He was most likely in the old marine units, fighting dirtside. They disbanded them a while back. Third Grade already? I miss you so much. I was in combat every day this month, Cassie. I’m lucky Binary Opal and her squadron know what to do, or I’d have been killed a dozen times over. I saw my first dead enemy, too: we won a battle, and when it was over, I cruised through the remains of their fleet. It’s true what the stories said: the enemy looks like human children. It was horrible, seeing hundreds of thousands of frozen dead kids tumbling through the dark. And the living ones still outnumber us millions to one. All we do is kill them and train to be better at killing them. It’s all for you, though, Cassie. Every year we hold them off is another year you’re safe… well, maybe I’m a grandmother, a few times over. Maybe one of my great-great grandchildren is listening to this?” 

“Mom, I’m not speaking to Dad. He was having coffee with Mrs Johnson again, and he was laughing and had combed his hair and shaved. He’s a jerk, and I told him that right in front of her. There’s now a little band of us in Girls Against the Draft, and we designed a logo and everything. There’s a new principal who Jessica says her other mom called a ‘government lackey,’ and he says our club is betraying the cause, but we say it’s to honor you. I miss you, mom. I wish you were here instead of Dad.”

“Cassie, don’t be too hard on your dad. He must be lonely. I never liked Mrs Johnson much. Tell him he needs to keep his standards up and that I’m not angry. I’m proud of you and your club. But someone has to fight, and the computers chose me, and Jessica’s mom, and all the others. I have to go. I have a long raid coming up. If I don’t … no. I’ll always come back.”

“I needed you here on my first day at Middle School, Mom. I appreciate that you went off to do brave stuff, but I need you. I know I message most days, but it’s not enough. And I don’t think I can keep doing it like this because… well... it was simpler when I was eight—easier to pretend. You’re still sleeping and not even far along your journey yet. One good thing is there’s a whole load of girls and boys at the new school whose moms are gone. Some call themselves War Orphans, but that’s not the right term for it because you’re not the one who will be dead by the time this gets to you. I cut my hair off—we all did—to annoy the president, who says that the women left behind need to “make an effort” with clothes and hair. He’s a bigger jerk than Bobby and wants to stop funding the escape ship project.”

“Please don’t stop sending messages, Cassie. They keep me going. I worked out how to store them in my suit, and sometimes, ahead of a battle, if we’re drifting in the dark between the stars, I pipe your messages into my head. I couldn’t bear to think this is your last one, but I don’t want to check and count, as that would tell me things about your future and my past that I’m not ready for. Things are grim here. We’re in the midst of one of the bigger enemy migrations. Teeming billions of them in generation ships. All this time and we haven’t even got them to talk to us. There are so many new draftees arriving all the time. We all avoid getting to know them, as most won’t survive long, even in the new Chevalier suits. Please keep writing to me, Cassie.”

“Mom, I dumped Reggie. His taste in music is awful. Wait, did I tell you I was dating Reggie? I know I message less often, but I’ve been so busy. The new thing is for girls to date for a maximum of a week at a time, then move on. It’s fun because boys are assholes just like dad, once you get to know them. I certainly don’t want to settle down because the moment I’m 18, I’m eligible for the draft if I have the right gene profile. They test everyone early now. The escape ships will be ready before then, everyone says. It’s my dream that I get on one, and when it arrives somewhere safe, you’ll also be there. I’ll be asleep, Mom, for hundreds of years, you see?”

“Cassie, I’m a dozen boyfriends and girlfriends behind. I thought you were dating Jorgé. It’s my fault, though: the raid was so far, even at the speeds Chevaliers can go, that we were put to sleep for months, waking up only when targets were in range. Waking abruptly is no fun, especially decelerating at a thousand gees. That hurt. I’m not counting how many ships I killed anymore. I am counting our own dead: 132 Chevaliers this last battle. Did you know that only one rookie pilot out of ten survives their first year? I hope you don’t have the right gene profile, Cassie: that you inherited your dad’s flat feet or one of his more annoying habits that counts you as unsuitable. Or that the escape ship thing isn’t just a fantasy, though the thought of you being even further away kills me. I wonder if you went on it. If you did, depending on where you went, you’ll be asleep now as I listen to your voice. Maybe I can find out what happened and come and meet you. Our suits are so fast now, that they would outpace a sleepship. It would be a long trip, and no Chevalier has been tested for centuries of top-speed flight. I don’t know if we have the fuel, even.” 

“Mom, me, Jessica, Bobby, and Alicia got arrested in one of the protest marches. You’d be amazed, there were a million people in the streets demanding an end to the war. The riot police waded in, and some of us fought back. I got hit in the face with a rubber bullet right above the eye, so I don’t look great right now. Bobby came with us and got his head bashed with a baton. Apparently, being arrested for protesting the draft doesn’t mean you are exempt from the draft, which is a shame. In other news, I got a dog because Dad moved out, or rather moved in—with Mrs Johnson. Sorry, Mom. I called the dog RexToo— do you get the joke? He has some tweaks that make him super smart and also tough. Not that I need a guard dog, but things here are…unsettled, so Jessica’s moving in for safety. I might skip a message once in a while, as someone hacked the microwave sats and power keeps going out.”

“I don’t like the sound of all of that, Cassie. I approve of RexToo, and I get the joke. Did I tell you I have my own continuous gene-boosting? And my suit is constantly being upgraded. We have new drives that can accelerate at twice the rate, and weapons that can extinguish a sun. How is the oak tree doing? I think of it often. It must be a forest by now. I wish there were trees here or anything green. We’re pushing into enemy territory, and it’s brutal. If I didn’t have you back home, I’d go nuts. Which is why they chose me, I know. I suppose your news is why I haven’t heard from your dad for a long time. I’d hoped he might have wanted to tell me, for old times’ sake. That makes me sadder than I expected.”

“The government has fallen, Mom. We were out in the street all night celebrating. It was the returning veterans that tipped the balance in the end. The police didn’t want to fire on them. There’s a provisional cabinet made up of activists and veterans, and they’re calling it the Peace Party. Everyone is saying the draft will end. Well, not everyone: Alicia says she’s not so sure that the new weapons and the faster troopships that cut the journey time to the front cost too much for the military-industrial complex to abandon their investment. The war is profitable, Alicia says, and the elites don’t want peace. But she’s a pessimist, Mom!” 

“They’re designing new weapons and faster ships all the time, Cassie. The one I came out on was a museum piece by the time I arrived. I think we were even passed on the way while I was asleep, like the old sailing ships being overhauled by steamships! I hope you’re not getting your hopes up about the draft ending. That’s not what I see here, and so I think Alicia is a realist. But I’m glad that government fell, as they sounded pretty much the opposite of what we’re fighting for. We don’t get current news from home – it’s all ancient history to us. And so long as new recruits keep arriving, the generals here are happy. The enemy ships are getting faster, too, though we still have a lead. Intel says we’re encountering the 49th wave of their expansion, and for sure I see differences in the design and ornamentation of the new vessels. They still burn like they used to, and the bodies in space still look like children, though. It’s a good thing I don’t sleep much now: the nightmares are bad. What happened to the escape fleet plan?”

“Mom, I’m getting married. To Alicia. You always told me to be who I am. Also, as a bonus, it’s driving the boys nuts, as they say, there are not enough women to ‘go around’ because of war losses, so we’re making it official in part as a statement that they don’t own us. Bobby said there will be a new law against women marrying one another now the Peace Party has collapsed, and the fundamentalists are in power. Bobby turned out ok, but he’s not been the same since that policeman beat him on the head. I’m so sorry you couldn’t be here, Mom. Dad wants to come to the wedding, and I’ve said yes, grudgingly.”

“Cass, you made me cry, though not literally, because my tear ducts were removed. I’ve nobody to share the news with out here. Ok, I lie—I did send a tiny data squirt about it to Binary Opal, totally against regulations, when we were shielded by a trillion tons of metal asteroid during re-arming. She didn’t reply, of course, and I didn’t expect her to because she’s a stickler for rules and an officer, but I felt better from sharing the good news. There’s no downtime, and we never leave our armor, so nobody is a real friend. The old-timers don’t want to waste time getting attached, and I get it. Also, how can you slay a thousand ships from inside a gigantic god-like war machine and hear squad-mates burn alive, then talk about how much you liked the farmers’ market back home? Maybe when I’ve done my time and can come home, I can make friends again, if I remember how. I miss you, Cassie. I wish the laser casts had enough bandwidth for photos to get through. I would love to see your wedding photos. How’s RexToo? Was he a groomsman?”

“Alicia says hi, mom! She’s heard all about you, of course. We got married, and all of our friends came, even Dad and Helen, who we still call Mrs Johnson. Alicia and I bought the house from Dad. A lot of people have moved back to the city to escape their troubles, but I’m not leaving until the oak tree can take care of itself. The escape ships are a reality – or will be soon. They’re outfitting an unfinished troop carrier to be the first one at the orbiting factory right above us: we can see the lights at night! The plan is it will head away from Earth and the colonies, to get out of the path of the invaders’ migration. RexToo loves Alicia, too, and I swear he sits under Rex’s tree! I’m taking a course on streaming information right into people’s retinas. Have you got anything like that? Am I allowed to ask for—you know—security reasons? Actually, what am I talking about? Of course, it doesn’t matter what I ask. I just like to pretend, still. You know, like when I was little and believed… I miss that a lot.”

“Cassie, you can ask all you like. We know that it doesn’t really matter what we say, and I’m just about the only one who sends messages regularly. Or at all. I’m also the only one left from my training class. Yes, we do have something like that device, but it’s piped into our brains, which are blended with our suit’s artificial mind—we don’t even need the needle ports anymore. Our engineers say we’re a long way ahead as far as inventions go because needs must. I’m so pleased you and Alicia are taking over the house. But I’m worried about you. Why are we fighting out here when things are falling apart at home? I must find out where your escape ship went. We don’t have access to history for morale and security reasons, but I’ll push as hard as I can.”

“RexToo died, Mom. The first generation of the gene-tweaked dogs didn’t live very long. We buried him beside Rex. Things are calmer here because everyone’s focused on the escape ships – there’s a whole fleet being built now.  Alicia and I signed up for one headed to a cold, dry M-class world 300 light years away. We’re not allowed to say where, in case these messages fall into enemy hands. We’ll take acorns from the garden with us. We have to go because Alicia was right—the draft is never-ending. Every time a ship comes back from the front with those too damaged to fight anymore, people here get scared and think the enemy will arrive here unless we hold the line. Is that true, Mom?”

“I sometimes wonder if any of us genetic guinea pigs were meant to live very long, Cassie. But then, look at me. Over a decade of fighting and I’m still alive. I forget when I last left my suit. I’m not sure I’d want to get out now: I bet my original body looks grim. And it would be so limiting. Was I a vain mom? I can’t remember. I hope not. I’m glad you’re leaving. I promise I’ll come and find you. All of the locations and most of the data on the escape ships are classified, but I know they happened for sure. I don’t have an answer to your question: I really don’t know if we’re drawing more of the enemy here by fighting or whether we’re the only thing standing between them and home. All I know is, that the war never ends.”

“Mom, I’m three months pregnant. I didn’t want to say anything even to you, because it might have brought bad luck. I know you’ll think I’m too young, but we talked lots, and I wanted to do it. We asked Bobby to be the biological father: he’s not the smartest, but he has a strong heart and is loyal. Also, they don’t draft pregnant women, and that’s good. Dad’s mad, of course.”

“That is young, Cassie, but I support you in all you do. And if it prevents the draft, then good, though I’m sure you’re safe anyway. I hope so. So I was a grandmother, it sounds like? That’s more cause to fight on.”

“Mom, I got picked in the draft. Alicia’s not speaking to me: she says I must have suspected all along that I had the genes they were looking for. That’s so unfair! I’m only 18! And being pregnant doesn’t stop them anymore—they just wait until the baby’s born, then send me. It’s criminal, Mom! And being picked invalidates my place on the escape ship. This is your fault! I wish you’d never left, and I hate you!”

“Cassie, I’m sorry. All this time, everything I gave up, and all the lives I’ve taken, I did thinking it was keeping you safe. It’s awful out here, too. Binary Opal was killed this week in a battle that nobody will remember, that didn’t have a name, let alone a point. I never even met her in person, but I owe her my life. She sent a data squirt as her suit was destroyed. ‘Kepler 1649c,” was all she said. It must be a code for something above my pay grade.”

 “Mom, this is my last message. They took my baby away, and she’ll go with Alicia on the escape ship. She’s called Hope, which I know you’ll make a face at, but hope is all I have now for her future. I hope you can meet her someday, and I’d tell you where they headed, but all that kind of thing is censored. I ship out this morning on one of the fast transports. It will shave over ten percent off the journey time, so I’ll actually get to the front before you do. I don’t know what they named you, so keep an eye out for me if you’re still alive. They called me Binary Opal. I love you.”

“Hi, Hope. I’m casting this ahead of me as I start out for Kepler 1649c. With luck, it will get to your new home not too many years after you do, and the colony will be set up to receive it. And with even greater luck, I’ll not be too far behind. I think with the upgrades, my Chevalier might just make it, and I’m putting myself under for the long flight through the dark. I wasn’t given permission, but what can they do? Come after me and send me back to the front in another 600 years? I couldn’t protect my daughter, but I won’t fail you. I’m Copper Blue, a Chevalier, and I’m your grandmother.”