Death Before Dishonour
06.18.10
We sit in this enormous room as we have done for the weeks since our convoy was intercepted by the enemy. There are two hundred men incarcerated here, a big drop from the three hundred that we were when we arrived, and more of us disappear daily. We that remain sit in small groups, or lay all day in our allocated bunks which surround the room. We engage in nothing but small talk, careful to let nothing slip about the journey prior to our capture: the walls may well have ears, and the itinerary of the Starship Empress, along with the nature of her cargo, must not be revealed to the enemy. The entire human race depends upon it.
The speakers that lie along the ceiling, high above our bunks, suddenly come to life and we all look at the floor, or into the distance – anywhere but each other’s eyes. A few seconds feel like hours as the list of names are called out, six names as usual. I recognise none this time, but I see my fellow officer wince at the sound of the third one called. From various parts of the room, six people get up and start walking towards the portal, heads held high. I am confident that none of these will give our captors anything. They walk through the centre of the room accepting handshakes from those of us they pass nearest, and hugs from their unit brothers. The rest of us salute them and wave them away to torture and certain death.
Perhaps I should call it 98% certain death. Out of a hundred men taken for interrogation so far, two have been returned. Both low rankers thankfully, so not privy to information that could endanger the Empress, but of course the fate of the other convoys also depends on our silence. When each of these two returned, bruised and broken, no further harm was done to them by us. We left them to their shame, and have spoken to neither since. They do not speak to each other, or ever let their eyes meet anyone else’s. The only time they raise their heads is when the speakers come on – no doubt hoping against hope that their names will be called out a second time, and that they might redeem themselves by choosing death this time.
The portal opens to let our six new dead brothers through, and we sit in silence and contemplative gloom. Eventually conversations start up, and some kind of normality returns for a few more hours. Packs of cards are brought out, a few footballs are kicked around and the inevitable gambling and joshing is in full flow once again. The day goes on as all the others before it, with only a brief moment of collective anxiety when the portal opens again – but none of our six brothers are returned to us in shame. It is merely the robotic arm rolling in the crates with our rations for the next day. Finally, the portal closes again and the lights are dimmed. We all head to our bunks to escape from this prison in our dreams.
The lights brighten up, and I get up to face this new day. I go to pick up my rations and have something to eat; something nutritionally suitable for human consumption, I presume, but it tastes of nothing. I while away more time by doing some exercise, and then the speakers let out the hiss that comes before the kiss of death. My name is called, and a wave of unreality washes over me. My legs seem to be working by themselves – it can’t be my brain controlling them. They carry me towards the portal while people shake my hand and salute me and my five brothers who go to face the enemy with me. I shake my head to clear the cloud that has set in it, and lift my gaze to where the artificial gravity tells me the sky should be. As the portal opens and I step across the threshold, I pray that I am strong enough to die.
Related Posts:
Tags: Flash Fiction, fridayflash, Science Fiction, Soldier, War
WOW – your writing is so tight and amazing. Sucks me right now. In such a short story you’ve built up the “my name is called” scene so well, that I felt my stomach turn a little.
Nice.
Jim
You painted this scene perfectly, right down to the cards in between the calling of names.
Well done.
Can’t help but wonder what the cargo is. The title and the last line frame this scene perfectly.
:0)
Very strong story that sucked me right in. Excellent!
The tension in this piece is so thick. Every line is tightly woven so as to not let a detail pass. Perfection.
Very cool story. That last line: “…I pray that I am strong enough to die.” is a real kick in the gut. Great job!
Great title, attention grabber and suits the story well. I like the robotic arms vs the robotic feeling of the character. Good story.
“Perhaps I should call it 98% certain death. Out of a hundred men taken for interrogation so far, two have been returned.”
Haha, that was the best.
What tense, clean writing. This story could have been any war, on any planet or no planet. The brutality and futility comes down like a hammer.
If only the real human race were so noble to a man and worthy of protecting by a military omarta. Sadly I fear we are not.
marc nash
What an incredibly engaging and precise bit of world-building this was. Fantastic, tightly worded and paced, tension and worry all knotted into the reader from the get-go. Brilliant execution. Amazing work.
Your flashes have a magnetic appeal… They’re clean, taut and pack more than a wallop.
I love the detached feeling of this, I was sucked right in.
Grabbed me by the eyes and wouldn’t let go. It’s loosened it’s grip a little but I still can’t quite shake it off. As it neared the end I was expecting some kind of twist. I’m relieved you didn’t do that – it would have destroyed this. Thanks.
Outstanding story Maria with just the right amount of detail. You just get better and better.
Chilling stuff. Would I be brave enough? You get it just right.
He’s almost robotic about his duty. Very well written.
This is a wonderful interplay between the collective ‘we’ and the lone ‘I’ who walks to his honourable death. And I agree the world building is spot on and you twist it nicely in the first paragraph to let us know we’re talking a futuristic world (with the same human frailties).
Tight, dramatic, insightful writing. This is why I should be here every week, not playing catch up once a month.
Very cool, dramatic story. I was carried right along.
>the hiss that comes before the kiss of death.<– My favorite line. 🙂
Wonderfully done piece you have here. 🙂
This grabs you by the throat and doesn’t let go. Taut and focused.
Very impressive, and raises questions I will have to think about for a while.
Taut writing. Tense reaction. I found most of my muscles clenched as I was reading this, only relaxed when I got to the comments.
This really is a gripping story. Beautiful last line.
Although I, too, was interesting in their mission and cargo, in the end it’s not about that, so I’m sort of glad you didn’t go into it. Good tension and a great ending line.
You get the tension so perfectly (envy, envy). Read this twice, and it’s just… so tight. The last line made my gut clench. Peace…
Wow, so much tension, honor and pain. Beautiful piece.
Harrowing scenario. Several people describe your writing as tight and clean – I think that’s just right. And your consistency from week to week is remarkable.
I would hope I’d have the courage to die with honor in this situation.
Huh. I wonder. Could they become tomorrow’s rations?
But then why were two returned?
There’s more to ponder here…
Excellent story. I was drawn in immediately. Great piece of writing.
Once again you hit it out of the park. Great story.
You gave me chills… I am constantly amazed by your story telling. Amazed… and jealous 😉
~2
You give just enough to let your reader’s imagination run riot. Excellent. The tension is built wonderfully and you stop at just the right point to allow the reader take over.
Nicely done.
“My name is called, and a wave of unreality washes over me.” I can feel his stomach weighted by the artificial gravity and dropping through the floor.
I agree with everything that has been said. Mazzz your stories are always top drawer and this one was just SO darn well written. You are a pro, Maria, a pro. Kudos!
This grabbed me and did not let go. It will be running through my mind for a long time after I vacate the screen; powerful stuff indeed.
Very tight writing! Wonderful style to suit the subject matter.
This is a great portrayal of hopelessness, with the courageous option being the hardest, a no-win situation. Very desperate and sad. Nicely crafted.
This is one of your definite “wow” stories. I could almost feel my own legs turn rubbery under similar circumstances. Another great story from you, Mazz.
Sci-Fi is my favourite genre (also Sci-Fi/horror)
This tells a good story without waffling on endlessly about the enemy or their reasons, it is sufficient to know that they are held by ‘the enemy’ and their predicament is grave.
It reflects the courage and determination that most of us would like to aspire to.