Greg Krojac - The Schrödinger Enigma

Although it seemed that much more time had passed while Jason replayed the battle in his mind, it was, in reality, only a few seconds. He moved in front of Enak, a human shield protecting a friend.

“You’re right, mate. I agree that we were betrayed, but it wasn’t Enak. I trust him with my life.”

The Marine kept his rifle pointed at Enak, although if he fired the weapon now, the bullets would hit Jason rather than the Argon.

“So who did betray us then? It has to be an Argon. No human would betray his own species.”

“You need to get out more if you believe that, but I think I know who gave us up.”

Jason couldn’t remember seeing Alemal in the fray. Of course, the room had been a maelstrom of confusion, but his military training had kicked in and he had become acutely aware of his surroundings and what was going on, even while he himself was fighting the intruders. Enak, Siroll, and Eled had all fought valiantly, but he had no recollection of Alemal even being in the main room of the POEC while the battle was raging. He suddenly had an idea of how to prove his Argon friend’s innocence. He turned to Enak.

“May I have your translation device, Enak?”

Enak removed the device from behind his ear, its removal making a slight popping sound as it disconnected from his head. He didn’t know exactly what Jason’s intention was, but he trusted the ex-paratrooper. Jason placed it on the seat of the only unbroken chair.

“And yours too, Eled, Siroll, Alemal?”

Eled and Siroll removed their devices and placed them alongside that of Enak.

“Alemal? Can you take your translation device out please?

Alemal glared at the rest of the survivors.

“This is a waste of time. You have got the guilty one. Enak is the traitor.”

It was true. In her eyes Enak was a traitor. He was fighting with the humans against his own people. What greater betrayal could there be than turning on your own blood? She lunged to her right and pulled Miriam in front of her, holding her tightly so that she couldn’t escape. She drew her pistol and held it to the poor young woman’s head as she edged her way towards the door with her hostage.

“If anybody tries to stop me leaving, I will kill the girl.”

The survivors knew that she wasn’t bluffing. She was the Argon spy, and that meant that she had no compassion. She wouldn’t hesitate to kill Miriam. There was no point in trying to negotiate with her.

Enak’s reactions were cat-like. In one swift motion he drew Jason’s sidearm from its holster, aimed it at Alemal’s head and fired. Miriam fell to the floor, for the second time that day, as the bullet rocketed through Alemal’s eye at such an angle that it obliterated what once had been her brain. The group turned as one, to see a tear trickle down Enak’s cheek, before he turned away to hide his face from his friends. Siroll picked up the translation devices from the chair, helping Eled to reconnect his – his broken left arm was next to useless – before replacing her own. Sitara, who had moved closer to her, leaned in towards the Argon and whispered.

“Was Enak crying?”

Siroll responded in an equally quiet voice, not wanting to highlight Enak’s sorrow at what he had just done.

“Alemal was his ekm – what you humans would call his wife. Enak did what was right and necessary – he knows that – but it was at great personal cost.”

Eled had been gritting his teeth, trying to ignore the pain that wracked his damaged arm, but it had become too fierce to bear. The two surviving nurses had noticed the blood starting to drain from his face and rushed over to help him, but he needed better medical care than the POEC room could provide. Siroll crouched alongside the Argon and took an object from her pocket.

“Here, let me help. I have something that can fix this.”

The two nurses moved a little away from their patient. Argon and humans were of the same original genus, but it would clearly be better if he were treated by someone who knew the Argon physiognomy. Siroll looked into Eled’s eyes.

“You know this is going to hurt, do you not, Eled?”

“Yes, I understand. Please do it. Now. Azimuuh amak eherehs ay ajnuvuk apufm .”

Sitara whispered to Enak.

“What did he say?”

Enak looked on, as Siroll checked for the specific locations of the breaks.

“He said that it hurts like the bone-breaking ceremony. Ajnuvuk apufm is one of the few rituals that we still maintain from the old days. Nobody believes that it’s really necessary, but it seems to be one of the few rites that we have not been able to extricate ourselves from. It is what you might call a coming of age ritual, in which both males and females have all four limbs deliberately broken to show their inner strength. They are then repaired using the tool which Siroll is holding in her hand. We are given the tool after the ceremony and can use it in the future if we are injured.”

Eled’s face screwed up in pain as Siroll placed a pen-like object over the first break. She pressed a button on the shaft of the device and Eled screamed out in pain.

Sitara winced and looked away.

“What is that thing? She’s torturing him.”

Enak took an identical item from his own pocket and showed it to the scientist.

“We call it an izimutam ahc obmohc . It puts the disturbed molecules back to where they should be. And yes, it is very painful.”

“How does it work?”

Sitara winced as Eled let out another shriek of pain.

“It uses electro-magnetism to relocate displaced molecules. For example, the molecules of the bones of the arm of Eled have been pushed out of position, causing the break. The tool simply returns those molecules to their original position. It is quite simple really.”

“It looks barbaric. It’s like a piece of torture equipment.”

“As a medical procedure, it is very efficient, but as a superstitious ritual, I agree. It is barbaric. However, Argon society does not appear to possess the communal will to cease the practice. I do not know why. There is no logic to its continuance.”

Eled returned to health, the survivors had to decide what to do next. Staying at the Metro station was out of the question. Jason’s mind was momentarily distracted as his mind drifted back to the last meeting back at the Square when he and his neighbours had decided to leave their homes in search of fresh supplies, shelter, and safety. He wondered how his life would be now, had that small community survived that night. He’d have been able to share the responsibility of guiding the group with Patrick and Marshall, for sure. But that was a moot point now – they were all dead. His military training had brought his small group thus far, although the best soldiering skills in the world couldn’t have prevented the massacre that had just taken place.

He looked at the five surviving Marines who were, in turn, looking at him. Neither Jason nor the soldiers seemed certain of what to do next. They’d lost their sergeant in the battle and, as Privates, now felt like a rudderless ship and could really use some guidance. One of the Marines spoke up,

“I saw you in that fight. Are you ex-military?”

Jason nodded.

“I was a Captain in Number Two PARA; Second Battalion, Parachute Regiment.”

The Marine was impressed.

“That was you guys in the Falklands wasn’t it?”

“Yes, it was.”

The five Marines huddled together in a quiet but important discussion; they respected the reputation of the elite British Army Regiment and came to an agreement. The Marine held out his hand to Jason.

“If you’re willing, we’d like you to take charge. We’re not long out of boot camp.”

Jason didn’t particularly want to lead this new larger group, but he could see in the Marines’ eyes that that was exactly what they were hoping for. Jason was forced to accept that the role of leader had been thrust upon him once again. Reluctantly, he opened the discussion about their immediate futures.