Murder of Crows (Book One of The Icarus Trilogy) (30 page)

History would not remember him poorly.  History would not remember him.

Even if he were to buy back his freedom no one would celebrate.  What was left of his family would have moved on or most likely would be dead by the time he could afford it.  He had no real friends outside of his compatriots, and even they were more like coworkers.  The Crows could relate to each other while bound in misery and they had to spend time together, but Jenkins couldn’t see himself sharing his life with these men outside of their current circumstances.  None of these men would truly mourn his passing.  They would just mourn a reminder of their own suffering.

The young Crow couldn’t help the groan escaping from his throat.  It had been so long since his sadness or emotion had been vocalized and he was not in the mindset to stop it.  This realization was so much worse than the others.  He wasn’t just stuck on the asteroid. 

He had nowhere else to go.

Jenkins heard a knock on his door and wondered who it could be.  He quickly realized there were only two or three likely candidates, and that he didn’t particularly want to talk to them while he was so enamored with his self-pity.  The young Crow opened his eyes against the pillow and examined the threads holding the case together.  He heard the visitor slowly knocking again and realized that they weren’t going to go away without a decent attempt.  Jenkins rolled over and brought himself to his feet before walking over to the entrance.  The slave soldier breathed out heavily and opened the door to see Feldman’s massive face hovering above him.  A two-day beard was scattered across the giant’s face, already lending more shadow to the man.  Jenkins blinked slowly and stood back away from the frame.

“Hey, Feldman.  What do you need?”  The titan looked at him and tilted his head.  His brown eyes were filled with that familiar sadness underneath heavy eyelids and he bit his lip slightly.  Jenkins could tell the man had plenty on his mind, as always.

“I wanted to talk to you, Ryan.”  The smaller soldier could see the concern in the giant’s eyes and wondered if he wanted to talk back.  He sighed, walked to his bed and sat himself down.

“What do you want to talk about?”  Feldman stood awkwardly in the doorway for a second before stooping down so he could fit through.  He walked over to Jenkins’ desk and propped himself up against the plastic frame.  It was about the right height for the titan.

“I know you’re upset but I want you to know that it doesn’t have to be like that.  We don’t have to make our hearts and our minds hard like this.  I know it’s tempting,” the giant said before looking at the floor.  Jenkins could tell the soldier was not saying this just to feel better about his own situation; it was enough to pull on the smaller man’s heartstrings.  The giant looked back up and pursed his lips.

“I’ve watched you change a lot since that first month of training.  I know you’ve seen a lot of things and learned a lot about this asteroid.  But I’m hoping that it doesn’t change you completely,” Feldman said before taking a long, deep breath.  “One of the major reasons I’ve spoken to you more than anyone else here is that you have potential to not give in.  You don’t have to be like the rest of them.  They sleepwalk through their lives, Ryan,” the giant said before looking back down at his feet.  He was having difficulty thinking how he was going to arrange his speech in just the right way.  Jenkins had to know that he had a friend and that there was hope.  Feldman steeled his resolve and lifted his gaze back to the silent soldier.

“The last thing I want for you is to let yourself fall into a living oblivion.  Our lives are difficult, but humanity has had to deal with its dark times before.  Things could always be worse.  We just need to seize our lives for ourselves and not let our circumstances destroy our worth.  I want you to take that to heart, Ryan,” the giant said, looking his friend in the eye.  He hoped it was enough to sway the smaller Crow.  He hoped he could bring the man back from that pit of despair.  Jenkins looked back at him and shook his head.

“Feldman, you’re a great guy; it’s pretty obvious to anyone who knows you,” Jenkins said, not bothering to use the man’s first name.  “But how do you do it?  You’re deluding yourself.  You read your history texts and how humanity gets back on track and don’t understand that there are thousands and millions of people who are just stepped on.  They don’t have stories; they don’t have great ideas or grand moments.  They just live, they get trampled on and they die.  But most of the time the trampling isn’t what kills them,” Jenkins said before shifting around to face his body towards the giant. 

“Time gets that honor.  They get broken and messed up and have to live with that for the rest of their lives.  And you don’t seem to realize that it’s happened to us.  In the end we’re all just little corporate slaves with nowhere to go.  Even when we get out there’s no place for us.  We’re broken.  We’re trampled.  And to top it all off, we just don’t
matter
.”  Jenkins looked down at his feet and shook his head.  He turned back to his friend with a blank face.  The absent tears were what hurt Feldman the most.

“Really, Greg, how do you do it?  How do keep your head up so high and how do you justify your existence here?  You’re a giant with a penchant for academia built for war by a corporation.  And just so you know, this isn’t an attack.  I just want to know how you can live here like you do without realizing that it’s all for nothing.”  Jenkins looked away from his friend and to the blank wall near his bed.  Feldman could see the young Crow was so far gone already.  The giant had underestimated what this place would do to the new recruit.  Feldman let his sadness overcome him for a moment and let the desk hold him up; he had really wanted to avert this for Jenkins.

“I know that,” the giant said while continuing to look at the floor.  “I know that in the end we don’t matter.  We’re inconsequential and in reality nothing is waiting for us.  No one is going to reward us for being the best people we could be.  No one is going to care if we hold our heads high or refuse to let ourselves die willingly.  I know that the millions of people on this world are meant for nothing, most likely.  This isn’t something I haven’t taken into account,” Feldman said before looking back to face the smaller man.  Jenkins had turned back to look at his friend and Feldman could see the sorrow haunting his eyes.  Feldman breathed in and continued.  He had to say this; he had to let someone know his reasons for being the man he wanted to be.

“I don’t do this for anyone, Jenkins.  I don’t do this to impress people or for people to call me a hero.  I don’t swing my sword for money or fame; I don’t care about that.  It doesn’t matter to me that history will move on without me.  I am who I am and I have my ideals because that’s what makes me proud of myself.  I hold myself to a higher standard because that’s what I
want
from myself.  I justify my existence by being the best thing I could possibly be.  I don’t want a reward.  I don’t want approval.  The most I would ever want is that my example for behavior is enough for just one man,” Feldman said while narrowing his eyes, “for just
one
man to allow himself to be a better version of himself.”  The giant heaved himself off of the desk and looked down at his friend from his lofty perspective.

“I shout my character out to the universe.  I allow myself to be an example for others, and it is enough that I may hear echoes.  That is how I justify myself, Jenkins.  And I really do hope you can understand that,” Feldman said before stooping underneath the doorway and walking away.  Jenkins looked after the giant as he departed and wondered how such a man could really exist.  Again, he wanted to follow in Feldman’s footsteps and be a better version of himself.

But this time he knew that he couldn’t.

Carver ate his oatmeal with no thoughts of consequence.  His new beard was starting to itch and he was doing his best not to let it bother him.  He off-handedly scratched his cheek and dug his spoon back into the gray matter.

No one tended to sit around the veteran.  Some were scared but most were just uncomfortable around the man.  Not only did he have his status as a legendary soldier, but he was just so old in comparison.  The young Crows just had nothing in common with the man.  Sometimes Carver would feel lonely, but he knew that the kids playing at war had nothing of consequence to say.  Most of the time the soldiers sat a few seats away from him; just far enough that the old Crow wasn’t bothered by their idle chat.  It was the most comfortable arrangement they could really make.

Carver was drawing out the spoon from his mouth when he noticed Jenkins walking towards him.   The young Crow sat down opposite the old soldier and gave a nod of courtesy to the veteran.  Carver returned it and watched as Jenkins started to lazily eat the food off of his tray.  Finding nothing of interest the old Crow looked back down at his oatmeal and lifted up another morsel of tasteless muck.

They ate like that for a time.  Only after a few minutes did Carver turn his attention back to the new soldier and watch the man eat.  The boy in front of him seemed even more lifeless and dejected from the last time he had spoken to Carver.  The veteran sighed and interlaced his fingers underneath his chin.

“Tell me about it,” Carver said in his usual brusque manner.  He knew some didn’t appreciate it but he knew Jenkins wasn’t one of them.  It was just one of the ways in which they held their mutual respect.  Jenkins looked at him for a moment, wiped his lips with the back of his hand and then cleared his throat.

“Why do you want to know?  It’s just another pile of shit,” the boy said.  Carver could tell that Jenkins wasn’t just trying to brush off the conversation and that’s what unnerved the veteran; the young Crow really was indifferent to the ordeal.  Carver furrowed his brow and shrugged.

“It’s on your mind.  I want to make sure it’s not affecting you.  Talking about it helps,” he said before grabbing at his glass of water.  He hated drinking anything flavored for breakfast.  It was too much to handle at the beginning of the day.

“Roberts’ condition.  That was a lot of it, but now I’m just becoming more…. familiar with my situation.  Just more shit to deal with.  You understand,” Jenkins said before leaning back from the table.  Carver could tell that there was something more on the soldier’s mind.  And while Roberts’ little painkiller addiction certainly had a place in the young Crow’s thoughts, Carver knew that Jenkins was bothered by something more personal.

“I’m sorry, kid.  That’s just part of it.  If it helps any,” Carver said before reaching for his spoon, “It’s not horrible.  The more you deal with it, the easier it becomes to deal with it.  Obviously I have a lot of experience here,” he said as his cheek started to itch again.  The old Crow wouldn’t let himself scratch it during this conversation.  “As the years go on, it just starts to feel like a job.  Just like anything else that people are doing these days.  I know some people gripe about their work the same way that we complain about warfare.  People get used to all kinds of situations, and if you let it, this place becomes bearable.”  Carver ate another spoonful of oatmeal and realized that he was no longer hungry.  The conversation topic wasn’t helping, but he attacked his breakfast again.  The veteran knew it was just his brain fooling his stomach and that he should just ignore it.

“I think that’s what I’m afraid of.”  Carver looked up to see Jenkins holding up his head with his right hand.  He wasn’t looking at Carver; he was just staring off into space.  Carver looked at the boy and sighed; they were more alike than he had thought.

“I can understand that.  I was, too.”  Carver went back to eating his breakfast and wondered why he had let his life turn out like this.  The old Crow couldn’t help the boy if it was parallel to his own failures. 

The veteran thought about the day he had joined up for the games.  Carver had just been dishonorably discharged and he was looking for work.  He had no experience in any real profession.  When he saw the Trade Union flashing their magnificent advertisements for recruitment into the games, Carver saw it as a golden opportunity.

The old Crow looked at his oatmeal and wanted to knock out his younger self.

-

Jenkins stared at the mass of clouds overhead and thought about this new world of his.  It was practically smog up there.  The scientists had loaded down the atmosphere with a massive amount of oxygen and nitrogen and other binding elements.  The gray clouds stretched out above him, but he could see one of the other asteroids off to the left.  Jenkins guessed it was Solaria from the orange pigment, but he had never really studied the asteroids.  He didn’t know how they were kept together; he didn’t know why he didn’t float off every time he jumped.  It depressed him that he knew so little about his prison.

The young Crow was in the training yard lying against one of the weight benches.  Feldman had not been so keen to keep up their training practices after their confrontation and Jenkins didn’t blame him.  The young Crow had not meant to be so harsh to the giant and Jenkins could see where Feldman was coming from, but he just couldn’t follow the giant anymore.  Jenkins was beyond the ideals of hope that Feldman possessed.

Now he was alone in the courtyard and staring at the sky.  Jenkins didn’t want to know anything from the news networks.  He didn’t want to read.  He didn’t want to watch any shows.  If anything he just didn’t want to be awake, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep.  So Jenkins just watched the cloud formations overhead as they passed and wondered at the science behind it to distract him in between sets of weight lifting.  After a few sets of exercises the time set aside for distractions became more plentiful than his time exercising.  He just couldn’t bring himself to lift the heavy iron weights.