Why Humans Avoid War

Byem POV

Sometimes, I wondered why it needed us. Machines fared much better at manual labor anyways. My best guess was there was a limit to how many tasks it could concentrate on at once.

Yet again, I found myself hating the Master, loathing my existence. A fog of exhaustion pressed down on me as always; it had been days since I last slept. A part of me wanted to curl up onto the ground and let it all fade to black. To have peace at last.

My breath came in ragged gasps, and sweat beaded on my forehead. The insulation of the vac suit kept the frigid cold of the ice planet out, but it kept my own heat expenditures in as well.

I glanced over at my son, Kel, who was helping me push a tub of iron ore toward the mining tunnel's lift. I could fight through the pain and the weariness for him. The poor boy, born into an unforgiving world, to know nothing but servitude. He needed his father around, if only to feel a touch of love and warmth.

A strange sense of déjà vu gripped my mind a moment before it happened. Without warning, the ground shook beneath my feet, and stalactites started to rain from above. It must have been some sort of tectonic activity. Most planets did not experience the phenomenon, but we knew for the ones that did, it could wreak havoc on artificial structures. We had to leave the mine now, before we were buried alive.

A scream echoed from further down the tunnel, pleading for help. I recognized the voice of Kel's girlfriend, words laced with pain. My son turned in the direction of her call, and I could picture the worry creasing his face through the opaque helmet.

"Dad? I'll be right back, you go on." Kel dashed off, before I could make an attempt to stop him.

Terror coursed through my veins. "Kel? Kel!"

I distantly felt a hand grip my shoulder, and the mine dissolved into darkness. My eyes blinked open, back on the strange ship. The pale creature, who called himself "Rykov", was standing over me. His expression seemed concerned.

I rubbed the sore spot behind my ear, where they had injected me with a language implant. The ridges of a thin scar pressed against my fingers. It served as confirmation that the events of the past day were real, and not some fevered dream.

"Are you okay?" Rykov asked. "You were talking in your sleep, and you sounded upset."

I sighed, images of my son still flitting through my mind. "I'm fine. It was just a bad dream."

He nodded, pausing for a moment. "Who is Kel?"

"Kel..." I closed my eyes, trying not to cry. "He's my son. He's dead."

"I'm sorry. I know what that's like." He grimaced, as though in pain. "It's the worst thing a parent can ever go through."

"You lost a child?"

"Yes. My youngest daughter, Alina. She was only three when the cancer took her. It's an awful disease that turns your own body against you. She fought so hard, through so much pain. We did everything we could, but none of the treatments did a damned thing. I know she would have had so much to offer the world, if only she had the chance."

"I'm sorry, Rykov. So young..." A tear trickled down my cheek. "Kel was my only son. There was an earthquake, and our mines were collapsing. He ran back in to save his girlfriend. Maybe if I had gone with him, it would have played out differently, but I fled like a coward. He never made it out. What kind of a father am I?"

His frown deepened. "You can't blame yourself, Byem. I've fallen into that trap myself. It's not your fault. Sometimes, there's just nothing you can do."

I heard a jingling sound, and felt his hands lock firmly around my left wrist. I watched as he inserted a pin into the manacle, and with a click, the band came unclasped. The skin where the restraint had been was chafed, a dark violet hue lingering in its place.