Legacy's Ghost

Episode 5: You've Come a Long Way

I grab my tablet and shuffle into line behind Trina and the blond boy—Oliver—who sat behind me.

Oliver whispers in Trina's ear and she giggles. What did he say to make her face light up like that?

Someone shoves me from behind, knocking me into Oliver and Trina. "Move, freak."

"Sorry," I mumble to the two in front of me, then glance over my shoulder to see who shoved me.

At eighteen, Rigel is at least a head taller than me. He's twice my width with arms the size of my thigh, and the start of a scraggly beard on his chin.

I've seen him around the treeouses. Everybody knows to stay out of Rigel's way. He is the oldest of the Legacy Army, or L.A. group, which is the Trinity leg that focuses on warfare and defense of the Legacy colony.

When the current Trinity, consisting of one Ghost, one L.A., and one PPN, or People of Peace and Nature group, disbands everyone expects Rigel to represent the L.A.'s.

But a new Trinity could happen tomorrow, or a hundred and fifty years from now. No one ever knows. A Trinity works and rules together until one person dies or becomes unable to do their part. Then the other two members step down, making room for a new Trinity ruling class.

This current group has led our colony for twenty years now.

Rigel's lips twist into a scowl, and his dark brown eyes narrow. I've seen that face before. It usually comes just before he pummels someone to a pulp.

"S-sorry," I mumble, then step out of line, letting Rigel storm ahead of me, pushing his way through Trina and Oliver.

"Hey!" Trina says, when he pushes her out of the way.

Rigel stops mid-stride and turns around, towering over Trina. "Did you say something, little girl?"

Trina plants her hands on her hips. Red hair hanging down to her waist, the twelve-year-old girl glares up at the eighteen-year-old man-child.

"You're not being nice, Rigel. We're people too," she says.

Rigel rolls his eyes. "You're not considered people until you grow boobies."

Trina's eyes widened. "Yeah, well you're not consider people until you grow a personality."

Fear snakes through me with each pulse of Rigel's jaw. I slowly crouch, preparing to jump between Rigel and Trina if I need to.

Trina is too nice to take whatever Rigel is about to throw at her, and I've been beat up plenty of times. At least I know what to expect.

Rigel's hand fists into balls. He cocked his arm back as if to punch her, and I crouch lower. I'm about to spring, but Mr. Francois clears his throat.

"Rigel," he says, his accented voice sharp as a knife. "Everyone is waiting for you. Move to the safety of the tunnels, or step aside and let the rest of us pass."

Rigel narrows his eyes at Trina. "We'll talk about this later." Then he spins on his heel and stomps away.

Trina slumps and her eyes fill with tears. Her body shakes like a leaf.

Oliver puts an arm around her shoulders and dips his head to look in her eyes. "You alright?"

Mr. Francois clears his throat and motions with this had to Trina, saying in a softer tone, "We need to keep moving, mademoiselle."

Oliver furrows his brows. "Go ahead, Trina. I'll protect you. That reject Rigel can't take us both on at the same time."

I follow the group to the evacuation tunnels. It's not the first time I've been here, and it certainly won't be the last.

For some reason when the first Trinity made the treaty with the Swarm, they agreed to let all fighting occur in waves. The Swarm attacks during a certain season, and we attack them during a certain season.

To what end, I'm not really sure. Maybe they'll talk about it in these classes I'm now taking. But I think the idea was to minimize casualties and to avoid fighting during the planet's winter season which would killed everyone on both sides.

It also means that we're constantly under a barrage of attacks three months out of the year. In another three months, the LA's will wage war on the Swarm.

The tunnels open up into a massive cavern filled with red and purple stalactites dripping from the ceiling until they nearly touch the ground. The cavern is well-equipped by now, of course. We've been here so many times.

Beds are carved into the walls with blankets and pillows folded in nice stacks at the foot of each mattress.

Miniature caverns are cordoned off for eating, supplies, and medical. There is even an area for playing where kids play with a ball when they have time. Wally soccer or wall ball or handball, or any other games we discovered from books scanned onto databases about old Earth life.

The further into the caves we go, the more people there are.

Each time our group comes upon another group of colonists, their eyes follow the Trinity apprentices, and whispers follow. More than a few people gasp when they see me with the TAG. Some curse and spit at me, calling me names.

I try to break from the TAG to find a nice quiet area in the shadows where people won't stare at me. But our lovely French teacher watches me break from the group and clucks his tongue. "All apprentices stick together."

My shoulders droop and I fall back into line at the end of the group. I watch Rigel out of the corner of my eye. When your 6 foot six and 250 pounds it won't take much to hurt a 5-foot tall 75-pound child half his age.

It would be so easy for him to make it look like an accident too. Heaven knows plenty of people have made their attacks on me look like accidents. Why would Rigel be any different?

The teacher guides us from the main colony towards a small cavern off to the side. I don't recall ever seeing this cavern before. And I've been down here a lot.

Rigel stays at the front, right where he likes to be. He's a big kid with yellow hair, bulging muscles, and constantly scabbed knuckles. Some kids spend their free time studying so they do well in their exams. Rigel spends every square minute in the warfare room brushing up on technique or picking fights with other LA's.

Mr. Francois pulls back some sort of low-tech camouflage cloth, ushering us into a new cavern. I choose a spot off to the side, away from the rest of the TAGs, observing the group. It gives me a moment to reflect on recent events in the classroom.

How did I go from the lowest of the low, pinching food to survive and sleeping in doorways and window coves to becoming a Goul apprentice for the Trinity, the colony's ruling class?