Peace: internal war

I ask questions and for them I receive answers. An Exo always gets answers: anyone who has met one of us tells us the truth because they know what happens if they don’t. But the results are messy, dangerous and draw too much attention. It is why I’m wearing a gir. Technically illegal in over a dozen intersellar unions, the gir hides is clothing that one can hide behind. An illusion so perfect almost no scanner can penetrate it. There are assassins who would bankrupt worlds for one. All I had to do was save a life for such a gift.

He is in a bar by the time my questions lead me toward him. What would have taken minutes takes almost an hour, but I am not pressed to threaten or to murder in the process. It is, I think, worth the effort. The bar is small, ill-kept, a dive near the first colony base built here on Brekwell IV. There are no other worlds in the system, so I’ve no idea why it’s called that. The world does have one moon and a sun but isn’t much to speak of beyond that. The bar suits if perfectly. He does not. There aren’t any locals in such a place, but most of the inhabitants boast chitin and claws, or at the very least scales.

I walk over. “I was told to see you for lessons, if you are Jay.”

He looks over at me. He is twenty three. I know this, without knowing how. It is nothing I smell, noting any of the machines inside my body tell me. It is simply a fact.

“Depends on what you wish to know.”

“How to defend myself without fighting. How to fight without killing. They say you know of such things.” I don’t quite make it a question. “You have no fur, no claws, not even fangs.”

“No, I don’t.”

“And you are – I am afraid I do not know your species?”

“Oh, this body is human. They’ve been extinct for some time. I think a few colonies are left, scattered throughout the galaxies, but none have a form like this any longer. Sometimes I get nostalgic, though I hope it’s a good kind of nostalgia.”

I name a price. Even quietly, I hear people around us hush. You could buy this world for the price I offer.

Jay sips his drink and look at me. “That’s more than lessons.”

“I am being hunted. The hunters are... persistent. I would rather they did not die.”

“Ah.” Jay stands, barely coming up past my waist even under the gir. I try and keep the form the same as my own, at least in terms of size. “You may consider me interested, but it might be best if we continue this outside?”

There are four people outside that were not there when I entered. Hired weapons disguised as people. Mercenaries for sale to any bidder.

“You can go,” Jay says to them. “I’m Jay, and this one is my friend.”

The weapons don’t move. Two increase their charges.

“.... you’ve never heard of me, have you?” Jay says to me.

“Just as a teacher?”

“Huh. Well, I devoted a lot of time to not being noticed, trying to avoid being known. Sometimes being forgotten has costs.” All four hit the ground. I never even see Jay move. One body, the next,. the last two at once, heads bouncing off of plasteel flooring. Jay walks on past them without looking down.

I follow, slower. “What are you?”

“Jay. The what is complicated. You can say that I, too, am wearing a gir if you want to?”

I stop dead.

He turns and smiles. His smile is an undeserved kindness. I can feel the weight of my ancestors lift from my shoulders under it. “An Exo that does not wish to murder is reason enough for me to accept this venture. Do you have a name?”

“Exo-10063.

“Exoten it is then. If it helps, you can think of me as s hingari?”

“I don’t know what that is.”

“They inspired the gir. Or were killed to make the first ones, I believe. Shape-chapgers. There were so many wars: against them, to use them. Even I don’t know how many remain, but few enough that an Exo doesn’t know of them. You were made with information about threats and how to deal with them, yes?”

“An Exo is made for war, no matter what else we do. It is hard to find another path when every instinct carries death.”

“Some people never see the path they are on. I’ve always wondered if that makes them luckier. Those who do tend to have more trouble leaving it.”

“Do you? See your path, I mean?”

He chuckles. “I used to, long ago. I was jaysome when I was younger.”

I was made for war. To destroy, to decimate, to bring about the end of things. I am almost ten steps away from Jay before I catch myself, feet skidding to a halt. I run subroutines, and other ones. Flagging the word ‘jaysome’, finding routines older still. I turn back, and stare down at Jay. “I did not know until this moment that I had any commands that were ‘run away’. I watched every star in the Olkar Cluster burn and I did not run. I was once a medic on a ship falling into a black hole. I did not run.”

“I have put a lot of effort into being forgotten. I’d like to think it wasn’t vanity that I wasn’t thorough enough.” He does not move.

“You are that dangerous?”

“When I have to be. Who is after you, Exoten?”

“A dozen Exo units. There are few of us left. We were made for war, but not to survive the wars we were placed in. Some of those who remain seek revenge on the worlds that made us. And to recruit the rest into their cause. I refused. I was forced to kill two of my own in the refusal. They did not expect it, but a medic knows things about war that even other Exo do not. I have seen enough of my kind dead to know how to win. I do not wish to kill the others.”

“Huh. The gir will hide you for a time, but they aren’t as perfect as advertised. Even the hingari never were. They’re gone too,” he says softly. “I can do a mean impression of the Sable Emperor, you know. No one even remembers that there was one. Space is big, time passes.” He looks up at me. “Why did you become a medic?”

“Because I was selfish. I wanted to prove to myself that an Exo didn’t have to be about war. Instead I saw more wars than most of my kind ever have. I survived when many did not. I kept patients alive who might have died. I’d like to think it balances out in the end. The lie, the lives. My fleeing, their salvation.” I fall silent. I’ve never said half of that aloud before.

“You were a medic, but only in wars. Seeking peace is a different thing, both internal and external.” Our path has taken us outside the port, across the empty plains between the mining outposts. I am an Exo: we were made to survive. Jay is not, but I am somehow not surprise he’s wandering airless vacuum without harm. “Peace is always more than not fighting, Exoten. Sometimes one has to fight for peace, or to preserve it, or even so that it happens at all. But it is not achieved by fighting, as one does not achieve virginity by fucking. It is easy to forget that. To see the path as the map, to see the road as the destination.”

“Then what do I do?”

“You run. You never stop running. If you are wise, you never look back. You do what you can: offer medicine to small colonies, to minor worlds. Do nothing to be noticed, leave no mark in history. To achieve peace is to be forgotten, or at least remembered in only gentle ways.”

He looks up before my sensors notice the subspace rift. “Twenty is more than a dozen Exo,” he says. Four hurl down, tracking the gir. I shed it, but not fast enough. To make a transit on a world would damage it. Without it, I am a machine standing, glittering dark in the darkness. It takes so much effort not to power up my weapons. Twenty is too many. Even twelve was. No matter what I do, this world would burn.

Jay walks up into the sky. Every weapon that fires hits another Exo, no matter the target they aim at. It is almost twenty volleys before they stop, and then Jay is beside me on the ground. He is no longer smiling.

“You came because you heard stories about me. That I could protect from any foe. That I would, for the right person, the right cause. I gave you a chance, even then, to tell me the truth. To survive falling into a black hole is a rare thing on many spacecraft these days. You’d need to put everything into the engines, forgo life support. How many died when you fled the Olkar Cluster, Exoten? How many were on the craft when you ignited the engines, fled the black hole as everyone entrusted to your care died?”

“Eighty six.” The words come out, forced.

“They are not here about recruitment, Exoten.”

“No. Justice.” This time my voice is only my own.

“I have told them that your death will bring no justice.” Jay smiles, and this smile is a gentleness that never needs to compromise, a quiet so deep it never has to shout. “Atonement is not peace, but it is what they agreed to. You will answer to the last wishes of all who died under your care. You will bring them peace, and only then will you ever find your own.”

And that becomes the truth. he strips everything away with words. Every weapon, every desire. All that makes me an Exo is unhomed, unbound, ripped naked in the fact of truth.

“You – you said peace was an internal struggle,” I get out. I am crying. I was never meant to cry. The dead are about me, whispering judgements, demanding release.

“I did. I’m just helping it along, that’s all.” He smiles, and this smile is for the dead and not for me at all as he turns and walks away.

I try to speak, but the dead speak over me. I try to run, but there is nowhere to run to. They will have their peace, no matter what it does to me.

And I do not know what will come after it, but all I can hope is that I never meet Jay again.