The Year's Best Science Fiction: Twenty-Sixth Annual Collection by Gardner Dozois

Author:Gardner Dozois
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Tags: Anthologies (multiple authors), Science fiction, Short Stories, Fiction, Science Fiction, American, English, General, Short stories
ISBN: 9780312551049
Publisher: Macmillan
Published: 2009-06-23T06:51:12.671000+00:00

______

“Wake up, Nikomedes.” A hand shook him.

Before he was completely awake, Max deflected the hand and turned the wrist. He snapped alert quick enough to stop before he broke it. Major Georgiev bent over him. “What?”

“We’re passing through the outskirts of Lost Angeles—it’s night, the city’s big enough to hide most of us.”

“What’s the plan? There are bars welded on the windows, and the doors are locked.” He’d watched younger men waste themselves for hours trying to find a way out, everything from tearing through the panels to breaking windows. One of them had been cut badly on broken glass. Wind whistled through the broken windows; combined with the night temperatures, it would have chilled the ride to the point of hypothermia if not for the warmth of the bodies jammed together.

“We’re going to rock the bus, tip it over,” Georgiev said. “I could use your help organizing these kids.”

Max straightened in his seat. “Tipping the bus—that will get us out how?”

“They’ll have to empty the bus then. We’ll overpower them, make a break for it.”

“You’re on your own.” He leaned back again.

“To think that I was ever inspired by you,” Georgiev sneered. “You’re a coward.”

And you’re a fool, Max wanted to respond. He had nothing against escape, but suicide? “Don’t play into their hands.”

“This morning,” Georgiev said, looking around, “we were all part of an organization, each of us knowing our role and function. Tonight we are starving, thirsty outcasts, deprived of basic necessities. But we’re still men, we have to do something.”

There were murmurs of “amen” and “witness” from the men around them.

“Don’t you think Intelligence’s purpose is to reduce and dispirit us?” Max asked.

“Yes, but—”

“So what do you think they’ll do to anyone who goes against their intentions early on?” Max asked. “What would your response be? To anyone who tries to lead?”

Georgiev said nothing.

“You would destroy the ring leaders as an example,” Max said, answering his own question. “And first you would create a situation where you expect people to step up, just so you can make examples of them. It’s what I would do.”

“I’m not you,” Georgiev said. “And I believe this is all a mistake. Those are our fellow soldiers out there, our brothers and cousins. If we force them to pay attention to us, they’ll listen. And if they don’t, we’ll overwhelm them.”

Murmurs of “yeah” and “they have to listen.”

“You’ve been hit in the face and burned and you still say that?” Max said, leaning back in his seat. “We save ourselves. No purge lasts forever.”

“You’re pathetic,” Georgiev said and turned away.

Vasily, hand at the invisible cross at his throat, stared at Max, shook his head, and followed Georgiev.

Georgiev had no trouble organizing the men: he was the senior officer on board and soldiers were trained to love a hierarchy, taught to do something instead of nothing. After explaining his plan to tip the bus, he said, “All right, on the count of three, we all throw ourselves to starboard. Is that clear?

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