Man-Kzin Wars XII by Larry Niven (books you have to read .TXT) 📕

“Nice friend,” 13 says under his breath.

I shoot 13 a quick glare and shake my head. He needs to keep his cool.

“I don't know what's up with him. Sorry about that,” Atom apologizes again.

“Don't worry about it.” I put my hand on his shoulder. “Things have gotten crazy here, haven't they? I saw that Grant is gone.”

“Things are different. The timetable has moved up, and everyone is stressing out over it.” Atom stares out toward the city.

“Did they say when they moved the timetable up to?” 13 leans in. I shake my head at him again. I'd rather he not ask those kinds of questions, though I am curious to hear Atom's response.

“No one has told me an exact date, but I'm sure Rene knows.” Atom seems as disappointed by this answer as I feel.

“So, he's still planning on setting off the nukes.” I think out loud.

“He is. I hope it works.” Atom pauses, as if reeling at his own words.

13 and I stare at him, dumbfounded by what he said. I'm about to lash out at him when he changes the subject. “So, what have they got you guys doing?”

I stop myself from referencing what he said and realize that I need to keep calm if I hope to change his mind about the Ragnarok. “13 and I have been overseeing the cleanup and reconstruction here at the compound. We also volunteered to patrol the outsiders in the city.”

I feel 13's eyes on the back of my head. I'm not sure if he can tell that I'm lying, but he is surprised by my answer either way.

“Why would you volunteer? You're safer here,” Atom presses.

“To protect you, of course.” 13 can't hide the sarcasm in his voice.

I'm not sure if he's trying to play along with my lie or if he's showing animosity toward Atom. Either way, I can't risk him saying something detrimental to my plans.

“That's enough, 13!” I raise my voice at him. “Go back to your bunker. We'll talk later.”

13 heads down the pile and toward the bunkers, leaving Atom and me alone. The awkward silence we are faced with makes me realize why we each brought a friend. We needed the comfort of someone familiar. The heaviness of the Ragnarok weighs over us. We are both aware of what the different outcomes mean. Earlier today, we enjoyed the fantasy of what our friendship once was, but now reality is ready to slap us both in the face.

“So it sounds like you agree with what the scientists are doing now.” Pain and fear accompany my words. My death has never felt closer, even though I've been face to face with it many times before.

“I don't know. This last attack was savage, and from how you described what you experienced, I just don't see any hope for improvement.” Atom sighs his words out. It's as difficult for him to speak his words as it is for me to hear them.

“But what gives you—I mean the scientists—the right to decide their fate? It's genocide,” I say before I can help it. My emotions are getting the better of me.

He appears startled, and stares at me as he searches for an answer.

“I didn't mean to yell.” I take a deep breath “It's been a long and stressful day. I'm sorry.”

“Yes, it has. Maybe we should call it a night.” He stands and wipes his hands on his pants.

“There is something I want to talk to you about, but we can do it later.” I still plan to convince him to stop the Ragnarok, but tonight got off to a bad start with Cal and 13, and it doesn't feel like the right time. I get up and head down the rubble pile.

“Sounds good.” Atom joins me at the bottom.

I place my hand on his shoulder, and he smiles back at me. We are both changed from what we were before. I don't see us being friends like then, but I'm glad for those memories. Especially since they are the first memories I recall.

I turn and head toward the barracks. I want to apologize to 13 before I head to the scientists' quarters to see Pocket and Paz. I feel bad sending him away like I did, even if I don't regret it.

He's chatting with a couple of other Integers near our quarters when I find him. We laugh about the incident on the rubble pile, and I'm grateful that he's brushed it off and understood my frustration. After twenty or so minutes, I dismiss myself to see Pocket.

“Tell her I say hi,” 13 yells out to me as I'm walking away. It's weird to hear him say that. It was just a few weeks ago that he almost killed her when he found me in KJ's home. He's come a long way.

The memory of that day, the first day that I met Pocket and the rest of KJ's family, stings my heart. Their smiling faces sitting around the dinner table etched in my mind. The pain my heart feels is so immeasurable that I stop walking to take a few deep breaths.

When I realize the pain that Pocket must be feeling at having lost her family, my knees buckle, and I stumble to the ground. My hands shake, and my breaths quicken to the point of not being able to breathe. Pocket and I are similar in that we have known so little but have lost so much.

“Are you okay?” A woman's voice speaks up next to me. I must have been struggling so much that I didn't notice she had walked up.

I steady myself up to my feet, calming my breathing as I do, and I get a good look at her. She's tall, and has a weathered face, but her hair is hard to miss. It's long, with black and white small streaks. It's as if her head couldn't decide which color it preferred better.

“Yes, sorry,” I stammer.

“It's quite alright.