The ANZACs: A Lesson in History

[2206 | Interrogation]

“February, 2206” flashes up on the feed. One year has passed. Chance is malnourished, shackled to a chair in her cell, which is guarded by a forcefield. Her body is bruised, battered and torn from the twelve months of torture she has endured. As the forcefield comes down, Chance doesn’t even bother trying to escape.

“When you are next attacked by the enemy, let your fireteam die,” was the instruction given to her by her Colonel. “Then surrender to the enemy.”

One thing Chance’s training had taught her over the years is to never question your commanding officer, so she didn’t. Nor did she have to, with the last words uttered by the Colonel to her being “Trust me, you will win us the war.”

A large guard comes barreling into Chance’s cell. He enters a key into the back of her chair, releasing the shackles, and drags her out of the cell. For the first eight months, Chance has been fighting. She fought the guard. The guard fought back. In the early days, reinforcements were required. Then, as the Sergeant grew weaker, reinforcements weren’t required. Now, Sergeant Aurora Chance doesn’t have the strength to fight. Every day, she loses the strength to endure the torture. She is aware that one of these days, it must end. She fears that day might be today.

The guard drags Chance into the interrogation room, and shackles her arms and legs to chains. Turning his back to her, like he has, each and every day this past year, he punches instructions into a console sitting against the wall. The chains tighten, stretched by gears pulling them in separate directions. As they pull against Chance’s arms and legs, lifting her limp body into the air. Her muscles hurt, her bones feel like they are about ready to pop out of her sockets, but she’s used to this by now.

“How long’s it been, Sergeant Chance?” a voice booms from the speaker. It is Her Eminence. “How long has it been since you’ve seen your children?”

“A year,” Chance says quietly. To this day, she’s not certain that Her Eminence can hear her answers, but determines that if you’re interrogating somebody, you’re going to want to hear the answers they provide.

“By my count, it would be about a year, would it not? A year since you were captured, a year since we were told that you have the key to bringing the Farm back online.” As Her Eminence speaks, Chance shakes her head, struggling to know if she’s been heard. “But today’s your lucky day.”

For the first time in the last year, as her body is being pulled in all directions by the chains, Chance looks up. A holographic image appears, showing the Auckland Education Institute, a towering skyscraper housing thousands of the city’s children. Of these thousands, two of them call Sergeant Aurora Chance “Mum.”

“That’s my school!” Alexa exclaims.

“That was not a question,” Nanny responds. “That was an interruption. It has been noted.”

Alexa watches as a second hologram joins the first, this time displaying the institute from a different angle. The image on the first hologram zooms in on the eighty-first story, where Quinn Chance’s class sits. The second zooms in on the forty-fifth floor, where Madalyn Chance undertakes her schooling. The view of the walls changes to infrared imagery inside the classes. Thirteen-year-old Quinn is doing his best to distract himself rather than listen to his teacher, while six-year-old Madalyn is intent on listening to each and every word.

“As you can see, your dear husband has been doing a marvellous job of getting the kids to school each morning,” Her Eminence says. “Naturally, it makes your kids sitting ducks for the mechs we have surrounding the institute.

“You wouldn’t.”

“Killing kids unnecessarily is most certainly frowned upon. But, as I am sure you would agree, I’ve been patient these last twelve months. I deem this necessary, so you had better believe I would.”

“You fucking bitch!”

“You have ten seconds.”

Chance is not willing to talk. She has been tasked with ending this war, not handing the win to the enemies.

“Ten.

“Nine.

Eight.

Seven.”

Chance’s heart rate increases. Her mind is racing, trying to find a way out of this situation.

“Six.

“Five.

There is no way out. Chance is certain of it.

“Four.

“Three.”

“Two.”

There is really no way out of this. Either Chance sacrifices her children, or loses the war.

“One.”

The choice is simple. “Okay, I’ll talk!” As simple a choice where one of the outcomes is single-handedly losing a war, that is.

“Stand by, team. It appears our argument has won Sergeant Chance over.”

“It’s nano-EMPs, housed in a chamber. They constantly feed off each other, fuelling each other, expanding the electromagnetic pulse throughout the country.”

“Where is it?”

“It’s housed in that damn tower you installed,” Chance growls at Her Eminence. “You build with independent contractors, you run the risk of them accepting payment from interested parties. Oh yeah, it’s indestructible, isn’t it? Yeah, good luck with that.”

The YutopiCorp Tower was built, replacing the Lambert Geographical Centre of Australia. Once a tourist destination for those excited to hit the dead centre of the country, it is now a monument to the greatness of YutopiCorp, letting everybody know who this island belongs to.

“Pull back,” Her Eminence orders the mechs. Finally, acknowledging Chance’s commentary for the first time, she says “Nothing is indestructible.”