On this Memorial Day, we honor the American soldiers who
gave their lives in the performance of their duty to defend this country.
We do so under a commander-in-chief who seems to care more
about ideology and politics than he does about the armed forces or national
security. Certainly more than justice or
fairness in honoring the soldiers who have devoted their lives to the service.
Our current president has seen fit to fire dedicated ranking
officers from command positions, replacing them with far less qualified
individuals, solely because the established commanders, though having served
with honor, did not conform to his ideological agenda. An agenda of white supremacism and
reactionary social policy.
Most notably, General CQ Brown Jr. Air Force chief of staff
in 2020, a man President Donald Trump once praised as a “Patriot and Great
Leader” was later fired as the Joint Chief of Staff by Trump, simply because Brown
dared speak out about his personal experiences as an African American in the
wake of George Floyd’s tragic death.
Trump insists on staffing the military command with
underqualified individuals solely because of their loyalty to him personally,
and their open contempt for social progress, equality, inclusion and
diversity.
More broadly, this president
has banned from military service anyone classified as transsexual, regardless
of the quality of their service records or dedication to duty. (This from a president who never served a day
of his life in the military and has openly disrespected courageous veterans
like John McCain.) The anti-trans
service ban was “justified” by a completely meritless claim that trans people
are incapable of meeting the military’s accession requirements, and lack the
“selflessness and humility” required for military service. (Selflessness and humility? ‘Can’t see Trump passing that test.)
If a president can arbitrarily ban entire segments of the
population under any contrived justification that suits his ideological
purposes, which group is next? Under a
presidency that is cutting off federal funds to universities who will not take “undesirable”
books from their shelves, how long before antiquated pseudo-scientific theories
of white superiority creep back into the public mindset? How long before ethnic and racial groups can
be banned from military service? Or,
certain religions (three guesses which one will be the first to go.)
Transsexuals are being distinctly targeted first because
they’re the most vulnerable target.
Unfounded theories denying their very existence are being promoted by a
president with open contempt for science.
The goal of the Trump administration and all it represents is to erase
trans people from existence as trans.
Selectively withholding federal funds in denying them not only access to
services and activities and basic facilities, but denying them the medical care
to which they are entitled, not only as minors, but at all ages. And, in a country where the blind loyalty of
the military now takes precedent over all else, in which judges are condemned
as “radical activists” for ruling against right-wing extremism and threatened with
impeachment…how long before transsexuals…and, anyone else declared incompatible
with society simply disappear from the face of the earth and all mention of
them is declared treasonous?
The short story which follows envisions one such all-too-possible
future…
*******
SHIELD OF HONOR
Cassie smiled as she slid the blade across the jugular and carotid
artery of David Carson, the current Minister of Internal Security. Carson’s eyes flared, the scream of shock
strangled in his throat as he reflexively strained against the manacles binding
him to his bed.
A swifter end than the bastard deserved, Cassie reflected as
she wiped the blade on the bedspread, a deep red stain spreading across the
pillow case. She looked at his face,
frozen in that stupid expression of shock.
The butcher responsible for the deportation of thousands like her to the
camps. As she photographed and uploaded
the spectacle of Carson spread-eagled in chains across the bed, she remembered
the camp from which she’d escaped after the military had condemned her when she
was 19. It still made her tremble. The shocks.
The drugs. The tortures. She shook it off, supplanting the pain with
hatred, as she’d trained herself to do.
Pinning her long red hair back and dressing herself in a
black security uniform she’d stashed in the hidden compartment in her suitcase,
she accessed the PC on Carson’s desk. Uploading the tactical worm, she put on her
infra-red goggles as the lights went down.
She heard the voices of security patrols mobilizing in the
compound below as she swung out the window, lowering herself towards the ground
five floors below on a motorized tether.
She could hear the guards pounding on the door of Carson’s room on the
way down. “Minister Carson! Are you all
right, sir?” She
heard them breaking in the door.
Reaching the ground, she slipped behind a tree to avoid a searchlight
from a passing security drone. She
sheltered in the tree’s shadow, covering her ears as half the sixth floor went
up in a fiery explosion.
Sirens wailed as the security staff swarmed towards the
burning building. She knew where Carson’s
limo was parked and ran to it. Using his
remote, she tripped the lock and entered his personal code. The car’s navcomp engaged automatically,
taking her through the main gate. She’d
already transmitted his security code ordering the sentries to let the car
through.
She exhaled as she switched to manual and hit the gas hard,
roaring out onto the dark highway.
She smiled. One more
down.
#
She woke from the usual nightmare, the scream stifled in her
throat. She swore, wiping the cold sweat
from her face, trembling as a shimmer of morning light peeked through the
window. She still thought she could feel
the sting of those long-healed welts across her back. Her father had beaten her when he’d found
out. “The army’ll beat that out of you,
you little fagot!” She still heard him
screaming that every night. “If you ever
tell anyone what you told me…I’ll kill you!”
She threw cold water on her face, running her hands through
her hair. Her eyes stung by the bathroom
light, she examined the delicate work of plastic surgery done on her face at
the clinic in Canada after she’d escaped.
The memory still grated across her nerves. Crossing the Canadian minefield along the 49th
parallel, the American artillery shells exploding around her…She started at the
sound of sirens in the street below. More
dissidents, probably, she told herself, her muscles relaxing. Her gun was hidden close by, as always.
Bringing up her PC, she accessed the news. As expected, Minister Carson’s death had been
attributed to a rebel bomb. As she’d
expected, the uploaded vid of his last noble moments had been deleted by the
News Ministry. But, the underground web
had spread it far and wide, she knew.
She chuckled.
#
It was night by the time the sonic tram had gotten her to
the east coast. New name, new
identity. The rebel network was
efficient, she had to admit. She made
her way round the edge of the government rally, books burning in raging
bonfires. One of the black-uniformed
guards was illuminated in the firelight. He turned and grinned at her as she
passed, patting his crotch. She fingered
the knife in her purse, wishing she had the time.
#
The digital TV in the bar was conveying the usual war news…the
drone raids over Montreal. Followed by
the local stuff… more transies publicly executed after the camp ‘therapists’
judged them ‘incorrigible.’ The patrons
laughed over their beers. She hid her
disgust with practiced skill. She met
her handler, Mike Sanders at the bar.
Her short skirt and heels leaving no doubt as to their business, he paid
his bar tab and accompanied her out, heading to the nearby motel. She heard snickers coming from the barroom as
they left.
#
“Your gun will be waiting for you in his quarters,” Sanders
said, glancing nervously out his hotel room window. “The usual bomb to cover the evidence, of
course. The food cart will get you as
far as the laundry shoot. The laundry truck
gets you out. Any questions?”
“None,” she said, lighting a cigarette. “Why are you so nervous?”
He sighed. “Because I’m
wondering why you requested this assignment.
It’s risky, and the pay’s low.”
“Someone has to do it,” she said, not looking at him as she
blew out a stream of smoke, looking at herself in the mirror and checking her
make-up. “The pig arranged experiments
on trans kids from Arkansas to Tennessee.
A lot of them died slowly and painfully before being disposed of in the
incinerators. I’m tired of opportunities
wasted and excuses about more strategic targets. I want that bastard dead.” She tried to keep herself from trembling.
He passed his hand pensively over his face. “You know our policy on this sort of
thing. If this is personal…”
“Do you want my help or not?”
He stared at the ceiling.
“It would be a good propaganda victory.
And, likely to get us more recruits.
Okay. You can have him.”
#
Healthcare Minister Walter Colhagen sipped his gin and
tonic, licking his lips as she slipped out of her dress, revealing the skimpy
black lingerie beneath.
“Nice,” he muttered, taking off his jacket. “Worth every penny.” He laid the money on the
bedside table and began to strip.
She found the gun in the bureau drawer where the housemaid
had left it. She hid it behind her back
as he turned towards her, smiling a cold smile.
“You have any kids?” she asked.
The smile dropped off his face. “What’s that to you?”
“I heard you had a son.
Kenneth was his name, wasn’t it?”
“He died,” he muttered, turning away. “I don’t talk about him. And, neither will you.”
“Remember that kayaking trip you took him on when he was
12? Those rapids?”
He spun, his eyes wide and blazing. “How the hell did you…” He froze, the blood
draining from his face as he saw the gun in her hand.
She treasured the look of anguish on his face as she pumped
a slug into his stomach. Two more into
his crotch. He looked up at her as she
pointed the barrel at his head. “So
long, Dad.”
She pulled the trigger.
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