Temper by Beck Nicholas

revolting of the ground on an alien attack. Defending against another in the future allowed them to seize the equipment to build the Lifer vessels and take the convicts as servants.
    Now we know it was all some kind of breeding program to make us resistant to what they declared as alien technology.
    I don’t know what to believe.
    It’s hard to think past their violation of our trust and our bodies. If it’s true and aliens are coming—does that give them the right to do what they have done?
    “We’ll have to go around,” Rael calls.
    I nod, and she turns off the road, slowing the bike as she finds the best path through the undergrowth. On the other side of the chasm, the movement of the earth has left a depression filled with water. Around the water feature, tall trees have grown, with leaves so bright they hurt my gloom-adjusted eyes.
    Was that?
    I blink, and what I thought I saw is gone. What I thought was a blur of brown moving, is a bush with spindly branches and tiny leaves. Not a running dog.
    When we make it back onto the road, it’s in the shelter of a huge cliff on our right. Away to our left are empty fields like those at the farm and another waterhole with trees around it.
    This time Rael sees it too.
    “Brown Dog,” she cries as we draw level with the trees.
    He lopes toward us, tongue lolling, and what looks for all the world, like a grin on his face.
    Rael stops the bike, and he leaps onto her lap. “I told you to stay,” she says. Her voice is stern, but her hands are rubbing his ears and her nose is pressed into his matted, stinking neck.
    I lean forward and scratch under his chin, ignoring the dirt it shakes free. “He must have cut across the fields somehow to have kept up.”
    We get off the bike. I stretch my aching muscles while Rael gives Brown Dog more attention.
    “Seeing him again is a good omen, don’t you think?” Rael asks from where she’s crouched in the damp dirt, her arms around his neck.
    “I think so.” The words are out my mouth before I remember I don’t really believe in omens and that my mission has no space for a dog or a child.
    For a second the only sound is Brown Dog’s happy panting, but then a low rumble begins. It grows louder as my heart hammers in my chest.
    “A vehicle,” Rael shouts.
    Her hands fumble as she tries to grab the bike and I reach in to help. We have to get out of here. Brown Dog yaps, and the sounds of the engine gets closer, coming from around the bend up ahead. The bike wobbles, tips and falls away from our hands.
    “Leave it,” I cry.
    But there’s no more time for the bike or to run. A van appears. White with black windows. So close now I can see the figures at the wheel.
    Company.
    A moment later there’s another and then a third van rounds the corner.
    Two more officers jump out of the first van, their faces focused, weapons drawn.
    I knew I’d see Company uniforms when we made it to New City. I didn’t know my stomach would shrivel at the sight. Memories of them tearing at my mother swamp all reason. I can’t think. I don’t breathe. Rage climbs with hot fingers into my throat and my ears ring with it.
    My legs tense. To run at them? To flee? But where? Open fields stretch away into the distance on either side. There’s nowhere to hide.
    Fight .
    My body urges me to spring. Adrenaline meets the rage and I’m buzzing with it. The end wouldn’t be pretty but I could take a few of the Company with me, hurt them for all they’ve done.
    And leave Rael behind. Defenseless.
    Like Zed was left behind.
    I stand and wait. Aware that Brown Dog has slipped away into the long grass. Feeling the trembling of Rael at my side despite the defiant lift to her chin.
    The officers spread out in a circle. Now there are six of them surrounding us. Not one has uttered a single word. So focused am I on the six Company officers that I don’t see the seventh until he’s out of the first van and crossing the road.
    Davyd.
    He’s dressed in Company