by T. L Smith
“You don’t know me…” The woman rolled her eyes.
“I do!” My hand rolled around the switch and hit her. “I was one of the poor immigrant students you and your sorority sisters laughed at. You couldn’t stand that we’d invaded your ivory tower universities. Where we earned real degrees while your daddies paid for yours. But having anything you wanted still wasn’t good enough for you.”
The woman’s face turned uglier with hatred as I hit some deep nerves.
“You never worked for anything. Did anything with all the shit you were given. Never even thought to share any of it. Certainly not with people who really needed it.”
She tried to sit up higher, tried to hide the pain of her shoulder and pull off her snobby attitude. “And what did you do that you think was so great? This?”
I punched her in the shoulder, leaning close as she writhed in agony. “My village dug through drought-starved dirt for our food. Half my friends died of starvation before they were twelve. Then one day a missionary group offered to send me to an American school. Me! I swore to honor the village for their gift of freedom. I repay that gift with an irrigation system. Equipment. Seeds. Cattle. Medicine. Books. What have you done?”
My anger fumed higher as she just stared at me. “You joined a terrorist group. My people struggle while terrorists whisper vile lies into the ears of our young. They steal hands from our fields and return nothing. Not a bag of grain, not a head of sheep, not a cow. Only the dead bodies of the children they corrupt. And now…” I seethed through clenched teeth, beating on her shoulder. “You come aboard MY ship and claim this is for… justice. JUSTICE!”
“You can’t do this. There’s laws… I’m a prisoner.”
I stood up and pointed the gun at her again. “Do you see a fucking badge on me?” I shot her in the other shoulder. “Say something else stupid. Go ahead!”
She didn’t. The woman’s eyelids fluttered. Not enough oxygen? Too much blood loss? Shock? I hit her with the pistol. The front sight tore the woman’s cheek. The woman gasped and weakly cried out.
“Answer me. Why did you do this?”
She was gasping faster. “They’re…they’re planning… a new weapon… monsters…”
“Monsters?” Irrational thought was a symptom of deprivation, but the colonel still needed info. Against my will, I gave the woman a few puffs of oxygen. She craned her neck for more, but I pulled the tube away. “Who’s your target?”
The woman’s eyes were distant, not dilating as they should. Severe hypoxia. “Nepal…WSC conference... making monsters…” Her bloody hand reached out. “Help me.”
I laughed at the irony. “Right now you’d give anything if the WSC showed up to save you, even though you were willing to kill thousands of innocent people.” The woman’s eyes remained fixed on me. “You got all that, colonel? WSC was the target. I’d let them know if I were you. In case there’s a backup plan.”
“Speaking of backup plans… LeFiat. Time’s running out on yours.”
“On it.” I started backing up the aisle.
“Help me...” The woman gasped, leaning over the arm of her seat as I left her there.
“Forget it. You see, this… is justice.” The exterior oxygen meter on my suit fell completely into the red zone. It would take a few more minutes before her brain was completely dead.
I didn’t need to watch. I didn’t care either. What I needed was a new helmet and oxygen supply. Had to shove the first guy’s dead body out of the way to get into the passengers’ emergency cabinet, but with one look inside. I slammed the door closed. “Son of a bitch! They sabotaged the suits. No oxygen and damaged helmets.”
I heard the colonel let out a soft growl. “Not what we wanted to hear. Give us a few minutes. We’ll try to figure something out.”
“Sure.” I returned to the cockpit, tripping on one of the loose tape rolls. I picked it up to throw it back in the locker, then clutched it tight. “Colonel, duct tape works on everything.”
“So I’ve heard.”
“Let’s find out.” I put my helmet on and started wrapping tape around the seal. I used the whole roll and watched the oxygen meter. I couldn’t do the math in my head. Maybe I’d deprived myself of a bit too much air too.
“Captain LeFiat. That’s still not enough oxygen, but listen to me.” It was the doctor who’d helped me with Juan’s wound. “We’re going to induce a suspended medical state.”
“To prolong life support?” I couldn’t think of an alternative. “What do I do?”
The doctor helped me put together a drug cocktail from the medical kit. If it didn’t put me to sleep, it would probably kill me. Then I vented whatever remaining wisps of oxygen and growing carbon monoxide back into the ship’s recycler. An engineer talked me through attaching a line from the recycler to a port on my helmet, using a few more strips of duct tape. I turned off the thermal settings in the ship and for my suit.
The cold came on fast as I settled into my captain’s chair and injected the drugs. The chemicals burned going in, but quickly the cold got less intense. Everything got less intense.
The colonel’s voice seemed far away. “Sleep. I’ll take care of everything.”
I looked out into the stars. The drugs made them swirl together. I let out a long slow breath, whispering one last thought. “Take care of my people.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
I woke gasping for air. My chest hurt from the flood of emotions that hit me. This dream was different. Different than the book. The outcome was the same, but there was less… less of the author. More of the person behind the story. Sesen LeFiat. An East African immigrant who made good. Only to lose her life.
The pain of her past, her fears for the future, they cut me as deeply as they did her. I couldn’t stop crying. Crying for her. Crying for Juan. He’d wake up to find himself alone in space. Knowing she sacrificed herself. For people she didn’t even know.
But she did what she had to.
My head hurt and I pressed myself deeper into the corner of my bunk, pressing my forehead to my knees, holding my legs tight. This was insane. Two weeks ago I was just a freighter captain. Carl was just a crewman. Now I had no idea what we were, or how to get out of this. Any more than LeFiat could escape. She tried to run, but fate wouldn’t let her.
An alarm sounded, making me jump with fear, until the computer spoke. “Reaching Sector 43M892 jump point in one hour.”
“On my way.” I dragged myself from my bunk and dressed, then slipped quickly past the dayroom and into the cockpit. I didn’t even try to look to see if Carl was there. After that dream, he was the last person I needed to see.
Dropping into the pilot’s seat, I looked out into the stars. The woman in the book had done the same thing, right before she died. They tried to revive her, but whatever controlled our souls had already claimed hers.
I covered my face, my eyes. “Stop it.”
“Capt. Ghiya. Do you need assistance?” The computer calmly inquired. “Shall I call Mr. Lambert?”
“No!” I took a deep breath, forcing this new batch of tears down. “No, I’m fine. Let’s get this done.” I leaned forward, focusing only on the boards. The next jump was already programmed in, but unlike other pilots, I took the time to verify each leg before committing. Especially way out here on the spiral.
Jump points connected the FTL routes. Intersection points where we could switch from one interstellar highway to the next. Like the axle of a wheel. The further out on the spiral, the fewer spokes on the wheel, but I still checked before making the stop. There could be another ship there and I’d have to wait my turn. Or there could be a break in the next spoke. A wayward object drifting onto the highway.
The computer transmitted my approach and received a confirmation that we had immediate access. No other pending traffic. Out this far it would be unlikely, but it happened. I submitted my next jump request. The computer transmitted to the jump point and it shot out a signal to my next destination.
I had to wait for a response as the signal made its own lightyears jump, and bounced back a confirmation signal. If there was something blocking the signal, the time of the bounceback measured the distance.
To keep my mind occupied while I waited for the return signal, I did the jump math, rechecking what I’d already done at least a dozen times in the years I’d run this route. Every pilot had to know how to do a manual calculation. Few could do it in their heads. One decimal point could put you in a whole shitload of trouble. The center of a star or lost in space.
Of course the computer also verified the calculations before we jumped. I keyed in the number repeating in my head and it matched the computer. Bounceback confirmed as we dropped out of light. We skated by the satellite just close enough for it to record my transponder signal. If anything happened and I failed to arrive at my next port, the IGF could track me to the nearest jump points. Unless… I shoved the thought aside.
We hopped back into Sync, heading down the next spoke. Four days to that point, then a detour to pick up another shipment. Four more days closer to the heart of civilization.
Leaving the cockpit, thoughts of doom and gloom were interrupted. First by the smell of food, then by Carl. He blocked my path as I tried to bypass the dayroom again. “Dinner is almost ready. Come sit down.”
“I’m… I’m not hungry. I’ll eat later.” He didn’t move out of my way. “Carl. Please.”
“No. You’re barely leaving your cabin, shirking your workouts and from the galley records, not eating.” He grabbed my shoulder and gave me a gentle push into the dayroom. “You can keep avoiding me, but you’re going to take care of yourself. Even if I have to force you.
He didn’t let go until I sat down at the table. He put a protein drink in front of me. “Drink, while I finish dinner.”
I took the container, forcing a sip down, watching him through my lashes. We had plenty of RTE meals, but he liked to cook. A strange trait I’d have never assumed when I hired him. Especially not considering the way we’d met in the first place.
My mind flashed back to that terrible night. It was a special drop between my regular loads, though this one was in the middle of the night. That didn’t bother me. In space, time was relative to the planet, and the client. I dropped at their convenience and this one was on the docks. I could conclude business quickly and be back on my contracted run with a few thousand extra credits in my pocket.
We met the clients near the gates to the docking complex. While my crewman dropped the grav-cart to the ground. I handed my client the manifest. My guy slid the crates from our grav-cart to theirs. Once they left the last roller, they weren’t my liability anymore.
Normally this client’s pickup guy just paid me and left. This time he pried the lid off one of the crates. My first thought was that the last shipment had damages and they’d changed policy. Then the man tensed. I got the sense that he’d made a mistake. Instinct made me look at the crate and I saw the true contents.
My mouth responded before my wits, with a rant of freighter curses. I had limits when it came to smuggling. Drugs went way over that line. My involuntary outrage said exactly that to the smuggler, making us loose ends to be dealt with.
The smugglers scrambled for weapons as I shoved my shipmate towards the nearest alley.
We didn’t make an escape. His legs were shot from under him and I was tackled to the ground. I used all the skills I’d learned in the military. One man lunged for me and staggered back from a kick intended to crack his ribs. My other leg arched higher in a backwards kick and I crushed a second man’s jaw. The first guy was coming at me again, but I staggered as a stunner hit me in the back.
It missed my nervous system. I grabbed the man charging me and twisted him around to take the next shot. Before I could grab his weapon, his body went from stiff to limp. His partner opened fire again. I tried to dodge, but fell, stunned to paralysis. Conscious enough to watch as they gathered around us. They beat my shipmate unconscious, then turned their attention to me.
I knew what would happen next. I struggled to find enough strength to repel them, but couldn’t as they ripped at my clothes. Unexpectedly the man on top of me lost half his face in a searing flash. Everyone else dove for cover.
Though still numb from the chest down, I managed to push the dead man off of me, found his weapon and crawled to my crewman’s side. Somehow I got both of us behind a stack of barrels. I tried to take aim on the smugglers, but my vision was blurred. I bit down my revulsion and wiped away blood and brain matter, then joined the battle.
In a few minutes the dock was quiet and bodies were scattered in the shadows. Cautiously I left the refuge of the barrels, leaning on them for support as feeling returned to my legs. From the other end of the alley a man limped into the light. He gave first-aid to my shipmate while I called the authorities.
Between reports to the cops and making sure the medical personnel took care of my crewman, I lost track of my rescuer. My shipmate underwent surgery to repair broken bones and a damaged nerve tissue. The day after he woke up, he quit. The next day my rescuer showed up looking for a job.
Carl had the qualifications I needed and certainly proved his handicap didn’t limit his abilities. I hired him on the spot. By the end of the first full run, it was a done deal. We worked well together and I enjoyed his company. More than I admitted or realized. Until now. Until it was dangerous for him to be around me.
In a blink I hid my eyes from Carl and stabbed at the plate he’d put in front of me. If my dreams were any indication of things to come, it wasn’t going to end well for either of us.
I stirred the food, fighting the sick feeling in my stomach. He’d made one of my favorite dishes, but I couldn’t eat. Suddenly my fork was pulled away. Looking up, Carl frowned at me. “What?”
“You can swish your food around all you want, but you’ve only taken two bites. Nibbles. What’s on your mind?”
I pushed away from the table. My secret thoughts of doom choked off any words I wanted to scream at him.
“Don’t run off like that.” Carl caught me, spinning me around. “It’s that damn book.”
“That’s right, it is. None of them had a chance, no matter how hard they fought. We’re going to end up dead or broken, just like them. Like all of them.”
“You believe that!” He let go. “You’re letting that book ruin your life. Is there nothing I can say to make you stop this?”
I dropped my eyes away from him again.
“Fine! Just go.” He stomped to the table, picking up the plates, dinner ruined for both of us. His disappointment drove me from the dayroom, back to my quarters.
I crawled into the darkest corner of my bunk, trying to shut out the images playing in my head. The look on Carl’s face hurt me. That spark of rogue in his eyes, his attempts to intentionally push my limits, just for fun, wasn’t there when he released me. I’d spent all this time trying to push him away, and now that I had, it killed my soul.
CHAPTER EIGHT
I heard the servos in his suit and felt his disappointment before he even spoke. “Do you know what time it is? Do you know where you were supposed to be?”
I looked to the antique clock over the center of the open building, old hands jerked from one second to the next. I rubbed my face and eyes. “The meeting... sorry. I lost all track of time.”
Carl leaned across the table to pick up my com. “You turned it off! Number one rule. Never turn it off!” He shook it at me with each word.
“Keep your voice down or you’ll get us thrown out.” I grabbed my com back and shoved it into my pocket. “I’ll find us another gig in a couple days…” The papers spread over the table drew me back and I chewed on my fingernail as I tuned him out in their favor.
This was the first major base we’d hit coming back in-system. I’d come into the city to get a few personal items, when I passed this building. A real library, instant computer access to every printed book and government file
since… since ancient Alexandria. I’d gotten further here than all the remote inquiries from my ship’s computer.
“Kali!” Carl slammed his hand down in the middle of the table. Several pages fluttered off the table. He picked up the ones under his hand. “What is all this?” His eyes flitted down the page. He flipped through a few more, then to the last sheet. “What the hell are you doing?”
“I have to figure this out, and I think I did.” Dazed and exhausted I rummaged through the stacks and picked up one of the reports. “They’re true, all the stories from the book. The names and some the other stuff are different, but the basics are all here.” My eyes jittered between the pages in my hand and those on the table. “I’m them, all of them, and it’s not over. Something else is going to happen. In the book, the aliens came for her, for her. Me!”
My voice rose as long-buried panic gurgled up into my throat. Around us eyes shifted up as I broke a centuries-old custom. Libraries still demanded the special hush of contemplation, even from the witless. I waved the pages I’d printed off. “These are all official military records, facts only glossed over in history books. They were real.”
Carl rushed to activate the privacy buffer around the table, containing my voice as it rose. He shoved me down in a chair. “Kali, it’s an obsession. Stop it.” He looked at the pages scattered across the table. “You blew off a client and came here to look for evidence of a fantasy.”
“It’s not a fantasy. I found the proof.” I wanted to pull free, but more, I wanted him to shake me until I woke up. I desperately wanted this to be a bad dream. “It’s not over. Something else is going to happen and this time we won’t get away.”
Even with the buffers on, prying eyes peered over antique books and computer projections to watch us. “Kali, this doesn’t prove anything.” He picked up pages clipped together. “It’s just a good example of art imitating life.”
