He couldn’t help but wonder whether this mission had gotten to him, whether his mind was starting to fray. He knew this could happen to soldiers. Sometimes they saw things that stuck with them, things they could not erase; things that haunted them. Things that made their minds begin to unravel … Harris had seen a lot in his time, but he’d always prided himself on his strong mind and his ability to leave the shit behind and switch off the soldier, and back into civilian mode. But this mission had been different. Very different. Had this mission been the one to finally make him crack? Was this mission the one that would be his undoing? Then again, he’d had that first dream of Sibbie and Etta before he got the call …
So what did that mean? What if this wasn’t a soldier’s mind fraying with some kind of PTSD? What if this was purely a medical thing? Purely genetic? What if these strange nuances were the start of him following his mother down into the murky depths of her Alzheimer’s? What if …?
He shook the image of Sibbie and Etta from his mind, exhaling in a controlled manner, as he continued to stare at Welles. Pull it together, Saul. Focus!
He walked back out to Doc’s office, sat down, and tried to clear his mind. It was critical that he was thinking sharp when he made that transmission to Command.
27
Sparkie
Carrie opened her eyes slowly. She was groggy, like she had just woken from the deepest of deep sleeps. For a moment she thought she was back on Earth, in the spare bedroom at her father’s holiday villa in Florida. She looked up at the lights on the ceiling, but they looked different. She blinked heavily, wondering what the beeping noises were. Then she focused her eyes on Colt’s sleeping face. She was still on the Aurora.
She went to roll onto her back, and suddenly felt the weight of her head, although it hadn’t seemed to be throbbing until she turned. She tried to push herself over with her arm, but it hurt, as did her back. She groaned aloud in pain, fell onto her back, then closed her eyes again. After a few seconds she heard a noise and opened her eyes again. Harris stood in the doorway, and he started toward her.
“Y’alright?” he asked quietly.
“I just …” she said with a little difficulty, then swallowed to clear her throat, “I couldn’t turn over.”
She saw him eyeing the bruised side of her body.
“But you’re okay, now?”
“Yes, sir,” she whispered.
“Alright. Well, you need anything, just call out.” He turned to walk away.
“Captain,” she called, although it was not as loud as she planned.
He paused.
“Thank you …,” she said. “For coming back … for saving me.”
Harris eyed her for a moment, as a humble expression washed over him. She studied the bruises on his face and wondered how his ribs were.
“No problem, corporal,” he said. “Thank you for coming to get me, too.”
She managed a half smile. “I didn’t save you though.”
Harris pursed his lips and shook his head. “No, but you distracted them so that I could get away. If you hadn’t come back, I’d still be there. So, I guess we saved each other.”
She blinked heavily and gave him another half smile. She noticed he wasn’t using his captain’s voice. He’d put away the formalities and was showing her a piece of himself unconstrained by his uniform. She recalled seeing Harris with his gun, and the relief she’d felt. She hadn’t recognized the room they’d held her in from any of the footage she’d seen, but somehow Harris had found her.
“How did you find me?” she asked.
He eyed her again for a moment, then glanced over at McKinley’s bed. “Doc and McKinley armed a tracking device on your headset in case you got caught. So I guess technically they saved you,” he shrugged. “Doc just guided me where to go from the flight deck.”
“Where is he?” she asked.
“Doc? Getting some much needed sleep,” he said, his captain’s voice returning, “And you should get some more, too, corporal,” he ordered.
She nodded, closed her eyes, and heard him walk away.
*
Harris walked back into Doc’s office with a plate of food. Doc had just come back on shift and was in the hospital checking on his patients, but soon joined him to eat, sitting down at his desk.
“You going to call them soon?” Doc asked. “Command?”
Harris nodded. “Right after this. Packham said they’ve been trying to make contact. I can’t hold off any longer.”
“You think they’ll send Martin’s ship to intercept us? Or send another one?”
“Hopefully another. I think Martin will be keen to check on the station. If they send another one for us, they’ll send the nearest ship, which means it could be at any moment. That’s why I’ve been stalling, but I know our window of goodwill is closing fast. They’ll be tracking us and wondering why we’re not responding to their contact.”
“Should I start waking them up, in there,” Doc motioned to the hospital, “so they know what’s going on?”
Harris shook his head. “Hunter and Colt have been out for half of it. There’s not much information they can provide. But I would like a talk with Welles and McKinley. Once the UNF get a hold of us, we’ll be separated and quarantined. If they put us through the correct channels we’ll be locked in a debriefing room for god knows how long after that, under guard. That is, if they handle us legit.”
He exchanged a concerned look with his lieutenant.
“How classified do you think this mission was?” Doc asked, eyes narrowing slightly. “You think Welles was right? Do you think there’ll be some friendly faces when we get back?”
Harris shrugged at him. “I don’t really know. I can’t see them advertising the fact that they used their own men as bait for an experiment. I think this was probably on a need-to-know basis, and not many people needed to know. But until we know who we can trust, we need to toe the line like good, obedient little soldiers. If we do, then they won’t see us as a threat, and we’ll be safe. Hopefully it's only a few who fucked us over, Doc. And not the whole UNF itself.”
Doc nodded in agreement, although his face still showed concern.
Harris let out a big sigh and stood. “What I want to know most, is where Colonel Isaack stands in all of this. It’s time I call Command.”
*
Harris waited for the screen to connect.
“Captain Harris, finally!” Isaack greeted him sternly. “You’re aware we’ve been tracking you for the past ten hours? Do you care to explain why your ship has left the Darwin without orders to do so, nor any request from yourself? And why haven't you responded to our comms?”
“Where’s Professor Martin?” Harris asked clenching his jaw.
“Answer my question, captain. And what happened to your face? I’ve got a lot of important people here wanting an explanation, so you’d better start giving me the fuckin’ answers.”
Harris tried to control the anger bubbling inside him, “I’ll explain myself, colonel, but first I would like you to explain why you sent us there to be slaughtered. Or why you sent three female recruits there to take part in an experiment they had not given their consent to.”
Isaack momentarily looked confused, but quickly regained his composure. “Captain, I have no idea what the hell you’re talking about, nor do I like your tone. Your team were sent there to resolve comms issues, which I might remind you, you have failed to do. Your ship has also been off the contact radar for almost twenty-four hours and on top of that you’ve left your post without authorization and I need a damn good explanation as to why.”
Good soldier, Saul. Be a good soldier. Hold it in.
“Colonel Isaack, four of my men are dead. First Sergeant Carter, Staff Sergeant Bolkov, Sergeant Louis and Private First Class Smith. The crew of the Darwin are responsible for this. I also have four injured soldiers: Second Lieutenant McKinley, First Sergeant Hunter, and Corporals C
olt and Welles. The crew of the Darwin are also responsible for this.”
“What? Four men did all of this to your team of soldiers?” Isaack interrupted, his face showing signs of either confusion or anger. Harris couldn’t decide which.
“No, colonel. The rest of the Darwin crew were, in fact, still on the station, as I suggested.”
Isaack stared at Harris for a moment. The seconds passed. “How many casualties in the Darwin crew?”
“Seven.”
“Injured or dead?”
“Dead.”
Isaack stared at him again. There was something about his face that piqued Harris’s interest. Isaack was trying to keep a poker face, but Harris could tell from his eyes that this was all news to him.
“And what started this? The incident with Welles?” he asked, the harsh tone gone from his voice.
“No. The incident was a by-product of why we were really sent here.” Harris stared down the screen waiting to see what Isaack had to say to that.
A few seconds passed as Isaack’s mind ticked over. “Captain Harris, a UNF ship will reach you in approximately eight hours. You will let them board, and they will assume control of your ship and bring you back to base. You are to talk to no-one about this until we debrief. This is classified. You understand?”
“This UNF team you’re sending, is it their mission to silence us?”
Isaack’s face hardened. “The UNF team will bring you back to base alive, Harris. Now, I don’t know what the fuck happened up there, but I want a full debrief on this. Do you understand?”
“Where’s Martin?”
“On his way to the Darwin. Now, do you understand my order?”
Harris studied him, trying to judge his sincerity. “Yes, sir,” he said, trying to keep any emotion from his face, but struggling with the accusatory look in his eyes. “Answer me one thing, though, colonel?”
“What’s that?” Isaack eyed him sternly back.
“Why did you order me to keep the women on the ship?”
Isaack stared at him for what seemed like an age, before he finally answered. “We’ll discuss that upon your return, Harris.”
Isaack leaned forward, hit a button and the screen went dead.
*
Carrie heard the sounds of faint murmuring.
“Welles? Welles, it’s okay!”
She woke with a start and panicked when she saw someone standing over her. Instinctively, her hand shot up and held them at bay.
“It’s okay. It’s me.” Doc held his hands out, peacefully.
She looked down from his face to her hand, which was clenched in a fist, tightly grasping his shirt within it. She let it go.
“Sorry,” she said groggily, raising her hand to her head.
“You alright?”
She nodded and the tension eased off her shoulders.
“Some dream, huh?” he said, eyeing her carefully.
She blinked her eyes, trying to remember it, then decided she didn’t want to, as she pictured the terrifying faces of Chet and Logan. She looked back at Doc. “How long have I been asleep? Are we back on Earth yet?”
“No. We’re still a way off Earth. You’ve been sleeping on and off for about eighteen hours.”
“Jesus!”
“How’s your head?” he asked, flashing his light into her eyes again, making her shy away.
She lay there for a moment and concentrated. Her head was still sore, but not quite as heavy as it had been before, nor did it seem to throb as much.
“It’s okay. It feels more like a migraine now.”
Doc put the light back into his pocket. “Good.”
Just then she heard McKinley groan. Doc glanced over at him, then back to her. “I had to wake you both up,” he told her. “Command knows we’ve left the Darwin and another ship will intercept us in a few hours. Captain wants to talk to you before they do.”
Carrie nodded, then Doc walked over to McKinley. Harris entered the room with Brown by his side, and stood, hands on his hips, eyeing them all.
“How long?” Harris asked Doc impatiently.
“Just give them a few minutes to wake up,” he told him.
Harris hit the intercom button. “Packham? You hearing this?”
“Yes, sir,” her voice sounded over the PA.
Carrie watched as Harris turned back, bringing his hands up to hold his ribs.
“Fuuuuuck, Doc …” McKinley said groggily.
“How’s the pain? Alright?”
McKinley groaned a little. “Yeah … we at Command?”
“Not yet,” Harris interjected, “but Command is coming to us. They’ll be here in approximately,” he looked at his watch, “two hours.”
McKinley rubbed his face, glanced at Carrie, then back to Harris. Doc fetched some water for his two awakened patients.
“When the UNF ship gets here,” Harris continued, “they’ll be assuming command of the Aurora, and we’ll all be under armed guard. They will probably separate us, and we won’t see each other again until after we’re back on Earth, quarantined and debriefed.”
“Do we trust the team that’s coming?” McKinley asked.
Harris pursed his lips and nodded, “I think maybe we can. Colonel Isaack seemed surprised by what I told him. It could be a ruse though. So, I just want to give you all a heads-up about what’s going to happen. If they process us legit, you can bet your asses on a major debrief when we get back. Seven UNF scientists have been killed by our crew. That’s seven deaths we have to answer for, and on paper it’ll look like a clear-cut case of soldiers versus scientists. And you know who’ll be left looking bad in this situation. This was a classified mission. We don’t know who we can trust or how much our debriefers will know. And if this thing goes against us, charges could be laid. And don’t think for a second that they’re going to focus their grilling on me and Doc, as the senior officers. They will grill the fuck out of all of you. Especially you, Welles, and you, too, Packham, you hear me?”
Carrie nodded, and Packham’s voice came over the PA. “Yes, sir.”
“You’re both fairly new to Space Duty, so they’re going to assume that you’re the weakest link and try and push that. You’ll get special attention, Welles. I know you’ve had a serious debrief before with the Santos mission, but with that head injury, the fact that you killed two of their Jumbos, wounded another, not to mention the incident with Grolsh, or the fact that the Jumbos actually caught you. They will be squeezing you, corporal, you can guarantee that.”
Carrie nodded firmly at him.
“So, assuming our debriefers are privy to the classification, all you have to do is tell the truth,” Harris told them. “I’ve been over every casualty in my head and there wasn’t one that wasn’t deserved on their side. They were killed when one of our own was at risk. The UNF cannot deny that. But we still don’t know how things will play out when they get their hands on us. We don’t know whether we can trust them, so I will leave it up to you as to what you do and do not tell them. All I ask is that you be smart about what you say and how you say it. These guys, these JAGernauts,” he said using the slang term for UNF JAG officers, “the ones that will handle the debriefing, are worse than lawyers. They’ll go for the jugular if they feel it’s necessary; they’ll get real personal, and they can twist the shit out of anything. So you all need to be strong and hold firm. We did what was right, in a mission that was completely wrong, and you need to remember that. Questions?”
The room was silent, but Carrie decided to speak up.
“Captain, should I see if my father can help?”
Harris eyed her for a moment, mulling it over. “What exactly do you think he can do for us?”
“He’s an Original,” she shrugged. “He’s bound to know some friendly faces at Command. He can try and make sure the right people get involved in our case. Make sure that we’re not burned at the stake.” Carrie touched her hand to the side of
her face, trying to caress away her aching head, and thought for a moment. “If I make a transmission to him, will they be able to track it?”
“Probably,” he answered. “Packham, can you somehow censure what is said on the transmission?”
Packham’s voice sounded nervously over the PA. “I don’t know. That was really Smith’s forte, scrambling. I can try, but I can’t guarantee a result.”
“I … I can probably do it in code, sir,” Carrie told them.
Harris arched his eyebrow at her.
“When my father came home from a mission, he would talk in code with my mother about it. It was his way of letting her know what went on, without actually telling her and breaking UNF protocol. I’m the only other person who knows it.”
Harris and Doc exchanged a look, then he turned back to Carrie. “Give it a try, Welles. We might need a friendly face. Packham, set up the transmission.”
“Yes, sir.”
*
Carrie felt a little dizzy as she sat there staring at the transmission screen. Until now, her head had distracted her from the pain down her neck and back from Logan’s wall crunch, but now it was becoming more and more evident. She tried to stretch out her muscles as the message blinked across the screen: One moment while we connect you …
She waited a few moments, the screen flashed, then she saw her father. He was in his living room, in his dressing gown. It looked to be the early hours of the morning there.
“Ree! You scared the shit out of me. I thought I was getting ‘the call’ about you. What happened to your face? Are you alright?” he asked, a little frazzled. He’d obviously just awoken.
“Dad, hi,” she began slowly, calmly.
“Ree, what happened?” he asked, angrily.
“It’s fine. I’m fine. I just wanted to speak with you.” She squeezed her eyes tight for a moment trying to force her brain to think back to the conversations she’d heard between her parents, and the games they’d played in her childhood. It had been a while. “I— I’m going to be home soon and I wondered whether you could … could get me a gift? For when I return.”
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