by G J Ogden
“Everyone, get back!” Ethan shouted, pushing off from the door and charging away from it, but the grenade detonated a second later and he was flung into the room, which filled with a dark cloud of smoke and dust.
Ethan blacked out for a moment, then found himself on the floor, covered in dust. He pushed himself up, coughing as the acrid smoke entered his lungs, but despite the bitter taste in his mouth and a shrill tone in his ears, he did not detect any serious injuries.
“Yuna, Gaia, are you okay?!” he called out, and then hacked up more black mucus on to the floor.
“We’re okay!” he heard them call back, and through the smoke, he could see Yuna hunched over by a console, with her mother shielding her with her own body. Moments later, the shroud of dust was sucked away through vents high in the ceiling, clearing the room of smoke in less time than it had taken to fill it.
Ethan scrambled to the sleeping area, dizzy and off-balance due to the ringing in his ears, and found Summer still unconscious, but breathing. The smoke had not had an opportunity to encroach deeply into the sleeping alcove, before the venting had kicked in, and Summer was unscathed, besides a thin coating of dust covering her face and hair, which Ethan gently brushed away. He left her and stumbled back into the main room, still coughing up black phlegm. The grenade’s detonation had brought the dome and surrounding walls of the hallway crashing down, sealing them in behind an avalanche of rubble.
Yuna and Gaia staggered over to Ethan’s side, coughing and rubbing dust from their eyes.
“What happened?” Gaia spluttered.
Ethan stared at the newly-formed barricade of twisted metal and stone; it was a barrier that was impenetrable to even the most belligerent enemy.
“The hermit just bought us the extra time we need.”
Yuna frowned, not following Ethan’s meaning.
“He’s gone, Yuna. He did it to save us. So, let’s make sure he’s the last to fall.”
Chapter 32
Ethan closed his eyes and concentrated on the soothing hum of the air-conditioning system, which worked to distribute the serum throughout the laboratory building. It had taken Gaia and Yuna another hour to modify the air-conditioning system and route enough power from the limited reserves to activate it, none of which would have been possible without the hermit’s sacrifice.
The absence of the old man was felt by everyone, but Ethan felt it more keenly than he had expected to considering that, in truth, he barely knew the man. He regretted that he would no longer have the chance to learn more about him and his remarkable life. The mysteries that had shrouded his nomadic existence had been as impenetrable as the enormous coat that he wore, but in his last hours he had revealed secrets more fantastic than Ethan had ever concocted in his wildest imagination. He should have felt disappointed that the story of the guardians had merely been a re-hashing of folklore and faerie stories from the hermit’s grandmother, but he was actually glad of the truth. There had been a time, not all that long ago, when the mystery of the lights in the night sky had driven Ethan to search for answers and to want more than this barren world offered. Ethan’s faith was destroyed as a boy who saw his parents killed by roamers, and he had been searching for something to make sense of that loss, and make sense of the world. He had believed the answers he desired to be in the past, or somewhere up in the sky, but he had found the truth he sought right where it had always been – not in the stars, but planetside, in the dirt of the settlement square, and in the trees of the forest, and in the icy, biting chill of the mountain air. And he had found it within Summer, who had tested him and challenged him, but had always been there when he needed her. She had always loved him, even when he went chasing after faerie stories. He knew precious little of these ancient stories, other than that they were supposed to have a happy ending, but that didn’t seem possible anymore. Not without Katie and Elijah, and not with Summer’s fate still undecided. The best ending he could wish for was a hopeful one; one where Summer was still alive, and her fire rekindled.
“I believe it has worked,” said Gaia, who was staring at a console screen alongside her daughter.
Ethan opened his eyes and rubbed his throbbing temples. “I’m sorry Gaia, I zoned out for a moment then.”
Gaia gently squeezed Ethan’s arm and smiled. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you.”
Ethan smiled back and squeezed her hand gently in response. “It’s okay. Tell me again what you said.”
Gaia pointed to the screen. “Why don’t you see for yourself. I must admit that I am surprised. Pleasantly surprised, of course, but surprised nonetheless.”
Yuna noticed Ethan’s furrowed brow and helped him out by pressing her finger to the screen in several places, highlighting different holo security feeds.
“The plan worked; the roamers are either dead or dying.”
Ethan studied the images that Yuna had highlighted, and all across the laboratory, even on the roof, roamers and the maddened lay either motionless, or dragged themselves pointlessly forward with what strength remained in their twisted, warped bodies. It was a pitiful sight, and Ethan felt no gladness, only a solemn sense of sadness that the end of the Maddening would have to come about through such grisly means. Despite how twisted and vile the lives of these creatures had become, they had all been people once.
Then the console screen shut off, followed by all the other systems in the room, including the air-conditioning system, the absence of which created a deathly silence, which was replaced by the ringing in Ethan’s ears. The only light in the room came from what appeared to be naturally iridescent panels along the bottom of the walls, and it was barely enough to navigate by.
“What happened?” said Ethan, placing a hand on the wall to orientate himself.
“I’d say we’ve burned through all of the reserve battery power,” said Yuna. “Running the air-conditioning and ventilation systems for the entire lab required a significant amount of energy.”
“But, what about the serum?”
“The serum was fully distributed already,” said Gaia in a reassuring tone. “Any corrupted being inside the laboratory, and even within a short distance beyond its walls, will have been exposed. We are safe.”
“Well, not exactly,” said Yuna, ominously.
Ethan and Gaia turned to her, and though the light was too dim to accurately read their expressions, Yuna could guess at the sort of looks they were giving her.
“With the entrance blocked completely, and all power to the air and ventilation systems gone, this room will soon run out of breathable air.”
Ethan laughed. “There’s always something.”
“Indeed,” said Gaia. “I am sure our hermit friend would remind us to still maintain hope.”
Ethan laughed again, drawing puzzled glances from Gaia and Yuna, and then reached inside the pouch in his belt, removing the grenade that the hermit had placed there, before his final, heroic act. The pistol the hermit had loaded for him was now tucked inside his belt; despite not caring for the weapon, he wanted to keep it close at hand.
“I think the time for hoping is over. It’s time we made our own luck. And our own exit.”
This time Yuna laughed. “Don’t you think that’s a bit…” she hesitated, searching for the right word, before finally settling on, “…extreme?”
“I think the past few days have re-defined my concept of what’s extreme.”
Gaia studied the grenade in Ethan’s hand and then glanced across to the sleeping alcove.
“If we break a small hole into the wall cavity at the back of the sleeping alcove and place the grenade deep inside, then the blast should be focused inside the wall.” said Gaia, in a decidedly matter-of-fact tone. “So long as we are all safely over the far side of the main room here, we should be fine.”
“Mother? Is that you?” joked Yuna. “Tell me, what have you done with Gaia?!”
Gaia raised an eyebrow, but did not smile. “Very funny, Yuna. If you have an alternative
suggestion, now is the time.”
“No, what the hell,” said Yuna, raising her arms to her side and them slapping them against her thighs. “Blow up the damn wall, but let’s not forget to move Summer out of the alcove first…”
Yuna helped Ethan to lift Summer out of the bed and carry her into the main room. The effort of transporting her was far greater than he expected, which Yuna attributed to the changing mixture of gases in the air. She was still unconscious as they laid her down, and her skin felt clammy and cold. Gaia read Ethan’s expression.
“I will check her over while you make preparations.”
“How long will it take, before we know for sure if the serum has worked?” said Ethan.
“The fact she is not already dead can only be a good sign,” Gaia offered. “But the truth is there is no way to know.”
Ethan nodded and tried to focus his mind on getting them out, before the air became unbreathable. He hurried back to the alcove with Yuna in tow, and together they used whatever tools and implements they could find to break a hole into the wall, large enough to slip the grenade into. Again, the effort was exhausting and Ethan began to feel light-headed, but finally they prized open a gap that was just large enough to slide the canister-like explosive through.
“Do you know how to set this thing off?” asked Ethan; sweat had beaded on his brow and his breaths were becoming shallower by the minute.
Yuna took the grenade and started to examine it clumsily.
“I’m not sure. This ring around the center seems to rotate, and there is a sort of button or plunger on the top.”
She rotated the ring and then flipped the grenade over in her hands, trying to work out what to do next, but her mind was a mess and even keeping her eyes focused was a struggle. Then she pressed the plunger on top and the ring lit up red.
The sight of this was like a shot of adrenalin directly into Ethan’s heart; he had seen this before, shortly before the hermit had blown the entrance, and he knew they had only a matter of seconds. He snatched the grenade and rammed it through the opening in the wall, and then grabbed Yuna’s hand and dragged her along with him, charging out of the alcove and into the main room just as the grenade detonated.
The next thing Ethan knew, Gaia was standing over him, helping him off the floor. He was vaguely aware of her voice, but mostly he just heard ringing. Next to him was Yuna, legs outstretched in front of her, hand clasping a thick, white bandage to her forehead. The ringing in his ears subsided enough to hear Gaia’s voice.
“Ethan, are you okay?”
He checked himself over and other than his headache feeling ten times worse than before, he seemed to still be in one piece. “I think so. Did it work?”
Yuna laughed and smiled, and then pointed over to the opposite wall, which was largely no longer there. “You could say that.”
Ethan got up and dusted himself down again – though by this point his ranger clothing was almost as much dust as it was fabric – and walked over to where the alcove had been. Half of the wall had been blown away, revealing a wide corridor on the other side. He stepped through into the corridor, drawing the pistol from his belt as a precaution, and checked up and down its length. At one side, leading further into the laboratory, were three bodies, motionless, either dead or dying, and at the other end was a large glass door that seemed to lead out on to a veranda, overlooking the lakeside. He followed the corridor to the end and tried the door, which opened, and stepped outside.
The night air was brisk and bracing, and felt wonderful compared to the claustrophobic stuffiness of the facilities in the control room. He pressed the pistol back into his belt and walked to the edge of the veranda to get a clear view out across the glassy, black lake. The sky was clean and clear and lit brightly by the moon and countless stars, and for the first time in a long time he did not feel afraid, or in danger. He felt like he was staring out at a new world, waiting to wake up from a generations-long slumber.
As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, Ethan noticed dozens of smaller lights that at first appeared not unlike the other stars twinkling gently around them, but then each shot away, tracing sharp white lines across the sky in every direction. This dance of lights continued for a few more seconds and then there was a brilliant blue flash of light, brief but blinding in its intensity, followed a second later by a thunderous boom that filled Ethan’s burgeoning heart once more with dread.
Chapter 33
Fatigue wracked Maria’s already weakened muscles as she grasped the arms of the command chair, head and body pressed tightly into the seat back due to the intense force resulting from the shuttle’s hard deceleration. An alarm sounded in the cabin and Maria strained her neck to check the panel in her chair, which warned that the engines were in overload. She glanced up to check the flight program and noted that only a few seconds remained before the hard-burn braking sequence would end.
Come on, cut the engines already, before they explode! she urged, speaking the words only in her mind, since the pressure on her chest and lungs made the effort of talking too great. Finally, the engine cut out and instantly the force pushing her back into the chair vanished, as did the strain on her weary body. The alarm stopped sounding, but her panel still showed an alert indicating that critical damage had been sustained to the main engine.
“Tell me something I don’t already know,” complained Maria, dismissing the warning; there was no sense in worrying about it now, because she was already all in. The shuttle completed its deceleration program by slowly spinning the nose back towards the planet, which filled almost the entire view through the cockpit glass.
The meds that Angela had given her had started to wear off during the flight from the moon base to the planet and, combined with the strain of the hard deceleration, she was feeling drained. Her sister had given her an additional supply of meds, but Maria was reluctant to take them, because of the debilitating early side-effects. Instead, she took two stim tablets from the arm of her chair and popped them onto her tongue, where they liquefied instantly. The effects hit moments later, boosting Maria’s senses and awareness and dulling the increasing fatigue and weariness that had begun to take over her body and mind. She coughed and it felt like needles had been driven into her chest and throat.
Come on, Sal, just hold it together for a little while longer.
The navigation console bleeped to indicate that the ship had reached the next phase of its approach. Maria cleared her throat, which required several painful attempts, and then she clicked on the commlink.
“UEC control, I am starting my approach planetside.”
There was a short delay and then Page answered. “Hey, Sal. How are you holding up?”
Maria smiled. “I’m doing fine, control. But you really need to brush up on your comms talk, Karl.”
“Yeah, well I’m just a blue boot, remember? I leave all this fancy flying stuff to you guys.”
Maria adjusted a number of controls in sequence and the shuttle altered its course and began to enter the atmosphere of the planet. She placed her right hand on the control yoke, ready to compensate should the shuttle’s battered systems cause it to stray off course.
“Sal, this is Ashley. Remember to check your entry angle and make sure that the new hull plating absorbs the brunt of the energy, got it?”
“Understood, Ashley. Don’t worry, your flight plan is flawless. I’ll admit, it’s even better than I could have done.”
“You were always happier flying on instincts, Sal. But this time, just stick to the plan, okay?”
“I’m entering the atmosphere now and starting final checks on the drone array,” Maria said, ignoring Ashley’s fussing. “I have to say, it makes a nice change to be doing this without being pursued or fired at for once.”
“Everything looks good with your course from here, Sal. What’s the status of your core?”
Maria checked the systems status panel. She had muted the alerts, since there had been so many of them, and the pier
cing alarms were making her already fierce headache even worse. The stims had at least helped to ease her head, but nothing could change the fact that the old shuttle was a flying wreck. She scrolled through the different sections, most of which were highlighted in amber, with several in red, until she reached the engine core readout. The whole screen was surrounded in a bright red border, which painted a rectangular square of light onto her pale, clammy face. She muted the commlink and blew out an exasperated sigh, then cleared her throat again and un-muted the commlink.
“It’s just about holding up, control. I’ll be fine,” Maria lied. The stresses on the hull were growing and the ship began to shimmy and shake, while the view outside of the cockpit was consumed by an orange-red glow.
“Understood. We’re going to lose communications soon, Sal. We all just wanted to say…” Then there was a pause, which was filled only by static.
“I understand, control,” Maria said, after the silence persisted. They had already said their goodbyes on the deck in the spaceport, and despite everything Maria had gone though, it had still hit her hard. She didn’t want to get swamped by those emotions again.
Maria checked the readouts again. Her course was drifting slightly, forcing her to make several minute corrections, which required all of her focus, but it at least helped to take her mind off the fact that she would soon lose contact with Ashley and Karl for good. The status panel for the drone array completed its diagnostic; it was primed and ready.
“At least something on this bucket is working,” laughed Maria, but her high spirits were short-lived as the commlink panel flashed to show the signal was about to be lost. She had already said everything that needed to be said, but as she hurtled through the atmosphere and the commlink threatened to dis-connect, she realized there was still something that she’d been hiding from them, as well as from herself. The truth was that she did consider this to be her penance. She believed it to be the universe balancing itself out for her failure to prevent the destruction of the GPS space station, and for the deaths of Diana and Raina and all the others who had lost their lives. The deaths were on Kurren, that much she accepted, but she also knew the guilt she carried would never leave her. At least this way, the pain would not last for much longer.
