by Jill Myles
She nodded and bounded away, heading out to the airlock of the small lifepod so she could move to the Alcestis, anchored nearby. The lifepod itself had been secured on one side of the Cephalon’s deck, ready to jettison at a moment’s notice. Two remained, but the probe had told them this one was their best chance for survival.
Kaden turned to the ship’s computers and began to tap at the interface. It was old, something he’d only seen in old vidpics and lesson books, and it took him a few minutes to adjust to the clunky interface. He found the menu to activate the sprint drive, and the stasis chambers on the ship itself.
All stasis chambers functioned the same, even a thousand years after initially created. Small ships themselves, they were designed with one purpose in mind—get the passengers to safety. To that extent, they had a sprint drive and stasis chambers for the passengers if the month’s worth of food stashed on board wouldn’t be enough.
Of course, all the food and water stored on this small lifepod had probably turned to inedible dust hundreds of years ago. He and Zoey would have to resort to stasis. They could supply from their ship, but they only had so much room and they didn’t know how long they’d be out in deep space. Stasis was the best option. There were four chambers on the tiny lifepod.
He ran a diagnostic on each of them and heaved a sigh of relief when the first one lit up green. Perfect. The next flashed red—inoperable.
His stomach churned.
The next... red. Inoperable.
Acid flared in his gut as he watched the screen and the computer checked the systems of the last stasis chamber. It paused a moment, then flared yellow. “Critical systems failure on stasis chamber four. Printing analysis.”
He heard the chirp of a record somewhere and stared in shock at the screen that filled with errors. Only one stasis chamber was functioning.
One of them wasn’t going home.
The diagnostic kept printing, and he looked at the long list of items wrong with the pod that would prevent it from functioning properly. He could fix it, given time.
But time wasn’t something they had. The lifepod’s oxygen tanks were functioning, but he doubted it had the filters for a longer retrieval, and he wasn’t sure how long it’d take before someone could run across their distress beacon. It might take weeks. Months. Years.
A strange sense of calm overtook him. Disappointment, yes, but through it all, was calm. He wasn’t going to live through this.
He stared at the pod’s report for a minute longer and then shut the screen down. He wasn’t going to tell her. If only one of them was going home, better that it be his beautiful, brilliant science officer than some generic military meathead.
The airlock hissed and he moved to the far end of the small one-room lifepod to greet her. Zoey returned, a case in hand—their ship’s records. She’d worked tirelessly through the night to do backups of the Alcestis, determined to copy not only the archaeological data that had been left behind when Dr. Nevis had abandoned them, but their records of the doctor’s sabotage and Garcia’s suicide. The truth would be known, and Zoey was determined to ensure that the authorities took action.
And since Dr. Nevis had likely set up his own version of the rescue, they needed backup. Hence, the records.
Her brilliant smile met him, visible even through the curved glass of her helmet. They waited for the airlock door to shut again, then for the chime of the lifepod that signaled it was okay to take off their helmets. They did, a moment later, and Zoey set down the records, and then jumped into his arms, kissing his face wildly.
“You beautiful, beautiful meathead,” she said between kisses. “You did it.”
“I did,” he said, forcing a grin to his face. She was so gorgeous, so full of life. “And we’ve got just enough time to start powering up the sprint drive and get the hell out of this system before it all goes belly-up. Did you get everything you need off the Alcestis?”
“Everything I need is right here,” she said in a soft, throaty purr that told him she was turned on. Ah, hell. He’d love to drag her to the floor and make love to her one last time, but that anxiety cramping his gut was going to destroy any hopes of getting hard. He just wanted to get her safe and get her away from here.
Making sure Zoey lived was the only thing he had left.
He gave her a light, affectionate kiss, and then swatted her on her ass through the spacesuit. “Let’s get you into stasis and get things going. I’ll get the sprint drive running.”
He half expected her to protest, but she didn’t. She gave him a trusting smile and began to strip out of her spacesuit one last time, back down to that tiny tee and the panties he loved seeing her in. He stripped out of his own suit, lest she think anything was amiss, and got down to a tee and briefs.
They moved toward the first stasis chamber set into the wall of the lifepod, and Kaden pushed the unlock button on it. Zoey moved forward to get in and then paused. “I’m the scientist. I should be the one loading you in.”
He shook his head, nudging her forward again. “I’ve done this a hundred times,” he lied. “I’ve got it handled.”
She gave him an openly skeptical look. “You’re sure?”
“I am. I want to make sure the sprint drive is running and doesn’t need any last-minute repairs before I shut down.”
Zoey seemed to accept that and slid into the chamber. It was large—much larger than the modern ones. Big enough to fit two people, he thought with a wry sense of irony. Too bad the life support systems were only enough for one person. She slid into the standing chamber and then began to attach the sensors that would allow the computers to monitor her vital signs. They would feed the appropriate nutrients and cryo into the atmosphere of the pod that would ensure that she remained in stasis until someone awoke her. After the sensors were applied, she looked at him, and her gaze slid to his mouth.
“Can you kiss me again, Kaden? One last kiss for luck before we do this?”
He slid into the pod next to her, jostling her to the side and getting tangled in the wires now connected to her skin. But she only grinned and reached for him, pulling him forward.
And he kissed her gently, his lips on hers. It was a slow, delicious kiss, one that promised all kinds of naughty, wonderful things when she got out of stasis. Her leg lifted, hiking up around his hips and she pushed against him.
He groaned against her mouth, feeling his cock become hard as rock against her. “Zoey—”
“I know,” she said softly, kissing at his mouth, then biting at his lower lip. “I know. Just a minute more.”
“You need to go into stasis,” he told her, mock-stern. “And if I stay here much longer, when they open this pod, they’re going to find the cock of the ship’s resident meathead stuffed into the science officer. Think of the scandal.”
She chuckled against him at that and gave him another deep, lascivious kiss. “Then the science officer will just have to meet up with the meathead when they wake up,” she said, all teasing. “And find new ways to be scandalous.”
“Sounds like a plan,” he told her.
“I can’t believe this is going to work,” she said with excitement, squeezing his arm. “I thought we were just going to wait for the bitter end, but you never gave up. You’re amazing, Kaden.”
He leaned in to kiss her soft mouth one last time. The last kiss he’d ever give her. “I love you, Zoey.”
The words were soft, barely whispered, and he half-hated himself for saying it, and was half-glad that he’d taken that risk.
Her eyes widened in surprise at the confession. “Oh, Kaden...”
“I know,” he said, and brushed a thumb along the edge of her delicate jaw. “It’s too soon. That’s fine. You don’t have to say anything. I just wanted to say it to you.”
She gave him a soft, shy smile. “Maybe I’ll say it to you when we wake up.”
His heart ached. “Maybe so.”
Kaden detangled from the wires and stepped back out of the pod. He
double-checked her vitals, and then watched in silence as the door slid shut. The chamber was entirely enclosed, a small portal window over her face the only thing that allowed him to see her wink. A few moments later, her eyelids began to droop and she laid her head back against the stasis chamber.
And then, she was asleep.
Ah, fuck. Now it was just him and the endless depths of outer space.
“Chamber one in full stasis,” the computer intoned, so much more stiff and formal than the Alcestis’s own computer. “Functionality at 100%.”
He tapped to bring up chamber four.
“Chamber four: functionality at sixty-two percent.”
Well. He might as well get to work. While the sprint drive powered up, he assessed his own pod. The wires and life support systems seemed to be fine. The thick, temperature-regulating glass had multiple fractures through it, though. He pulled out the ship’s first aid kit and taped both sides of the glass where it was fractured, trying to reinforce it. He fixed the wiring, cleaning off any corrosion on resistors. And he had the computer run another diagnostic.
“Functionality at seventy-one percent.”
Fuck. “Likelihood that passenger will survive full stasis for two months?”
The computer paused for a moment. “Forty-two percent.”
Not great odds. “Likelihood that passenger will survive full stasis for two years?”
“Eight percent.”
Damn. He looked over at Zoey’s pod, touched the glass, wishing he could touch her face again. There was time to record a quick goodbye, at least, before he had to get into his own pod...
And then just hope for the best.
Sitting in the only chair in the small pod, he undocked from the Cephalon and shuttled away from where the Alcestis was anchored next to her. He gave a salute to the screen, his last view of the small ship that had been home for two months.
Two long, boring months... and the best and worst week of his life.
Sighing heavily, he leaned forward and began to plot out the course for their lifepod. The sprint could warp them light-years in a matter of seconds, and he carefully mapped out the trajectory, mindful of planetary rotations and asteroid belts. Any modern computer’s AI would be smart enough to correct and avoid, but of course, he was dealing with an ancient one. Better to hedge their bets. Their course would take them on the fringes of the closest nearby star system, and then begin to send a distress signal. Just out of range of the solar storm, to be safe.
The problem with a distress signals was that it could take months and months on end before it got picked up.
And once again, he was finding he didn’t have the time.
Course plotted, he felt the tiny craft hum, shivering with the dark matter engine firing up. It was nearly deafening, and when it was rocketing full blast, it’d go on for weeks. Time to record his message now. He plugged in the micro-messenger that he’d smuggled in when Zoey hadn’t been paying attention. A screen lit up in the open air, and he watched the screen.
It flashed a light. Recording. He ran a hand down his face, then turned to face the camera. “Zoey. If you get this message and I’m not standing right next to you, well... I knew when we got in the stasis chambers that this was a one-way trip...”
Day 390
Fuzzy red light shone behind Zoey’s eyelids.
“Science Officer Maldonado. Can you hear me?”
“Is she responding?” Another voice whispered.
Through the muddy haze of exhaustion, Zoey shifted, her muscles protesting. Why did her entire body ache so much? Her ass felt like she’d been sitting on it for ages, and her feet tingled as if asleep.
“Increasing oxygen levels to normal. Her vitals are good, unlike the other. She should come around in a minute. We’ll give her time to wake up.”
Waking up was the last thing she wanted to do. But she yawned, forcing her eyes open. A doctor in a sterile plas-uniform, mouth covered with a sanitation mask, hovered over her pod.
“She’s becoming alert,” he said, his voice tinny from the filters. “Science Officer Maldonado, your vitals are good. Are you in pain or feeling any numbness?”
Zoey raised a hand to scrub at her eyes—they felt so gritty—and realized she was still covered with wires and sensors from the chamber. “I’m fine,” she told them slowly. “Just stiff.”
Her mind was disoriented, and she was having a hard time thinking straight. That sort of thing always happened after waking up from a stasis sleep, though. Of course, at the moment, she couldn’t remember why she was in stasis...
“Emergency team to chamber four,” someone said in a rush. “He’s flatlining—”
The two doctors turned away, replaced by a nurse that began to pluck the sensors off her skin. “Science Officer Maldonado, I’m going to get you free of this and then we need to head to the sick bay. Once you’ve been cleared by the medical team, you’ve been court-martialed for an appearance in front of the tribunal.”
Tribunal? Something must be wrong. “Of course,” she said, still foggy. When her arm was freed, she rubbed her face. Nearby, the other doctors rushed to unhook the other chamber. Someone was griping about the primitive technology while another worked, pumping at someone’s chest. She couldn’t see who it was—the chamber was laid flat. The glass of the door had been shattered, it looked like, covered in tape and striated with cracks. How odd.
Her mind twinged and a nervousness began in her gut. Something was wrong. But what? “I can’t think straight,” she admitted to the nurse.
“You’ve been in stasis for thirteen months, honey. It’s going to take a bit to wear off,” the nurse said, all practicality as she plucked off more wires. “Just give yourself a moment and remain calm. We’re doing everything we can for your friend.”
My... friend?
A rush of memory flooded through her mind. A smile. A warm mouth on hers. Making love in the pilot’s chair in the cabin. His laugh.
“Kaden,” she choked, her mind full of him. With horror, she turned to pod four, where the doctors hovered. What had they said?
He’s flatlining—
“No,” she cried out, jerking out of the pod and struggling free of the nurse. “Kaden! What’s wrong with him?”
“Science officer, you need to calm down—” the nurse began, trying to push her back down into the pod. “Remain still for a bit longer.”
Zoey pushed free of the woman’s grabbing hands and leaped out of the pod. Kaden’s pod... it had been shattered? Somehow? Hot tears gathered but she pushed them back, scrambling forward to look at him. She had to see him for herself, had to know...
Inside his pod, a dark figure lay crumpled, sensors dotting tattooed arms. One leg was dark, seemingly withered. His torso was pale, striated with the same black lines, as if he’d somehow been sick. His mouth was blue around the edges, his cheeks sunken.
“He’s flatlining again,” one of the doctors said. “Lay him out. Clear!”
“Kaden!” she screamed.
“Someone get her out of here,” a doctor shouted even as she pushed to his side.
He’d held her so close. Loved her. Comforted her.
I love you, Zoey.
And she hadn’t had the balls to tell him back. Maybe I’ll tell you when we land, she’d teased, momentarily taken aback by his seriousness.
“He’s not going to make it,” one of the doctors said.
“Kaden!” she screamed again. No, no, this wasn’t happening. They were going to do this together. Go on a long vacation on the beaches of Europa 13 together. He was going to hold her again and kiss her.
Strong hands tackled her and dragged her away. “Please come with us, Science officer Maldonado,” a man said in a crisp voice, and she barely glanced at the dark uniform of the Tribunal Military Police.
“He’s not responding,” one doctor said, just as they dragged Zoey away through a door.
This wasn’t happening. Not to Kaden.
They were supposed
to get out of this together.
#
They wouldn’t tell her anything at the lab. Classified, they’d say. Everything was classified. Instead, they ran a barrage of tests over her, both physical and mental, to assure themselves she was fine.
Oh, she was fine, all right. But she was frantic with worry, her heart rate accelerated. Eventually, they’d had to dose her with a sedative and taken her to military police quarters.
Her story—and the records they’d brought from the Alcestis—directly conflicted with the records given to them by Dr. Ian Nevis, who had declared the Alcestis lost in space many months ago. Zoey and the crew had been declared legally dead, the officer in charge of the investigation explained, and she was going to remain quarantined from all outside influences until the truth of the matter was determined.
He’d left her with a small package on the foot of her bunk—her things that she’d brought with her from the Alcestis. She’d been so anxious and tense that the nurses on duty had given her a sedative. Zoey had stared off into space, drugged, for hours on end.
Kaden, she thought, over and over again. Kaden. What had happened from the time she’d gone into stasis that had caused it to all go so wrong?
Eventually, the drugs began to wear off, and she tried to open the door to go out, see if she could get some answers.
Locked.
Restless and trapped, she went through the motions. She brushed her teeth, showered, and readied for bed. Her room was devoid of vidscreen or reading materials; they hadn’t been joking when they said they were going to keep her quarantined. Quarantined from everything, it’d seem.
The small package of her things sat at the foot of her cot and she idly picked it up. Her clothes that she’d worn in stasis, the research notes she’d scribbled in her paper journal. A small vidpic cartridge. She picked it up, frowning. She didn’t remember this. Zoey clicked on the button to activate it.
“Zoey.” Kaden’s beautiful, strong face loomed in the screen, his unshaven jaw so sexy. His hair was tousled, and he looked exhausted. And sad. “If you get this message and I’m not standing right next to you, well... I knew when we got in the chambers that this was a one-way trip...”
