Rubicon Crossing

by Ralph Prince

  “If that is so,” Oaklander said, turning slowly toward his subordinate, “how was he able to escape the tower? How does he now defend the tunnel below?”

  Cringing under the master’s scrutiny, Stitch feebly replied, “There were only two people in the tunnel when I delivered your message—a man and a woman wearing clothing like Garris, but he was not with them. He claimed to be only one of the users of the blue flame. Perhaps he is dead.”

  “Garris was not among them?” the Tant leader reiterated thoughtfully.

  “Nor was the female we captured,” Stitch added, surprised by his master’s uncharacteristic placidity. “Perhaps they are both dead.”

  “He is alive,” Oaklander said, his gaze passing beyond his advisor to the entrance of the building. “I can feel it. I will have him in my grasp again, and I will squeeze the secret of the blue flame from his wretched body before I kill him. He will not find escape so easy next time.”

  “What of the beast that flies through the air and spews forth the blue fire?” Stitch asked, recalling the accounts of the Tants who had pursued the outsiders from the tower. “How will you fight that if he calls upon it again?”

  “You fool,” the leader said, his tone nearing its normal thunderous level. “If there were such a beast, where is it now? It was obviously a trick of some kind, or a lame excuse the guards devised to cover their own incompetence. We have nothing to fear from...” he paused as a word from his childhood returned to him. It was a word his mother had used to frighten him into submission when he was unruly. “From dragons,” he concluded.

  Stitch was intrigued by his master’s knowledge of the creature, having never before heard of such a beast. He considered asking more about it, but thought better of it as he noticed Oaklander’s angry expression.

  “Master?” he asked, hoping to change the subject as quickly as possible. “If the Underdwellers accept your offer and deliver Garris, what will you do with them?”

  Oaklander’s twisted face contorted into an evil grin; one Stitch had seen many times in the past. “Once Garris is out of the way,” he said, “and the blue flame is mine to control, there will be nothing to prevent me from crushing the Underdwellers like the insects they are.”

  “But you said you would let them leave the city,” said Stitch, hoping he hadn’t misunderstood the master’s message.

  “I lied, you fool!” Oaklander shouted, causing the smaller Tant to cower. “You don’t think after all the time I’ve spent searching for the Underdwellers that I would just let them go, do you? Once they come out of their hole, they will be at our mercy, and Tants show no mercy.”

  Stitch regarded his leader pensively, “What of the other outsiders?” he hazard to ask. “They too use the blue flame. Won’t they be helping the Underdwellers?”

  “They are of no concern to me,” Oaklander said, calmness returning to his tone. “Garris is obviously their leader. Experience has taught me if you take away a strong leader, the rest topple.”

  Turning back toward the sun, Oaklander bellowed out his evil laugh, sending it echoing through the city.

  Stitch considered asking his plans for the dragon, but decided it wasn’t the time. The master seemed in good spirits, and that wasn’t something he wanted to interfere with. Instead, he joined in with his own sinister snickering.

  CHAPTER 2: The Calm Before the Storm

  Jackie sat against the wall behind the second set of barriers, pulling items from her medical kit, while Will paced nervously before her, shaking his head despondently.

  “It’s no use,” he said, disengaging his communicator. “I just can’t contact the ship from down here. Even the hallway must be shielded from transmission waves.”

  “Don’t worry,” Jackie said, as she applied a patch of artificial skin to her blistered hand. “The Tants seem to have given up on the direct assaults for now. That gives us time to rest and come up with a new strategy.”

  “You mean other than sitting here waiting to die?” Will asked, sitting next to her. “I’ve programmed the schematics and specifications of the shelter into my computer and input the parameters for both the Tants and Underdwellers, including us. So far, I’ve run a dozen scenarios, and all of them have us running out of energy cells long before running out of Tants. That’s not even considering the food situation. We’re out of ration-tabs, and we don’t know whether the food on the upper level is safe to eat or not. Granted, they grow and breed some food down here, but how long can that last? There are going to be a lot of hungry people down here before too long. Since they can’t give Don to the Tants, they might just consider giving us to them instead.”

  “What more can we do?” Jackie asked, realizing he was probably right. “We taught some of the Underdwellers to use the photon rifles so we don’t have to hold the entrance alone anymore. By rotating personnel, we should be able to hold off any further advances until the power cells are depleted. We can’t count on help from Don or your computer. We can’t leave because the Tants are probably swarming all over the place up there.”

  “So, essentially what you’re saying,” Will said, “is it looks like we’re on our own.”

  “You are not entirely alone,” Stanton said, startling the two as he stepped from the darkness, leading young Victor by the hand. “If it becomes necessary, the Underdwellers will fight their way out. They are tired of living in fear of the Tants.”

  Jackie wondered how long the elder native had been standing beyond the fringe of their light, and how much he had overheard.

  “Your bravery is commendable,” Will said, in answer to Stanton’s comment, “but this complex’s defensive structure works both ways. We can keep the Tants out, but they can just as easily keep us in. In fact, the shaft works more to their advantage than to ours. A counterattack would be suicidal. The Tants can just sit up there and wait us out.”

  Victor released Stanton’s hand and knelt next to Jackie as she began applying synthetic skin to Will’s blistered palm.

  “You have a point there,” Stanton agreed. “Oaklander may have figured that out, and that’s why the attacks have stopped. You are correct that our food supplies cannot sustain us without supplementing it by hunting and foraging. What about the food you mentioned? You said it was on an upper level?”

  As Jackie had feared, the Underdweller had heard more of their conversation than she would have liked.

  “Yes,” Will answered. “We found some food on an upper level of the complex, but we aren’t sure it’s safe to eat.”

  “We would rather none of the other Underdwellers know about this,” Jackie added. “At least not until we’ve had a chance to test it on our ship.”

  “I understand, Lieutenant Monet,” Stanton said, nodding his head. “However, if it comes to either starving to death or trying the food….”

  “Of course,” Jackie said, finishing the repair on Will’s hand. “But, hopefully, it won’t come to that.”

  “Me next,” Victor said, extending his hand, palm upward, toward Jackie.

  Placing a small patch in the center of his palm, she smiled at the boy as he examined it in wonder.

  “You have reminded me of something I had almost forgotten,” Stanton said, a weak smile crossing his aged face. “There is always hope. A dear friend—Karen and Dillon’s father—once dreamed of a world where the Underdwellers no longer lived in fear of the Tants. He died trying to make that dream come true. Perhaps that day is close at hand. Even death does not seem so bad when you are dying for a cause. Now, if you will excuse me, I have matters to attend to elsewhere. Come along, boy.”

  “Please, I stay,” Victor pleaded, tugging on Jackie’s arm.

  “He can stay with us,” she agreed, unable to resist his large, puppyish eyes. “I don’t think the Tants will come back for a while, and if they do, we’ll send him back to the caves.”

  “Very well,” Stanton agreed, shaking his finger at the boy. “You be good, and do as you’re told.”

  “I wi
ll,” Victor consented hesitantly.

  Nodding, Stanton turned away and started back down the hallway.

  Jackie watched as he departed. The Underdweller’s demeanor concerned her. Despite their current situation, he seemed calm and accepting of their imminent doom. He spoke of hope and the future, but had the air of a man who was weary of the burden of life and had nothing left to lose. It frightened her to think of how many of his people might feel the same way.

  “Thanks for the patch up,” Will said, flexing his hand to test the new skin. “It hardly hurts at all anymore.”

  “Thanks for the patch up,” Victor mimicked, once again inspecting the patch of artificial skin.

  “Don’t mention it,” Jackie replied, addressing them both. “It shouldn’t blister as easily next time; I put on a few extra layers. If it weren’t for the intoxicating effect, I would have used the bio-mend.”

  Looking into her emerald eyes, Will couldn’t suppress a smile. “You’re one special kind of lady, Jackie,” he said. “I just can’t figure out why the captain and you haven’t—”

  “Hold it,” she interrupted. “First, thanks for the compliment. Second, I already told you the thing between Don and me is over; we’re just friends; even that takes a lot of work. He’s too rambunctious for me. I would worry myself to death over him if we were any closer. I like the down-to-earth type. You know, someone who exhibits a little caution occasionally.”

  “I can see your point there,” Will said, nodding his head. “I hope you find someone like that someday. You deserve the best.”

  “I would settle for you,” she said bluntly. “At least until ‘the best’ comes along.”

  “I—I—” Will stammered, caught off guard. “I’m not sure what to say. You’ve shut me down every time I’ve tried to get closer, and made it all too clear that I’m not your type. This isn’t another joke, is it?”

  “We’ve been through a lot together,” she said, her tone lacking its usual frivolity. “I’ve seen you change over the past week, and I like what I’ve seen. You’re not the shallow, spoiled, arrogant brat you appeared to be. Underneath all that, you’re compassionate, intelligent,” then smiling broadly, “and your father is rich. What more could a girl ask for?”

  “A charming personality and a dashingly handsome face?” he suggested.

  “Let’s stick to the rich father,” she said teasingly.

  Victor yawned, this game wasn’t as fun as the other games his new friends had played. Huddling against the wall, he closed his eyes, and let sleep overtake him.

  “Has anyone ever told you you’re beautiful?” Will asked, caressing Jackie’s cheek.

  “You must be kidding,” she responded. “My hair’s a mess, I’m covered in blood and gore, and I haven’t had a shower or decent nights’ sleep in days. I must look hideous.”

  “Not to me,” he replied. “I think you’re gorgeous.”

  “If you keep talking like that,” she warned, “I may never take a shower again.”

  “Maybe a little hideous,” he said quickly, “but just a little.”

  Smiling, she nestled in his arms and rested her head upon his shoulder. Closing her eyes, she felt the weariness of the past few days begin to overtake her. Slowly, she faded into a long overdue sleep, not caring what the future held in store for them. For the present, they had each other.

  CHAPTER 3: Do Not Go Gentle

  Don leaned back in the chair and closed his eyes. Between the fever, the dizziness, and the drowsiness, he found it nearly impossible to think. Kneeling at his side, Karen dried his sweat-drenched face, and tried to make him as comfortable as possible. He resisted her every effort.

  “Donald, please,” she begged as he once again leaned forward. “You should go back to bed before you make it any worse. You’re beginning to bleed again.”

  “No!” he shouted, pulling away from her and almost plunging headlong from the chair. “I can’t. There’s too much to do.”

  “I agree with Karen,” Iva said, showing no lingering side effects from the cohabitation of her consciousness with the Overseer. She stood behind the pilot’s chair with her arms folded tightly across her midsection. “There is virtually nothing you can do in your current physical state. Your being here is only endangering your life, and I can’t see where that will benefit the rest of us in any way.”

  “Jackie and Will,” Don said delirious with pain. “We must contact them.”

  “I assure you it is impossible to contact them so long as they remain in the shelter, Iva insisted. “However, the sensor beams are able to penetrate the outer hallway of the structure, and I have determined they are uninjured. The same cannot be said for you.”

  “The Overseer,” he began, but was unable to complete the statement.

  “As I told you,” the agent persisted, “I retained his entire conversation with you, and am currently assessing the situation to ascertain the validity of his claims. There is also considerable residual information, which I am attempting to sort out. If I may say so, I found his violation most unsettling.”

  “Listen to her,” Karen pleaded, steadying Don as he wavered in the chair. “She has everything under control. Please, go back to bed. You’ll heal more quickly if you rest.”

  Her voice sounded vague and distant, and her concerned features blurred out of focus. Drawing labored breaths through clenched teeth, he clasped his hand over the sticky stain on his shirt. Closing his eyes, he relaxed, and mentally suppressed the pain.

  “Karen,” he said after several minutes, “forgive me. I’ve failed you.”

  “No, Donald,” she said, tears forming in her eyes. Her heart shattered, seeing him in such pain. “You haven’t failed me,” she continued, gently caressing his stubbled cheek. “You’ve given me so much, and made me happier than I’ve ever been before. I know you would do anything for me—even die. But do you care enough to live for me?”

  The tremble in her voice, and the turbulent emotions reflected in her blue-gray eyes wrenched at his heart. The fervent passion he felt for her transcended mere lust; it was a pure and all-consuming love. The thought of being separated from her pained him more than the Tant’s blade had. Staring into her eyes, he knew her passion mirrored his own.

  “Help me,” he said. “Help me make it back to my quarters.”

  “At last,” Iva said, “some trace of that genetically enhanced intellect. I suggest you help him before he changes his mind again.”

  With his arm around her shoulder, Karen hefted him from the chair, nearly collapsing under his unbalanced weight. The loss of blood from the transfusion had left her weak as well, though she refused to show it. As she guided him across the bridge, his footing became more stable, and the effort of supporting him was greatly lessened.

  When they finally reached the cabin, he fell limply to the bed, the last of his endurance expended. Sleep quickly engulfed him.

  ♦ ♦ ♦

  His heart pounded in time with his footsteps as he sprinted toward engineering. The hallway seemed to extend forever. Finally, he reached the partially open hatch and stopped, peering into the smoke-filled room. It was quiet except for the sound of electricity crackling and a feeble cough from the chamber beyond the portal. The photon engines were silent.

  He found it strange, because this wasn’t where the nightmare usually began. He found it stranger still that he was aware it was a nightmare.

  He didn’t want to enter the room; he knew what he would find within. It was just a dream, and he should be able to wake up or return to the bridge; but his body continued following the nightmare’s course, heedless of his wishes. He rapidly descended the stairs and skirted the fallen duct, bracing himself for what he knew he would find.

  He stood before the engineering station, with his eyes tightly closed. The odor of burnt flesh nearly caused him to retch. He didn’t want to open his eyes. In the hundreds of times he had relived this moment, he never wanted to open his eyes, yet he always did. Of their own volit
ion, his eyelids parted and he looked down upon the plasma-burned body of … Inga Schmidt.

  “This isn’t right,” he said, his voice echoing through the room. “This should be Victor.”

  “So, b’y” a voice asked from behind him, “you finally admit that me being in that chair is right, eh?”

  Don turned toward the voice, scarcely believing his eyes. “Vic?” he asked.

  The man standing before him shrugged his shoulders and smiled.

  “This is just a dream,” Don said.

  “A dream? Or the realm between your universe and mine?” Victor’s phantasm pondered. “Maybe they’re one and the same. I don’t really know anything about philosophy.”

  “I must be going crazy,” Don said, trying to wake himself from the twisted version of his nightmare.

  “Or psychology,” Victor added. “That would be Jackie’s department.”

  “Why are you here?” Don asked, trying to look away, but finding himself unable to. The dream felt so real to him.

  “You mean instead of there?” Victor asked, indicating the chair where Inga gasped for breath. “I don’t know. Maybe it’s to make a point. If I’m not there, chances are you wouldn’t be here.”

  “You were never so cryptic,” Don said skeptically. “Who are you really? The Overseer?”

  “You just don’t get it, do you b’y?” Victor said, circling Don to stand beside Inga. He gently caressed her burned face, causing her to moan in pain. “The universe has a plan—we may never understand it, but it does. Things happen so the plan stays on track. To get to a certain point in the future, specific events must happen in the past; otherwise, the future goes down the biffy.”

  “What?” Don asked, his mind reeling with confusion. “Vic, you’re not making sense. None of this makes sense.”

  “It makes perfect sense,” Victor insisted, as Inga let out a gasp and went limp. “The universe needed you to be at this point in space and time. Ask yourself: would you be here now if it had been anyone besides me in that chair? Eh?”