Blue Sky Tomorrows

by L. J. Hachmeister

  Cam shook out his throbbing fist, sensing the breaks in the bones but not giving it a second thought. Calmer now, he remembered his plan, what he needed to do with Stempton.

  Crouching down to grab his datapad off the floor, Cam whispered to the freckle-faced boy, “you’ll wish I finished you.”

  As he walked out of the barracks, the other kids ran out of his way, avoiding him at all costs. In the back of his mind, an old memory tried to form, one that would have challenged his anger and the hatred that numbed his pain.

  For you, Kara, he thought, signaling a lift with the curled fingers of his broken hand. Because there are no tomorrows.

  Chapter 21

  Skipping breakfast, Cam sat alone at his desk in his empty chemistry class, going through the list of lectures he’d missed while recovering.

  I don’t remember any of this, Cam thought, pulling up one of the lessons on polymers. And yet, as he scrolled through the talking points, everything read as a review, stirring up knowledge he didn’t know he possessed.

  What the hell?

  He pulled a second lecture, a third; all of them made sense to him, bringing to light concepts and information he shouldn’t know.

  I couldn’t have picked all of this up while… he paused, eyes falling to the desk not far from his. …while asleep?

  (While Jahx read to me—)

  —On more occasions than he probably remembered.

  Something heavy and hot crawled into his belly. Closing out the lectures, he called up the research project Jahx had all but completed aside from the final calculations. Due that day, he didn’t think Jahx would have waited for him to turn it in, but as the project unfolded across his desk on the holographic projectors, he sat back in his chair as the empty slots of the final calculations flashed in red.

  He waited. Even if it meant failing the project. Why, Jahx?

  Cam looked at his uniform sleeve. Twenty minutes until class started.

  No way I could figure this out, he thought, knotting his fingers in his hair. And yet, as his eyes darted back and forth across the numbers and letters, his mind snagged on one point, then another.

  Well, this can’t be here, he thought, rearranging the reaction coordinate energy diagram. By the time he finished the last calculation, the first few students trickled in.

  “Hey!”

  Cam looked up. Jahx, blue eyes lit by his smile, greeted him with unexpected cheer as he climbed the stairs. “I’m so glad you made it.”

  Blushing, Cam hid his broken hand under the desk as he fumbled with holographics.

  “Oh, nice—you finished the project.”

  Jahx studied the calculations for a moment, face unreadable; serious. Nervous that he did something wrong, Cam blurted: “I shouldn’t have even tried. It’s probably all wrong—”

  “It’s right. It’s all correct,” Jahx said, smile returning to his face.

  “But how…?” Again, Cam couldn’t explain his own turnaround. Baffled, relieved and upset, he couldn’t decide what to say, or what to do next as Jahx hit save and pulled up the same project on his datapad.

  “With two minutes to spare,” he chuckled, sending off their project to the teacher’s inbox. “Great job.”

  “I don’t understand this,” Cam said as Jahx took his seat and faced the front of the class.

  “You don’t have enough faith in yourself,” Jahx said, turning on his desk and fiddling with his interfaces. “You’re here for a reason, remember?”

  Cam said nothing, words failing him as conflicting emotions he couldn’t name churned inside him. He didn’t show up to class to finish the project or take the test with any hopes of passing. He just needed to buy some time, to go through the motions—

  (And see him)

  —before he set the final parts of his plan in motion.

  “Good morning, class,” the professor Rotu said, standing behind the teacher’s desk in the front of the class. The rest of the students hurried to their seats. Cam caught sight of Stempton walking up the stairs, red-eyed and furious. “Ah, cadet Ferros. I’m glad to see you could make it for the final.”

  The entire class turned to him. Stempton, a wild grin upon his face as he took his seat, whispered up to him: “You’re finished, rub.”

  “You’ll have one hour to complete the test,” Rotu said, typing in a set of commands to his desk to send out the exam to the students.

  As Cam selected the test icon on his desk, a private message from an anonymous sender flashed in the bottom corner. When he swiped it open, the image of a red chip popped up along with a note: Don’t even bother.

  Cam ground his teeth together. In the end, he figured the biochem test would be a moot point anyway, but some part of him, however stupid and ridiculous, wanted to at least try.

  No point now. Not if Stempton uploaded the chip and ruined his profile like he threatened.

  Cradling his broken hand, he edged toward panic, his breaths shorter and quicker as reprimanded himself. I shouldn’t have hit him.

  Or threatened him after he was down.

  Stupid. I’m not good at these kinds of things—

  (No tomorrows).

  No tomorrows. He reminded himself of his own endgame, of the ultimate objective. In the end, it didn’t matter if Stempton ruined him, only that he kept the Crexan from doing so for just a little bit longer.

  Cam got up and walked down the stairs, pausing by Stempton’s desk long enough to say in a dry and even tone, “I’ll do it,” before walking toward the door.

  “Cadet Ferros—leaving so soon?”

  “It’s broken,” he said, raising his deformed right hand for the professor, and all the class, to see.

  “How did you—?”

  “Accident,” he said, cutting off the professor before he could question him too much further.

  “Go to the infirmary,” Rotu said, sighing as he waved him away. “But you’re taking this exam today, or you’ll fail the class.”

  Before he turned, he caught Stempton’s eye. Still angered, but caught up in his own satisfaction, the Crexan stared back. He wouldn’t attack him—not yet—only after he’d finished the freckle-faced boy’s dirty work.

  As he walked out the door, he couldn’t help but feel another pair of eyes on his back. An ache swelled inside his chest, snagging at his breath and making him pause as he signaled for a lift.

  (What am I doing?)

  Righting himself, he made a fist with his broken hand, letting the pain quell his nerves. He felt the coarse fibers of a red scarf against his palm, the weight of a limp body against his own.

  Whatever I have to.

  ***

  As much as he didn’t want to return to the infirmary, Cam didn’t see any way out of it, not with Rotu able to keeps tabs on his compliance. Behind every closed patient door, he imagined Iggie tied to a bed, tubes and wires draped from her body, and a machine monster hiding in the shadows.

  Stop it, he told himself, walking up to the triage station at the end of the long white hallway. Keep it together.

  “You again?” The beak-faced nurse popped up behind the desk.

  Maio!

  As she sized him up from across the counter, yellow eyes looking him up and down, he thought of nothing but the exit. “What is it this time, cadet?”

  Chak. Not her. He looked around for Reppen, but he hadn’t seen the kind nurse since—

  (That nightmare?)

  “Well?” she said, rapping her knuckles on the counter.

  His gut screamed out at him: (Her name was on the list for the “beta trials!”)

  Screw it—

  “Sorry—nothing,” he muttered, protecting his swollen hand behind his other arm and turning on his heels to walk right back out.

  “Stop right there, cadet,” she barked. With a scowl, she circled around, the other staff dodging out of her way.

  Cam could nothing as she pulled out his arm and zeroed in on his swollen hand. Waving a scanner over his injury, her eye
s widened, then resumed their usual glower. “Get to bay five,” she said, pointing to an isolated bay at the end of the ward as she typed something into her sleeve communicator.

  It’ll be okay, he told himself. It just needs casting. She can’t do anything else.

  Cam did as she instructed, sitting on the edge of the stretcher until she returned. Staring straight ahead, he tried not to offer her any clues of how much her presence unnerved him, or the sight of any medical equipment, as she turned on the monitors.

  “Cadet Ferros.”

  Cam jerked at the sound of his voice. A dour-faced doctor entered the medical bay, blue scrubs darkened by wet splotches around the chest and thighs, tugging off his black gloves and throwing them at the trash. Cam didn’t recognize him at first, not until he saw his flinty eyes, and connected them to the sound of his voice.

  Naum!

  Cam diverted his gaze, staring at the floor, gripping the end of the bed with this good hand.

  “What is the problem?” he asked, standing in front of Cam, hands behind his back.

  Cam couldn’t think of a response, only the sound of a drill, and the ghosted ache of his sternum and forearm.

  Maio handed him her bioscanner.

  “Metacarpal fractures, heterotopic ossification,” he said, reading off the results. Excitement crept into his voice. “Interesting; accelerated growth at 135%. Prep him for surgery, nurse Kull.”

  “What?!” Cam shot out of the bed, but Maio caught him by the chest and slammed him back down.

  I don’t need surgery—

  Maio dug her clawed fingers into his shoulders, pinning him down.

  (He’s going to vivisect me—)

  He pushed against her neck as she let go of one side and reached for something in his pocket, but Naum aided her, holding down Cam’s legs.

  “Stop right there.”

  Taking advantage of the distraction, Cam elbowed Maio in the face, enough that she squawked and let go of him.

  “He’s not a surgical candidate.”

  Verdebear. The young doctor grabbed on to Naum and pulled him away.

  “You’re out of line, Verdebear,” Naum hissed, stumbling back and catching himself on a med cart. “This is my patient.”

  “You won’t touch that boy,” Verdebear said, putting himself between Naum, Maio and Cam.

  A chill settled over the room as Naum stood tall, slicking back his hair under his surgical cap. “Under who’s authority? Yours?”

  Cam tried to get a better look, but every time he moved, Verdebear stepped back in front of him, obstructing his view. “He’ll recover with a restorative cast.”

  Naum chortled. “Nurse Kull, take the cadet.”

  “Ferros is under the Commandant’s personal protection,” Verdebear countered, holding out his hand to keep the nurse at bay.

  “The Commandant? Since when did you suddenly become his supporter? His dictates are far crueler than mine. This boy is just a plaything to him, where to me—to us—he could be the final solution to this war.”

  “This boy is just a child,” Verdebear said. “As are all the others.”

  What the hell do either of them mean?

  Naum scoffed. “You’re merely delaying the inevitable, doctor. My solution is far better than anything that—” He stopped himself, then restarted, ire marring his pronunciation. “—that beast has to offer.”

  Beast?!

  Verdebear reached in his labcoat and withdrew a cautery wand. The electric blue tip buzzed and sparked as he waved it at Kull when she tried to take a step closer. “This is all going to end.”

  “You’re right, doctor,” Naum said. Cam jumped at the chill to his voice. Scooting back to the headboard, he enabled himself a view of all three of them. “Rogman’s faith is misplaced in this whole operation. And so is yours.”

  Kull struck first, grabbing an IV pole and slamming it down against Verdebear’s head and shoulder. The young doctor screamed but managed to slice the cautery wand across the nurse’s abdomen as she charged him. Wet, pink intestines flopped out of the charred and opened wound.

  Grabbing a hypoinjector from a drawer, Naum readied to attack as Kull clutched her spilt intestines and stumbled into the stunned Verdebear. But he didn’t set his sights on the other doctor.

  He’s going to kill me—

  Cam looked around the room in panic as the surgeon approached him, hypo in front of him, poised like a weapon. Monitors, tray tables, gauze—nothing would help—

  Except—

  Core zero. The blue button; the one he remembered in his own room, affixed just above his bed by the monitors. It would bring others—

  Naum moved faster than he anticipated, latching onto his leg as Cam lunged for the button. Kicking and fighting, Cam rolled onto his back on the bed, as Naum wrenched him back.

  “Ferros—” Verderbear, head bleeding from Kull’s blow, fell against Naum as the surgeon depressed the hypo into Cam’s leg, taking him to the ground.

  “Chak,” Cam said. Despite the barrier of his pants, coolness dispersed around his calf and up into his thigh.

  He got me. Or at least partially. Cam’s head swam in circles as he tried to crawl back up to the bed, to the emergency call button. The world seesawed back and forth as he batted at the button, unable to get a firm fix on its shifting location.

  Come on—

  His hand bashed against the button. Overhead lights came on in full, illuminating the entire room. Sirens sounded. He slumped back down in the bed. Others will come.

  They’d save him.

  Then, as he looked over at Kull, crumpled in a heap, trying to scoop her bloodied intestines back into her body, and Naum, hands wrapped around Verdebear’s neck, an old haunt whispered in his ear: “Kill the enemy before he’s got a chance to kill you.”

  Nobody’s coming to save me.

  And nobody ever would.

  Launching himself off the bed, Cam slammed into Naum. In the confusion of the scuffle, he couldn’t tell his own legs and arms from Naum’s, or Verdebear’s, flailing and punching at anything he could connect with.

  “You little bastard,” Naum hissed, grabbing him by the neck. Cam bucked his hips, sending the surgeon forward. Grabbing Naum’s arm and rolling out, Cam ended up on top, but not for long as the surgeon cocked back a leg and kicked at his face.

  Cam ducked, but misjudged the angle, and the surgeon clipped his ear. Knocked onto his side, Cam lay dazed, facing the bed, unable to tell which direction to push himself up.

  The cautery wand. It lay under the bed, blue tip still ignited. As Naum attacked his neck again, Cam snatched it up and brought it up to the surgeon’s face.

  “Recommend vivisection—”

  “No!” he screamed. Mind spinning, he sliced wildly, garbled screams and the stench of burning flesh filling the air.

  Naum let go of him, slumping to the ground.

  Shouts and the anti-grav carts approached. In the confusing swirl of sights and sounds, Cam thought enough to find Verdebear amongst the wounded medical staff. The doctor, passed out alongside the dead nurse, head wound bleeding out onto the white tiles, saved him. The realization cut into him as he placed the cautery wand into the palm of the doctor’s hand and stumbled back into the bed.

  “We’ve got four down,” someone shouted. Splayed out on his side, Cam didn’t look to see the rescue team that rushed inside and assessed the grisly scene. Hands turned him over, lights shined in his eyes.

  “Cadet—can you hear me? Cadet, wake up. What happened here?”

  He didn’t respond to any of their questions, allowing himself to sink lower into the swirl of whatever Naum had injected him with. Instead, he listened to the commotion of the medical team tending to the bloodbath next to him.

  “Massive head trauma—”

  “I can’t get a pulse.”

  “—cut straight through his trachea and carotids—

  “Active bleeder—”

  “Prep her for surgery—”
>
  “—she won’t make it—”

  “—alert the Commandant—”

  Cam closed his eyes, drifting even lower. As the other staff drew off his blood and shouted about his abnormal chemistries, he tried not to think of anything but his own endgame. Curling up his broken hand into a throbbing fist and steeling himself to the young doctor’s fate, he whispered, “don’t wake up.”

  Chapter 22

  The rough feel of starched sheets against his skin made no sense. Neither did the snoring sounds and steady drone of the air ventilation system. As his eyes came into focus, he recognized the drab, gray walls and the metal beams.

  My bunk—

  Groaning, Cam turned over from his left to his right shoulder. Everything ached, liked he’d been stuck in the same position for hours. How’d I get here?

  Nighttime. Or at least lights-out. Only the floor strips lit up the dark barracks, with the overhead light illuminating the lavatories next to his bunk, and the hooded light at the opposite end to the entrance.

  Cam looked to Tomia and Iggie’s bunks first. Squinting in the dark, he saw only two made, unoccupied beds.

  No…

  Memories trickled back in as he recognized Jetta and Jaeia sleeping in their bunks, and below him, Jahx curled into a fetal position, facing the wall.

  The infirmary.

  That nurse.

  Naum.

  (Verdebear!)

  “Chak,” he muttered. Shucking off the sheets, he noticed the deformity to his right hand. A knob of bone jutted from the backside, and his last two fingers didn’t extend or flex all the way. Still, it didn’t hurt—not as much as when he’d first injured it. It didn’t get fixed.

  But Rogman wouldn’t allow him to be thrown back into his bunk not after—

  (what I did).

  Unless he got away with it. But there should be questions—

  He shouldn’t have been just dumped back in his bunk without interrogation.

  Doubt crept in as he found himself in his usual white sleep shirt and pants. Either it wasn’t real, he thought, remembering the smell of burnt flesh, or this is another one of Rogman’s games.