Pursuing Dreams (The Young Soldier Book 1)

by MK Clark

“You’re a pilot, aren’t you? All you did today was fly that Wasp thing out of there. So why do you look so―” He hesitated, as if grasping for the right word. “Worn?”

  “They aren’t supposed to be piloted from within,” Don answered wearily. “We normally fly them from a remote-control unit. This is the first time I’ve been on the inside a Wasp.”

  “You’re the ranking specialist.”

  “One of them,” Don corrected with a nod.

  “And this is the first time you’ve been inside one?” Tyson asked, incredulous.

  Again, Don nodded.

  “My god, we are going to lose this war!”

  Don didn’t answer, merely leaned against the side of a bunk as Tyson processed it all. His action did not go unnoticed.

  “You said they weren’t supposed to be piloted from within. Why?”

  “Because they’re small and lightweight. It is believed a pilot would not survive a direct hit. Personally, I think it has more to do with this,” he said, indicating himself.

  “What does that mean?” Tyson interrupted him.

  “It puts a lot of stress on the body,” Don answered, picking his words carefully. “I don’t really understand it myself. It’s also very fast, too fast for the body to keep up with. I think all four of us were very lucky to have made it back today.” He shrugged. It was as good a guess as any.

  Tyson nodded. “That will do for now, soldier. We will talk more later. You may do as you wish.”

  Don smiled and gave his friend a salute before falling into his bunk, sleep overcoming him quickly.

  Chapter 29.5

  October 25, 627 T.A.

  “Doctor, you oversaw the recovery of the Project Thornbush workforce, correct?”

  “Yes. I also wrote an extensive report on my findings. I am sure any questions you have can be answered by reading that.”

  “I assure you, it has been read. While educational, it did not contain an adequate solution to our current problem.”

  “Well, then, I don’t see how anything I can say will help you further.”

  “It is not an answer we want from you, just your expertise.”

  “Then I am afraid you have been sent here in error. My expertise retired to a quiet life many years ago.”

  “Could you not be persuaded to simply look at the case file, doctor?”

  “Son, I have lived a long life. I have no desire to relive any part of it, especially that part.”

  “I’m afraid I am going to have to insist, sir.”

  “I see. Then tell me why my experience with the Thornbush project is so desired.”

  “Each of the patients in the case file suffers from high levels of mylanthium exposure.”

  “What kind of levels?”

  “Seven hundred rems.”

  “Seven! What did you do, inject it into their blood stream?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “How many patients are suffering from this?”

  “Just four.”

  “What symptoms have they shown?”

  “Each showed signs of extreme exhaustion after immediate exposure. Shortly thereafter, the patients all entered a kind of comatose state.”

  “What are their ages, genders, and occupations?”

  “Is that truly relevant, doctor?”

  “Of course it is! Do you want my help or not?”

  “Their age group is eighteen to―”

  “Oh, Mother Mary! Is nothing sacred to you people? I told them not to. I gave explicit orders! Never,under any circumstances―”

  “Sir, I―”

  “Pilots! The patients are pilots, aren’t they?”

  “Yes, doctor.”

  “And boys, too, not even full grown men. You should all burn in hell. Those boys should never have been inside those things.”

  “As I understand it, doctor, there was no other choice.”

  “There is always a choice! Now be gone! I wash my hands of this mess.”

  “I’m afraid that is not an option open to you, sir. Travel arrangements have already been made. The case file has been sent to you. Please look over it on your way in.”

  Chapter 30

  November 3, 627 T.A.

  When Don opened his eyes, he was only partly surprised by what he saw. It was his room from the apartment on the Agamemnon. He started to stand, only to find he already was. He was standing exactly where his bed should have been, but it was gone. In fact, as he looked around, he realized everything was gone. The room was completely empty.

  Only it wasn’t, was it? He stared hard into the corner. Yes, he really had seen something there. He took a few steps toward it. A small wooden box rested there. He could see the tiny carvings along the edges, despite the dust covering it. It looked as if it hadn’t been touched in years.

  He hesitated. Something about this wasn’t right. He’d never owned such a box, although it was strangely familiar to him. This sent a shiver down his spine. He glanced toward the door, half expecting to see someone watching him and fearing that there would be. He saw no one. He turned back to the corner, but the box was gone. He was alone again in his empty room.

  I’m dreaming, he thought.

  “Funny thing about dreams,” a voice answered.

  Don spun around, his heart nearly leaping from his chest. Lana was perched on a stool, grinning at him.

  “They always seem to make you more confused, even as they make things clearer.”

  “What do you mean?”

  She giggled and launched off the stool. It disappeared as soon as her feet hit the floor. She gave him a peck on the cheek as she passed. “Come and see.”

  Don raced out the door after her. She was not waiting on the other side. In fact, what should have been a hallway was just another room: Dr. Ward’s room. He turned. His bedroom door was gone, and in its place sat the doctor himself.

  Don jumped backwards.

  “Come, Don, there’s nothing to be afraid of. I’m here to help.”

  “Sure,” Don spat, taking another step back.

  “I just want to talk.”

  Don didn’t answer. Instead, he turned on his heel and ran.

  The doctor shouted after him, the man’s words ringing in his head. “If you keep running away, you will never learn the truth.”

  Don covered his ears, running blindly. Fear had overcome him. It was terrifying and irrational. He could not control it. He could not explain it. It hounded him, spurring him forward.

  He tripped and went sprawling across the ground. He felt hands pick him up. It was Lana.

  She brushed him off and frowned at him. “What are you running from?”

  “Dr. Ward,” Don stated as if that explained everything.

  She leaned around him, as if to see what he meant. “What are you running from?” she asked again, a little confused.

  Don turned and pointed.“From―” he began to explain, only there was no one there. “From nothing,” he answered.

  “That seems like a silly thing to run from.”

  Don turned in surprise. Syke stood where Lana had been. “What?”

  “I said nothing seem like a silly thing to run from.”

  Don gave his head a little shake. It’s a dream, he told himself again. Just go with it. He looked at Syke, who was waiting expectantly. “I wasn’t really running from nothing,” he explained.

  “Then what was it?”

  Don opened his mouth to answer and then found himself shrugging instead. “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Of course it matters! How am I supposed to help you if you don’t talk? You got to open up, man. You can’t fight this by yourself.”

  “What am I fighting?”

  “You tell me.”

  Don let out a frustrated yell. “I don’t know! I don’t know anything!”

  Syke shook his head at this and disappeared. Distantly, Don heard him say, “He isn’t ready for me.”

  Don searched for whomever Syke was talking to, but saw no one. He
felt a hand touch his shoulder and looked up to see Tony. His friend was older than the last time he’d seen him, older and taller.

  “It’s okay, Don,” Tony reassured him. “Just take it easy. You don’t have to face it if you don’t want to.”

  “Face what?” he asked, voice barely a whisper. He didn’t understand.

  Tony shrugged. “I can’t tell you that. I’m not real, after all, just a part of your dream.”

  “Then why are you here?”

  “Because you want me here. You want us here.”

  “Why?” he pleaded.

  “To ask the questions you don’t know how to ask,” Tony said. He gave Don’s shoulder a squeeze and then looked behind him. “I have to go now,” he told Don. His hand turned on an invisible handle, and he stepped through an invisible door.

  “Don?”

  Don closed his eyes, turning reluctantly at Lana’s voice. “Why are you here?”

  “Come and see,” she repeated and grabbed his hand. She pulled him along behind her, the scene changing as they walked. They were back in his room now. The box was back in its corner. It was as if he’d never left. Lana let his hand go. When he turned, she was gone. He glanced at the corner. The box remained. Don made no move toward it, though he knew he should pick it up. Why else would Lana have brought him back here?

  “What are you waiting for, Nugget?”

  “Yo-Yo!” Don breathed, hardly daring to believe he’d heard her voice. She walked into view, hands on her hips. Her lips were pursed into a thin line; she was not happy with him.

  “I said, what are you waiting for? If you know you’re supposed to pick up the box, then pick it up.”

  Don licked his lips as he tried to find the words to explain his hesitation. He did not succeed.

  “What are you afraid of?” she asked gently.

  “Of what will happen when they find out.”

  She smiled. “Very good, but that’s not it, is it?”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Kyomo sighed, and Don could see her decide to change tactics. “What will you accomplish by running?”

  Don shook his head. “It’s not about accomplishing anything. I just don’t want any trouble.”

  “Now that you know about the box, do you think they are ever going to let you be?” she asked.

  Don bit his lip. He knew the answer. No, they won’t.

  “So what are you really afraid of?”

  “What’s inside,” he whispered. “I’m afraid of what’s inside.”

  “Why? It’s just a box.”

  “Because I don’t want to have to choose,” he answered. He felt a knot in his chest unravel the moment the words left his mouth. Again, Kyomo smiled. She began to shimmer. In a moment, she was no longer herself. Instead, she had become Syke.

  “Choose what?”

  Don sighed and then hung his head. “Sides. I don’t want to choose sides.”

  “But haven’t you chosen simply by avoiding the choice?”

  “Yes. No. I don’t know!”

  Syke crossed his arms and scowled at him. “Yes, you do. stop giving up and running away from the answer. Let me help you.”

  “Yes,” Don said dully, “I am picking.”

  “Why are you so upset? There’s nothing wrong with choosing a side.”

  “Because...” he started and then hesitated, searching for the words. “Because it doesn’t feel like a choice, and because I’m too afraid to pick anything else.”

  In the blink of an eye, Syke became Dr. Ward. “What you’re really afraid of, then, is not anyone, anything, or any choice you might have to make. What you’re really afraid of is the unknown.”

  This time, Don didn’t run.

  “I’m just trying to help, Don.”

  Slowly, Don nodded. “Yes.”

  Dr. Ward motioned to the box. “It’s yours, you know.”

  “It’s mine?” he asked, but the doctor was gone. Don glanced back at the box, and after a moment, he walked deliberately forward and knelt in front of it. He was about to pick it up when he saw something glint on the front.

  “It’s locked!” he exclaimed. He suddenly felt angry. If it was his, then why was it locked?

  “You need a key,” came a gentle explanation.

  Don turned very slowly. His heart ached in recognition.

  “I don’t have one.”

  Eli gave him a sad smile. “That’s a shame. It can’t be opened any other way.”

  “Then all of this has been for nothing!”

  “No!” Eli protested. “No, it hasn’t. You have the box. That alone is far more than you had before. All you have to do now is find the key.”

  “How?”

  Eli shook his head. “I cannot tell you, although I daresay your box could use some dusting.”

  Don glanced down. Eli had a point. He reached to do as his friend suggested, and felt his body thrown forward the moment his fingers brushed against the wood.

  He was being led by the hand down a strange hall, although for some reason it didn’t bother him. Instead, he felt quite secure. He knew, without knowing why he knew, that the person who held his hand would never lead him into danger. She would protect him.

  The sound of her heels rang authoritatively with each step, and people parted without need of encouragement at her approach. It made him feel important to be seen with her. He looked up and smiled. Only then did he realize he was no longer quite right in size. In fact, he was very small.

  Don looked around him. He was home now. He knew because it felt like home. His father was arguing quietly with the woman. Don could hear the intensity of his worry, though the words were muffled and distant. More than that, he could see the adoration his father had for the woman. The general’s eyes shifted, landing on Don.

  “You’ve frightened him,” said the woman, and he knew with sudden certainty who she was. She kissed the general. Then she swooped to pick up Don, and he buried his face into his mother’s shoulder. She was warm and soft, and her arms were comforting. He knew she would never let him go.

  “You shouldn’t have brought him.”

  Don looked up. His mother was carrying him down a hall, and a man hurried along beside the two of them. It was Captain Hendricks.

  “What are you saying? I couldn’t leave him behind.”

  “He’s not so young anymore. What if he repeats something?”

  “He speaks nothing but the meaningless prattle of children,” she answered, waving him off.

  “But something heard and then repeated, even if disguised within a child’s babble,” he persisted, “if heard by the right ears, could spell an end for us all.”

  “The right ears?” she laughed. “Who would be listening to him?”

  “Your husband.”

  “I can handle my husband.” Her tone was sharp. “Hendricks, I will not leave my son to the care of another. I do not trust anyone else to look after him properly.”

  The man sighed as much as their pace would allow. “You are very intelligent, but I fear when it comes to your son, you are blind.” She stopped and set Don down, her answer fading from his ears.

  Now he was staring into the face of someone he didn’t know, in a place he didn’t recognize. Something was very, very wrong. He knew this instinctively, and it frightened him. He was pulled into a shadowed corner.

  Hide, came a command, like a thought in his head, only he hadn’t thought it. Hide and don’t come out, no matter what. Then he was alone. It was a feeling he was not accustomed to. He could feel an ache to be with someone, but he didn’t know who. He wanted to leave and go back to where he came from, but he couldn’t remember where that was. He was frightened, but he didn’t know why. He crept forward as the sound of feet thundered in his ears.

  There was a shout. “They’re getting away. Stop them!” Then silence.

  He inched farther out until the sound of gunfire froze him where he knelt. A hand grabbed him roughly by the back of the neck. He let hims
elf be dragged away from his corner, paralyzed by fear. People lay on the ground. People stood around him. They were different from the ones before. The first ones had been beautiful. These people were angry and loud. They plagued him with questions he didn’t understand.

  A body moved between him and his interrogator, creating a kind of barrier. “I don’t think he knows!”

  “How can he not know. He’s bloody well seven years old.”

  “Sarge, we lost them.”

  “Aw, hell! Can we track them?”

  “No, sir. It’s like they were never here. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “Do we have anyone but the boy? Please tell me somebody has someone!”

  “No, sarge.”

  “At least we have him, then.”

  “Sarge, look at his eyes! They’re blank. He’s not even crying. It’s like he’s not all there.”

  A pause, and then another face he didn’t know. “What’s your name, kid?”

  The question confused him. “My name?”

  “Yeah, your name. What do your mum and da call you?”

  The barrier moved, and his gaze dropped to the floor. A puddle of red seeped toward him.

  “Don’t let him see!”

  A face jumped out at him, a woman’s. She had been beautiful once. Not now, though. Now her face was scrunched up and streaked with red.

  “My God, I don’t think he remembers. I don’t think he remembers anything at all.”

  Don sat up screaming, head held tight in his hands. There was noise, but he could not understand it. He did not want to understand it. He ignored the hands pressing against him, urging him to lie down. He didn’t care; he barely felt them. He pulled at his hair as if he could pull the memory from his brain.

  “It hurts,” he whimpered. “It hurts.”

  “Where does it hurt? Your head?”

  Don pushed the questioner away. No, it wasn’t his head. It was the memory. He ached from the pain of it. A hole like a crater was growing in his chest. She had died in front of him, right in front of him, and he had never known.

  “Mum!” he whispered. The questions stopped, and for a moment, time seemed to freeze. “I saw... I saw,” he choked out. “I was there!”