by James Aspen
“I’m fine, Commander. Just a scratch,” he said with a pained expression. “Doesn’t feel too good though.”
Edolit looked at the hole burned into Omaro’s shoulder. The flesh beneath his shell was badly burned and oozing clear viscous fluid, but as far as she could tell his Ambra was already patching up the wound. The sight of the wound made her dizzy again, and her vision grew spotty.
“Good, can’t lose another one of my team, today,” Edolit said through a wheeze. She was having trouble catching her breath, with every movement of her chest sending shooting pain from her bruised ribs. Damn, my stims aren’t enough to keep me going at this rate.
“I won’t let you down, Commander,” he said and then nodded towards the hall leading to the engineering deck. “Are we still moving towards engineering to cause some damage?”
Ja’el grabbed Edolit by the shoulder and kept her from swaying. “You okay Commander?”
Edolit nodded a thanks to the Grr’alis. “They’ll think we’re heading there now that we’ve taken out a few of their patrols. Now, we head to the medical bay. I’m running on fumes and we could use a moment to patch ourselves up.”
Nian, give me the route least likely to have patrols based on the assignments we downloaded.
Done. Nian’s smooth voice calmed her as a small map appeared in the corner of her field of vision. Edolit glanced at the map and then nodded back towards where the Varanul lay. “This way, we’re not far.”
They quickly searched the bodies of the Varanul as they passed. Edolit and Omaro now carried two small blasters each and a couple of spare power packs. As they moved on, Edolit noticed Ja’el frowning down at the third blaster they left lying in the corridor as they passed, and glanced down at where her arm should have been with a grimace.
Edolit came up to her side. “Hey, I’ll make sure you get the best replacement in the fleet when we get home.”
Ja’el forced a smile and met Edolit’s eyes. “I’ll never fly again, though.”
“You don’t know that.”
“But I do. That was my dominant arm.” Ja’el’s shoulders sunk. “They’ll ground me.”
“Hey. They’ll try, but I won’t let them. I need you on my team.” Edolit was serious. Ja’el and Edolit had been through a lot together in the years of fighting a proxy war against the Varanul. She trusted the Grr’alis deeply and valued her, not only for her flying ability, but her unwavering courage. What Edolit saw now in her friend’s eyes troubled her. She had come close to breaking, Edolit saw it in the haunted look in Ja’el’s eyes. Edolit knew her friend would never be the same.
***
Nian guided them through the ship in a meandering path past darkened crew quarters, dodging patrols. They remained undetected, save for one unwitting crewman who had the misfortune of choosing the wrong moment to leave his quarters for the privy. A quick strike of Omaro’s chitinous arm knocked the Gryx out cold. Edolit dragged him into his quarters and locked him in while he wet himself.
The med bay was empty, bright light filling the small room and left it devoid of shadow. Three exam tables sat empty, the diagnostic scanners in standby mode alongside them, primed for an influx of patients. The ship’s surgeons were likely en route to the site of a skirmish to help the wounded Edolit’s team had left behind intentionally. Anything to strain resources and increase confusion would help them.
“Patch yourselves up, we have little time,” Edolit said, moving to take guard.
“You first, Commander. I’m good. I’ll take first watch.” Omaro shoved past her before she could protest. The hulking soldier took position near the doorway and kept both barrels of his blasters leveled towards the ends of the corridor.
Ja’el set her blaster down on a counter and started opening storage panels along one bulkhead. Edolit joined her, searching the panels on across the room. She pulled each panel down to reveal the supply cabinets and instruments inside, each panel folding down into a small shelf. She found the nutrishakes and chugged one down greedily. Edolit had escaped more wounds than the rest of her team, but the combat enhancements had wiped out her caloric reserves. She barely tasted the thick, chalky liquid, but felt the difference almost immediately when it hit her stomach.
Disengage stim protocol.
Are you sure? You are still only operating at 8.6% stamina.
Disengage stim protocol.
Confirmed.
Almost immediately, Edolit’s mind cleared but at the cost of making her body feel like she was on a high gravity planet wearing full tactical armor. She was wiped out, but needed a moment to let her mind clear up from the effects of the stims before they moved on.
She finished the nutrishake with a chug and opened a second one, sipping it more slowly.
“Hey Omaro, heads up,” she said, smoothly tossing a nutrishake to the guard before he could look. He holstered a blaster and caught the shake without taking his eyes off the corridor and bit the cap off with his mandibles.
“Thanks, Commander.” The Scyllarian sounded disappointed. His species had a harder time than most consuming liquid foods, but he got most of it into his mouth slit.
She grabbed another shake and walked to Ja’el. The small Grr’alis was injecting herself with a pain suppressor, unceremoniously jamming the applicator into the meat of her leg and pressing the release valve. Edolit raised an eyebrow and pulsed the color of concern when she saw the other two applicators already lying empty at Ja’el’s feet, but she left it alone. Her Ambra would block it from overwhelming her system.
“Here, you need some fuel too,” Edolit said, holding the shake out to Ja’el.
“I’m fine,” Ja’el said, her voice dreamy.
Great. Edolit sighed and held the shake in front of Ja’el’s hand. “That an order, solder.”
Ja’el let the applicator drop to the ground and snatched the shake away. “Fine. I’ll take over watch.”
“Ja’el…”
“I’m fine, Commander.”
Edolit glanced at the spent pain suppressors and pulsed irritation. No, you’re not.
Omaro appeared beside her and shook her from her worry.
“Find any gelpak’s yet?”
Edolit’s eyes flashed to the wound on Omaro’s shoulder and nodded. “Yeah, I saw some over here. Let’s get you patched up.”
Together, they walked back to where Edolit had been searching and pulled out a stack of gelpaks.
The gelpaks were unnecessary due to the healing power of their Ambras, but they were always a plus on any combat mission. The more energy the Ambras expended healing them and producing hormones to keep them fighting, the faster their reserves would run out. The Ambras only augmented their existing systems, and only could do so for short periods of time. Eventually, their bodies would run out of material to metabolize and would shut down.
Edolit placed a pack on Omaro’s shoulder wound and glanced back at Ja’el. The alien was keeping guard, but her head drooped. She motioned Omaro to look at her, and his face hardened.
“Keep an eye on her for me, okay?” Edolit whispered.
“Already on it, Commander. She had a rough time of it.”
“Thanks,” Edolit said as she finished stretching the gelatinous material over the soft flesh of his shoulder wound.
She eventually convinced Ja’el to place a gelpak over the raw skin where her body was still repairing the damage from her missing arm, as well as a few spots with burns and slices, remnants of the torture she had endured. Edolit wrapped another pack around the aching thumb she had hastily reattached, and another over her still bruised ribs.
The couple of minutes it took them to down as many nutrishakes as they could stand and patch up their wounds was worth the detour, Edolit decided when she queried her team status readout on her Ambra. All of them had recovered some stamina and health from the break. Not much, especially in Ja’el’s case, but she hoped it would be enough. Paul’s status was still a mystery, but she assumed he was still under the cloak.
Zyp would make sure he got to the pickup.
“Okay, break’s over. Time to move.” Edolit’s entire body ached, and she felt like she could barely move, but she resisted reengaging the stims to conserve her resources as long as possible.
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
PAUL JERKED AWAKE, his arms thrashing wildly. Adrenaline surged through him as he nearly fell from the pilot’s seat. The nightmare had propelled him from sleep and sent him back into the world swinging.
Calm down Paul. You are safe. Breathe.
It was just a dream, Paul told himself. Then reality set in. The amorphous being holding him down might have been a dream, but the memory of watching El Paso disappear was very real.
And the last of his family was gone in an instant. Family he hadn’t spoken to in years, but family regardless.
Would you like a sedative?
“No! And don’t put me to sleep again,” Paul growled. No, he deserved every bit of the pain he was feeling. He’d embrace it. It had been his decision, now he had to carry it. “Where are we?”
A map flashed in front of Paul’s vision, and he flinched. He was still waking up, and it took him a minute to make sense of it. The transport was en route to Mars, and the map showed Zyp had set the course to use the Martian gravity well to slingshot towards a large icon moving away from Jupiter. The command ship. Three sets of red icons showed the last known position of the enemy fighters clustered between Jupiter and Earth. Paul glanced at the console and saw that they were moving under zero thrust, cloaked.
“They’re scanning for us, aren’t they?”
Yep. Like a swarm of angry yellow jackets. Those stinging things sound terrible. They don’t even make any delicious regurgitated ooze for you.
“How did you avoid the starfighters?” Paul ignored Zyp’s attempt at humor.
Zyp let out an exaggerated, electronic sigh before answering.
I only used micro-thrusters until we were sufficiently blocked by Earth’s moon from their scanners, then I burned hard for Mars.
“And there, we’ll do the same trick to loop back towards their base ship and pick up speed.”
That’s the plan.
Paul nodded. With the starfighters scanning the space around Earth for his thrusters, the chances of their scanners catching the Specter were minimal. Zyp had come up with a good plan. Paul still felt a flash of anger course through him when he remembered the sensation of being unable to control his own body. He knew that he’d frozen, that shock had taken him over and Zyp had saved him, but he hadn’t let go of the violation it entailed.
“Good job. Now don’t take over my motor function without my permission again,” Paul grumbled. He knew he was being petulant, but he didn’t care. He had to lash out at something.
I can’t promise that.
“Why not? It’s my body!”
It’s against my core programming. I can only allow you to self-destruct to avoid capture, and then only as a last resort.
Paul deflated. He hadn’t really wanted to kill himself. Not really. The loss was just too much for him to take in. Sleep had done him some good, but the anguish ached deep in his core. He’d let down so many, but one he had let down long ago. He looked away from the viewscreen, his stomach churning. He wondered if he would make it to the privy before he vomited this time.
7,534,234,901.
“What’s that?”
That’s how many people you saved.
“And how many did I fail?,” Paul said after a moment of hesitation, the course navigation numbers scrolling across the console screen haunting him.
681,728.
Paul nodded. He knew he’d never forget that number, but it wasn’t as large as he’d imagined during his breakdown. The number would grow as the fallout affected the surrounding area, but he wouldn’t be around to find that out. He would exact revenge for those people lost. He’d be fighting whoever was controlling the Varanul as long as he could. His grief was, at least for the moment, becoming replaced by deep, simmering anger.
“Hey Zyp,” he said.
Yes?
“Thank you.”
Just doing my job.
Paul managed a laugh at that.
“Well, how long until we make our burn?”
28 minutes.
Paul got up and stretched. His neck ached from sleeping in the pilot’s chair and he rolled his head to loosen the muscles. He felt a flood of relief after his neck let out a loud pop.
“I’m going to get some food and then you can help me go over how to get Edolit.”
Enter 21-870 on the meal processor. It’ll be much better than the Hardokan meat bar you ate last time.
“Thanks, that was pretty terrible.”
***
The food wasn’t just better, it was perfect. He didn’t know what the small greasy coils of food were, but they had a satisfying crunch to them and were filled with a gooey cheese-like sauce and protein. They reminded him of the poppers served at the bar near campus he used to order all the time.
Zyp had chosen something that resembled comfort food for him without asking. Warmth stirred in his chest at the consideration the strange being in his head displayed. It was nice to know it wasn’t just programmed for snarky asides and dad-jokes.
The thought hit him in the gut. His dad had never been much of a joker. Hell, he’d barely been a talker, but the thought of his father still hurt. Paul swallowed it down. He couldn’t fall apart now. Couldn’t go back into the dark place, not while there were still people who needed him.
Hunger sated, Paul sipped a cup of a sweet, moss-colored tea that Zyp had assured him was caffeinated and stretched his legs. He imagined the transport would be cramped with a full crew, but it was a lonely place for a crew of one. He considered trying some of the exercise equipment in the cargo hold, but couldn’t quite make himself go through with it. Despite feeling better, part of him was dazed by the events of the past few days, like they weren’t real yet. Shock, he supposed. Another part of him was too nihilistic to consider anything resembling self-improvement. That part of him wanted to curl up in K’tal’s bunk - he still wasn’t ready to call it his bunk - and sleep for a week.
It’s almost time for the slingshot.
Paul slurped down the last of his tea and tossed his cup in the refresher. The tea had tasted like sweetened boot leather, but it had done its job. He felt more awake by the time he settled back into the pilot’s seat. The food had done him some good. The chair didn’t feel so alien now. It definitely wasn’t designed with a human in mind, but it felt more comfortable than it had the first time he had sat in it. Paul smiled as he studied the console with its array of blinking lights and switches. Despite his grief, he was still amazed that the knowledge download from his Ambra, that he knew the Specter better than he’d known his laptop.
With a glance, he saw everything was in order. They were on course with a fully charged shields, weapons, and cloak system. Satisfied, he finally looked out the viewport at the rust-colored orb of Mars, half hidden by shadow as the ship approached it. A flash of movement across its surface made Paul jump. He nearly sent the ship into an evasive maneuver until he realized it was Phobos making its rapid orbit around the planet. Paul looked for Deimos, the larger moon of Mars, but it was hidden behind the rapidly approaching planet.
Disengage cloak and perform passive scan.
Paul wanted to take in the view longer, but he didn’t have time. With a sigh, he switched off the cloaking field and ran a quick passive sensor sweep. Within moments the combat map superimposed on the viewport changed with updated positions for the enemy fighters and warship.
Re-engage cloak. Analyzing data.
Paul could see the starfighters had given up finding the Specter in the area immediately surrounding Earth and had fanned out. One group would have caught their trail had they been breaking for the Gate again. The other two groups were still searching between the base ship and Earth. One flight group appeared to be meandering closer to a
vector that might place Mars in their sensor field. The command ship had moved closer to Earth, but was still picking up speed.
Data analysis complete. Course corrections unnecessary for now.
“That’s good news,” Paul muttered.
Displaying flight path in your HUD. As soon as we pass the first marker, engage thrusters to full and keep us on course to the following markers.
A series of square outlines appeared along the edge of the dark side of the planet in his HUD.
“Won’t they pick up our thrusters and come running?”
Only if you hit them too early or fail to shut down on my mark. The planet will block their sensors.
“Got it. Can you give me a five second warning for thruster burn?”
No problem.
“Good, let’s go save some more people,” Paul said. He felt a twang of pain. It felt good to be doing something instead of replaying the horror in his head, but it was still a reminder of what could go wrong.
The transport picked up speed as the Martian gravity pulled the ship. A dark thought flashed in Paul’s mind as he wondered what it would be like to let the planet’s gravity take the ship and send it crashing into the surface. He shook the thought away, and his cheeks warmed with guilt.
Great, I’m going to hear all about suicidal ideation now from Zyp, he thought.
It surprised Paul when the Ambra let the thought go by without comment. He’d more than half expected a snarky potshot, at least.
The first marker was larger than he had assumed when they first appeared, and now it looked like a bright glowing box that filled most of his viewport.
5 seconds to thrust.
Paul disengaged autopilot and brought back manual control.
