Requiem

by E L Strife

  It unnerved him to hear such silence. It was as if the UNKs and NCAMs already felt this, the emptiness.

  He did.

  “There’s always a chance there are more of your kind out there.” Cutter gestured in the direction of the sky. “For now, look around you at the faces. These people will understand you because they are one-of-a-kinds, like you. UNKs and NCAMs have ultimate priority in our psychology offices if you ever want or need to talk to someone.”

  Bennett had already memorized the faces in the room. None of these people are like me. There is one prospector for the whole universe. Something warm slid over his right hand as it rested on his thigh.

  Atana’s fingers wrapped around his with a squeeze.

  His heart kick-started. The hand in hers suddenly felt hot. The sense of alienation departed.

  Cutter stepped forward, beside the podium. He pulled the ball cap from his head, running a hand through his hair. “Everyone in this room has a double consonant in their last name, yes?”

  The attendees murmured in agreement.

  He took in a deep breath. “Command gave us new names upon arrival here, when we were children. For those with clear ancestral lines, they are named by the appropriate member of Command which represents eleven species in total. Unknowns and NCAMs are so many pieces to different puzzles, they needed a way to know who we were, without specifically classifying us. They gave us all last names with a double consonant. Rigger—” He nodded at a man in the front row then pointed to several others out in the crowd. “McCoughlen, Maxwell, Doncliff, Lammond, Killian.”

  Hanging an arm over the podium, he steadied himself.

  Bennett had never seen the man so unbalanced. “He looks wasted.”

  “Cutter, drunk?” Atana whispered in shock. “There’s no alcohol on Home Station.”

  Shaking his head, Bennett criticized the man’s languid movements and sentences. “No, like too much serum and not enough sleep. I’d know. Hell, he’s still injured. I can’t believe he’s on his feet.”

  “Come on.” She released his hand and sprung up, her seat thumping closed. On their way down the aisle to the stage, Bennett watched her type Lavrion a message.

  “For Unknowns, there is something in you Command has yet to see—an ancestral background that is not from Earth.” Cutter leaned against the podium. “They aren’t sure what it is and/or when it will show.”

  Dia typed away on a tablet and didn’t seem to notice his condition until Atana and Bennett slipped under his arms.

  Cutter scanned between them, worry tightening his brows. “I can finish!”

  “Hurry. Your bandage is leaking through.” Bennett gestured to the shiny spot on Cutter’s thigh.

  He looked then waggled his head in frustration. “Okay.” He made a half-hearted attempt to swallow behind peeling lips. “Some of us have been hidden by our biological families, concealed as humans, and it’s hard to know what will break it. For others, it is sudden, evoked by trauma. Most continue to stay concealed. With such an unpredictable nature, we want you to come to us with any and all concerns.”

  A man near the middle of the room raised a hand.

  “Yes?”

  “What do we do if we know someone else who is going through this transition and needs help? Who do we talk to about them?”

  Cutter sighed. “Hard to say there is a format for care without knowing what we’re dealing with exactly. What I’m told is if a person poses a danger to the station, you need to contact us or Command immediately. We will coordinate the best environment and assistance we can offer the shepherd. Don’t wait because you’re concerned about getting in trouble. You can’t be penalized for something out of your control. At the moment, Dia and I are the species specialists, until Command can get the other counselors up to speed, so come find one of us.”

  Bennett looked out across the sea of faces, now a mix of depressed inattentiveness and confusion. Cutter sank heavier into their arms with every passing second. “Time to close, Steven.”

  Cutter bobbed his head. “You have been strong and fought hard, with diligence and tact, until this point, unaffected by the designations or lack of such of yourselves, your co-shepherds, and your teammates. Discussions of differences in ancestry is to be kept to a minimum. Rule 6: Do not disclose identifying information, allowing others to know you as different from the masses.” He softened his voice. “However, when you are in the psychology offices, you are allowed complete freedom of speech, without reprimand. If you do not seek us out and you transition and harm others, you will be re-evaluated for dismissal from the force because you failed to address a vulnerability in the chain of Command. You are to stay on serum. We will remain successful if we stay united because we fight for the same things.” Cutter let out a breath, his knees shaking beneath him. “Th-that concludes our session.”

  His body gave out, forcing Bennett and Atana to tighten their grip.

  Dia’s eyes bulged at Cutter. She turned and shouted to the room, “I will take questions on the way back to my office.”

  Bennett patted his face. “Stay with us, buddy. We need you coherent.”

  Removing Cutter’s headset, Dia tugged her own off. “I didn’t know he was injured.”

  “Serum’s covering it up; he can’t feel how bad it is,” Bennett said as he and Atana rested Cutter’s quivering body back on the floor.

  Dia leaned over to look into Cutter’s eyes. “I’ll take care of the shepherds. You take care of yourself.”

  At his nod, she spun and hurried off.

  Lavrion appeared in the doorway, hustling up to the stage.

  “Before you all go,” Atana shouted over the popping rumble of folding up theater seats, “are there any other injured shepherds who’ve been unable to be seen by medical staff?”

  Several hands went in the air, and one belonging to a co-shepherd, his partner bracing an arm.

  “All injured, please come up here,” Atana said as the rest of the shepherds exited the auditorium.

  Cutter let out a puff of air. “I’m so dizzy.”

  “Why’d you dose early, Steven?” Bennett asked.

  His arms flopped to his sides. “Job demands. Pain. Does it matter?”

  “You can’t work if you’re dead.” Atana rolled up Cutter’s pant leg while Lavrion passed a hand back and forth over the wound. “Serum hides our body’s responses to injury. Good in short-term, bad over days.”

  “I didn’t have a choice,” Cutter weakly defended.

  “You always do. Come talk to me,” Bennett said. “I can get you out of tasks if they’re too much. That’s part of my job.”

  Lavrion hummed discordantly. “There’s an object still in there.”

  Bennett slid over the medical kit from Lavrion’s side and opened it up, pulling out a pair of tweezers and digging through the case. “There’s no anesthetic?”

  “We’re out until the next shipment arrives in the morning.” Lavrion drew out a bandage and tape.

  “I don’t care. Pull it, whatever it is,” Cutter slurred, throwing his head back. “You’re right; I can’t work like this.”

  Atana held his leg in place as Bennett inserted the tweezers for the bullet. He grabbed it, but it refused to budge, the metal tines slipping over its surface like a rock. “I don’t know what this metal is, but it’s plastered to his bone. I can’t believe it didn’t shatter his femur.”

  Blood trickled out of the shredded tissue when Bennett retracted his tools.

  “Plastered to the bone,” Atana reiterated.

  Bennett nodded.

  “Cutter.” Atana shifted up to his face. “I will get it out, but I need you to breathe and not flinch, no matter how bad it hurts, okay?”

  His head jerked in a nod, the veins rising in his neck. “Kay.”

  “Lavrion, get ready.” She grabbed a pick out of the medical kit and took the tweezers from Bennett. “Remember what I said about Suanoan metals being different?”

  “Vaguely.” Bennett
steadied Cutter’s leg.

  She pried on it with eyes closed. Cutter howled, his ribs heaving. Bennett took one of the man’s hands in his. Cutter’s face contorted in agony, confusion, fear. Yet his eyes held steady with determination, a visual hardness like tempered steel. His muscles tensed, solid beneath Bennett’s grasp.

  Dropping the misshapen metal to the wood floor with a clunk, Atana sat back so Lavrion could bandage him up.

  “Oh God,” Cutter rasped, his body falling flaccid. “I don’t know what you did, but thank you.”

  Lavrion pulled the stained fabric back down to his boot. “Water, food with iron and sugar, and rest, no excuses.”

  “Yes, sir.” Cutter paused, looking from Lavrion to Atana. “Is he—”

  Atana’s eyes widened then gave a fervent shake of her head. Cutter’s mouth closed.

  “I’m going to help Lavrion with the others,” she said. “Bennett, can you make sure Cutter gets what he needs?”

  “On it, boss.” Bennett pulled one of Cutter’s arms over his neck and braced the man’s broad back. Field Guards often had to carry one another. He got them to their feet after a sputtering of curses from Cutter. Aiming for the exit, a marble on the floor made them stop.

  “Atana?” Bennett blinked, confirming what he was seeing. “It changed shape.”

  “Their metal does different things depending on how they program it,” she replied, digging through the medical kit.

  “What does that even mean?” Bennett rotated, helping Cutter stumble with him. “This is from the new blade-ball weapon. At the crash site.”

  She looked back. “Oh, shit, you’re right.” Atana jumped up and walked over to inspect the object. “They’re behaving like Suanoan nodes, and I categorized them as such without a second thought.” She waggled her fingers by her temple. “This is from that scrawny human.”

  “Who’s probably not human,” Cutter rasped, stabilizing himself with Bennett’s help.

  She pointed a finger at him. “I’ll call Command. They’ll want to see it, I’m sure. It should’ve surrounded his bone and squeezed it until it snapped. It is a threat they should be informed of.”

  Cutter’s face blanched. “It’s all out, right?”

  Atana rested a reassuring hand to his arm. “It’s free. I’ve pulled more than one of those.”

  “Oh, good,” Cutter muttered, his head bobbling again. “To dinner then. I’m starving. Haven’t been able to eat because of the pain.”

  Bennett adjusted his grip around Cutter’s midsection, helping him hobble toward the doors. How many are we talking, Nakio?

  A blur of images flashed in his mind: bloodied fingers reaching through rusted bars of a cage, pulling nodes out of spines and limbs with crude shanks. The bodies jolted and curled away from her hands, pieces of bone breaking away, oozing with pus. A pan trickled milky water over the wounds to the words of her young, weak voice—“Ras il avituvey.” It is free.

  Bennett glanced over his shoulder at her. She was back at work, helping the injured. Just before they slipped through the doorway, she turned to the side, an eye on the floor he’d crossed.

  Too many to count, Jameson. Far too many.

  Chapter 31

  SERGEANT CUTTER BOUNDED down the steps behind Atana and Bennett as they headed for the private conference.

  Atana twisted to look back at him and was relieved to see color in his face. “How are you feeling?”

  “Ninety percent,” Cutter said. “Did he put something special under my bandage? I peeled it off when I got up from my nap, and it’s all pinked over and almost done healing. I feel like I slept for two days straight in a matter of hours.”

  “He’s Mirramor.” She threw him a warning glance. “We’re making use of him, quietly.”

  “Ah.” Cutter glanced between them. “Any idea what Command needs to talk to us about?”

  “The Unveiling tomorrow.” Atana studied Cutter’s tired eyes as the three of them walked out into the hallway. There was something bothering him, more than the recent crash-course healing session. She wanted to dive in, to listen to his thoughts because she wanted to help and he clearly needed it. Atana had made a promise to him not to, and none of them could afford to lose trust.

  Rubber thudded against the steel floor behind them as Tanner, Josie, and Panton caught up with the group.

  “We had to run an emergency backup mission offshore.” Josie huffed, slinging her e-rifle higher on her shoulder as they neared the conference room.

  Bennett pulled the door open, holding it for everyone. “Successful?”

  “Always, sir.” Josie gave him a terse nod.

  When Atana entered, she found Azure and Lavrion standing inside, sharing the silence with two other men dressed in navy button-ups and black cargo pants. The one with the darkest eyes, a man taller than Azure, was the one who had stopped her and Bennett after receiving their classification cards.

  “We are from Command. I am Terson.” He waved a hand to the blue-eyed man beside him. “This is Med-Evac pilot, Ronux. I will be part of the available sniper units.” He scanned the team with unnerving focus, landing on Josie. “I am Euli. We share a common ancestry with Kojaqx.” He paused at her inspection of him. “Height is one of our only differences. Dequan is as you are and will also assist tomorrow. He cannot be here because he is corralling some hotheads in another room.”

  “Edmican, Vequestri, and Taoleernen?” Josie asked, a smirk threatening to break her composure.

  “They have a reputation, don’t they?” Terson nodded. “Azure, Sergeant Bennett, and Sergeant Atana, you three will stand with the Coordinator for the speech. He will remain behind a shield due to the size of this event. Security has already swept the area and stationed guards around the perimeter.” Terson handed Azure and Lavrion a metal badge in the shape of a shield. “We want everyone in Dress Black with your tactical add-ons.”

  The sight made Atana smile inside. Shields were given to shepherds when they transitioned from an Assistant to a Sergeant and officially acquired the responsibilities and respect of a dependable member of UP. It took her six months, half the time of a typical shepherd. Azure and Lavrion had earned theirs in a matter of days.

  Both men stared at the bronze shapes, muttering their thanks.

  “The team can show you where to place them on your uniforms.” Ronux extended a stack of clothing to each with a pile of patches on top. “Lavrion, we’ll do your induction formalities later. You are an R2, Paramedic, listed as Independent until we can find you an appropriate guard.”

  Atana watched Lavrion’s eyes dart to hers, a shadow tucking their colors in some faraway place. His tenor voice was stone steady. “A guard isn’t necessary. Lived in war zones my entire life.”

  She studied him standing there beside her, the tender attentiveness he showed privately around her shutting off like a switch. If only she could flip hers back on for him, maybe they could connect. For his sake, she had to try.

  With a nod, Ronux pulled up a schematic of a building on the wall screen behind him. “Tomorrow we are telling the world about the H.Co. system and its true purpose: to track all the species on Earth and unify us under a common cloak. Command is compiling the speech. We need a security team behind the Coordinator and teams to scout from the rooftops. There are thirty additional ground units of Security Shepherds available to spread throughout the surrounding buildings and the plaza to those already in place. Sergeant Bennett and Sergeant Atana, we need you and your team, including Azure, to coordinate this event. Command would like Lavrion on the sidelines to help if his assistance is required. Dr. Tieshna has said many positive things about his skills already.”

  “Yes, Command,” the group replied in unison.

  Ronux waved a hand at the screen. “This is the Mercy Building in Pacific Zone Fourteen. Typical attendance is near 125,000. Given the circumstances, we’re anticipating that number to double. We expect the Kronos Clan to show up and perform their usual tricks, so be prepared.�
�

  Lavrion swayed between his feet. “I would like to suggest a few extra supplies if you have them.”

  “Sure.” Terson rested his hands on the table. “But first, can you tell us what you know? You’ve lived among the people. You must have seen or heard something.”

  A muscle danced in her brother’s tightly clamped jaw. What he had seen, he didn’t want to talk about.

  Lavrion’s shoulders tensed and relaxed. He took a breath. “They’re people who want to gain control of UP to access the serum-controlled shepherds and feed them lies about the world. They desire to corrupt the innocence of your system and manipulate your drone military into serving them and their desire for world domination. Krage, the leader, is power hungry and wants off this ‘toxic rock,’ thinking he can use your Hope transports to make it happen.”

  “We aren’t mindless rats,” Josie defended. Panton set a hand on her shoulder.

  Atana glanced at her. “To unregulated humans, we are. But it doesn’t matter. Our Hope transports aren’t capable of leaving this galaxy. His plan is pointless.”

  “The biggest weakness is in the serum if they can manipulate it.” Lavrion gestured at the empty slots on his wristband. “Krage doesn’t have much patience. He’s been regularly advertising for a new biochemist.”

  He keeps killing them, Atana realized.

  Her brother fixated on the floor. Yes.

  “We’ve already caught on to that,” Ronux said. “Where did you learn all this?”

  Lavrion looked him in the eyes. “Common knowledge in the underground.”

  “What is it you recommend for this event?” Terson asked.

  “Lots of extra bandages, some tiktia weed if they poison the tips of their bullets.”

  “Is that when the entry site turns bluish?” Tanner asked behind Atana. She twisted to see him nervously fingering the laptop over his chest. He licked his lips, a single finger double-tapping the case. A subtle tilt of his head told her he’d been hit with something poisoned in the past and it wasn’t a good memory.

  “Yes, because the oxygen is being sucked out of the tissue.” Lavrion massaged a palm with his thumb. “Poison is one of the things I can’t heal without help because it damages my repair as I heal them. Ground tiktia must be inserted into the depth of the wound. That is the hardest part; many cannot tolerate the pain of re-entry. Without it, if they’re lucky, they’ll survive with massive scarring.”