by JN Chaney
Name: General Marcus H. Brigham
Age: 62
Place of Birth: Androsia
Rank: General, Grade-2
Height: 182 cm
Marital Status: Divorced
Latest Assignment: UFS Galactic Dawn
-List of Medals and Awards-
I reached over and touched the list of awards. It expanded, revealing what must have been an additional fifty lines. There were several impressive-looking ones, although I had no idea whether they actually were.
Medal of Valor (on three occasions)
Norsdad Medal of Excellence
Legion of Honor
Galactic Cross
Union Medal of Excellence (on six occasions)
Union Fleet Decoration for Gallantry
Union Fleet Award for Valor
The rest of the list went on for several pages, dating back twenty-five years. This was a dedicated soldier if ever I’d seen one.
I collapsed the awards and brought up the model for his ship, the UFS Galactic Dawn. It took the place of Brigham in the holo display—a carrier with what must have been a thousand strike ships. There was probably enough firepower onboard this monstrosity to glass an entire city, maybe even a planet.
“What do you think?” Abigail asked, staring over my shoulder.
“I think we’ve got a problem,” I said, stepping back from the display. “And it’s worse than I expected.”
TWELVE
“Where have you been?” asked Octavia as Abigail and I joined her in the cargo bay.
Hitchens was there beside her, each of them near the electron microscope. “In all the commotion, we nearly forgot to check in on the blood analysis,” said the doctor.
“Did you find anything?” asked Abigail, passing me in a hurry.
I stayed back and observed, having learned a long time ago that sometimes it’s better to shut up and listen.
Octavia retrieved a vial of blood from the table. “It’s interesting, actually. Lex’s—”
“Where is Lex?” asked Abigail. “I’d rather she not hear this.”
“Frederick is looking after her,” assured Hitchens. “I believe he’s going over her spelling lesson.”
Abigail nodded. “Thank you. What’s wrong with her cells?”
“Actually, that’s the strange part. There’s nothing necessarily wrong with them. They’re just…better. In fact, the more I examine Lex, that’s the conclusion I keep drawing. She’s simply better.”
Abigail tilted her head. “I’m not sure I’m following.”
“The human body is a funny thing. No matter the situation, it will try to heal itself, to survive as long as possible.” She took her fingernail and slid it along her wrist. “When you get cut, there’s damage, so it needs to be healed. You have to be put back together. Normally, we’d apply some medicine and it wouldn’t be a problem, but out in the wild, your body has to do everything on its own. Scarring is how it does that.”
I leaned forward, away from the wall. “Lex didn’t scar, so what does that mean?”
“From what I can gather,” continued Octavia, “which isn’t much since I don’t have access to a lab, Lex’s body isn’t creating a disorganized scaffolding for the cells to grow on. That’s unusual, because if it were one of us, we’d see the opposite. Our cells would attempt to heal the wound, building that scaffolding in the process, and a scar would form. Instead, Lex’s blood is creating a crystalline structure with clean regularity. This is beyond unusual. It simply doesn’t happen.”
“You got all that from testing her blood?” I asked.
“Partially. Her blood cells, unlike the rest of ours, contain no defective or inadequate copies. They grow orderly, making for flawless regeneration.” She looked at the vial of blood in her hand. “They’re perfect.”
“Does any of this make sense to you?” I asked, looking at Abigail.
“A little,” she said, giving me a nod. “Octavia, if I’m understanding you correctly, you’re telling us that Lex’s body can heal faster, is that right?”
It’s not just that,” said the former Union medical officer. “If these early screenings are right, her white blood cells are also far more efficient. For whatever reason, she was born like this.”
“Could those Union scientists have done this?” I asked.
“As far as I know, the technology to genetically modify a human at this level does not exist, but the Union has its share of secrets and hidden labs, so who knows?”
“I took her from one, so clearly they were doing something to her,” said Abigail. “I thought it was because of her tattoos, but what if…” Her voice trailed. “…what if there was more to it?”
Hitchens, who had been silent for most of the conversation, cleared his throat. “I believe we still have much to learn. As talented and brilliant as Octavia is, she isn’t a biologist. None of this is certain, not without more evidence and testing.”
Octavia nodded. “I agree. We’ll need to find a proper facility with—”
“We don’t have time for that,” I interrupted. “We’ve got a Union ship the size of a small moon after us. Whatever this is,” I motioned at the electron microscope and the vials of blood next to it. “We can figure it all out later, once we’re in the clear.”
“But what about Lex?” asked Abigail.
“You heard Octavia. Her health is fine. Better than fine, if I got it right.”
“You did,” confirmed Octavia.
“See? I’ll admit, half of the science was lost on me, but I got the important shit.”
Abigail took a step closer to me, staring at me with her green eyes. “Once we take care of the rest, I want your assurances that we’ll find answers for Lex.”
The tone in her voice was vulnerable, in a way, or about as close to vulnerable as a woman like this could be. It caught me off guard. “We’ll do that,” I said, staring at her.
“I have your word?” she asked, leaning in.
Her scent flowed across my face, like I was noticing it for the first time. Her blonde hair fell below her shoulders in a disorganized mess, but there was something to the madness, the way the light bounced off the strands. It was…
What the fuck am I doing?
I took a step back. “Yeah, all right, lady. You got it.” I turned away from her. “If we’re done talking about magic blood, I’m going to bed. Hitchens, make sure you feed the prisoners. Don’t touch my fruit.”
“Y-You want me to…to feed the three of them by myself?”
“Someone has to. Get Freddie to help you.” I walked into the corridor, not giving him a chance to respond.
THIRTEEN
“…leaving slipspace, sir.”
I cracked my eyes open, groggy and tired. Siggy’s voice, calm as it was, felt like needles in my brain. The holo screen in my room was still on, illuminating the dark. When had I fallen asleep?
“Sir,” said Sigmond. “We’re about to—”
“Okay, I heard you,” I said, turning on my side. All I wanted to do was go back to sleep. “Siggy, how long until—”
I froze when I felt it. The wet, cold liquid in my bed.
Had I pissed myself?
No, that wasn’t it. It didn’t smell like piss. I licked my chapped lips, tasting what remained of the whiskey in my mouth.
I swept my hand across the drenched sheet, to where the puddle was at its deepest, and felt the empty flask with my index finger. I must have fallen asleep drinking it.
I eased off the bed, drops of whiskey falling from my boxers. I need a shower, I thought.
The sheets would need to be changed. I’d have to clean the mattress, too. The last thing I remembered, I was in bed, watching an old holo film about a professional thief. He was trying to rob a bank, but I couldn’t remember the ending.
It didn’t matter. I’d spent longer than I meant to, and I still had to bathe and dress, all in the next few minutes. If Abigail saw me like this, she’d lose her mind.
> Not that I cared. Let her try to lecture me. Doesn’t matter. This is my ship.
I yawned and took a swig of water from the jug beneath my bed, then told Siggy to start up the shower, medium hot.
Eight and a half minutes later, I was clean and toweling my face. I stood in front of the mirror, examining my bloodshot eyes, thirsty as hell. Maybe I should lay off the booze, I thought, remembering how when I was twenty-five, I could drink my way through every bar in town and still be sober enough to take a woman home to bed.
In those days, back when I was just some punk kid on Epsy, I thought I could drink and fuck my way into eternity. No one would stand in my way. I was going to have it all and live forever.
But that was how it was when you were young and stupid. You thought the world was yours, and maybe it could’ve been, had you played a better hand, but kids are always too stupid to see it, to know what the right call is.
They fall in love, make silly choices. They kill the wrong guy or screw the wrong girl. That’s how you end up dead in a gutter, a worthless little shit without a credit to your name, gone before anyone knew who you were.
Without a ship or a crew.
Without…
A knock at the door jarred me. I dabbed the towel on my neck and then wrapped it around my waist. “Who is it?”
“Lex!” said a mousy, muffled voice.
“What is it, kid?” I threw some pants on, grabbing my shirt.
“Open up!”
I groaned as I got my shoes on, then hit the control by the door.
She was standing there with a grin on her face, twisting left and right, with a foot off the floor. “Um, what are you doing?”
“Nothing. What do you want?” I asked.
“Um.”
“Just say it,” I told her.
“Can I have a, um,” she looked at the floor. “Can I have a piece of candy?”
“Candy? Is that why you’re here?” I pulled open my desk drawer and retrieved a few pieces of hard sweets. “Sure thing.”
Her eyes lit up when she saw them. “You mean it?!”
I tossed one of them to her, bubblegum flavor. “Enjoy.”
“Wow, thanks!” she unwrapped it as quickly as her little hands would allow.
I grabbed my holster and pistol, strapped them around my chest and waist, and made sure they were secure.
“Hey, Mr. Hughes,” said Lex, the hard candy clicking against her teeth. “What’s that smell?”
I glanced at the bed, which was soaked in whiskey. “Oh, uh, that’s nothing. Don’t worry about it.”
She wrinkled her nose. “It smells bad. Did something break? What is it?”
“Nothing, kid. Hey, look here.” I placed a second piece of candy on the table. “Here’s another. Save it for later, or don’t. Just take it and get out of here.”
She snatched it up with a grin, burying it in her pocket. “Wow, thanks Mr. Hughes!”
I nudged her to move. “Time to go.”
We both left the room and I made sure it was secured. “Where’s everyone else?” I asked when we were in the lounge.
She bit on the candy. Clack clack clack. “Abby and Freddie are playing in the bay. They said I couldn’t stay.”
“What about Hitchens and Octavia?”
“They’re in their room with the door locked,” she said.
Oh boy, I thought. “Who’s supposed to be watching you, then?”
“Abby said to sit in the lounge but it’s boring here.”
“So you thought you’d bug me, huh?”
“Yup!” She grinned.
I started walking to the cockpit, away from the couches and tables.
“Are you leaving?” she asked.
“I told you, I got work—”
“Me too!” she exclaimed, running after me, coming up to my side.
I glanced down at her, only to see a smile with a piece of red candy between her teeth. “Whatever. Do what you want,” I said, not caring enough to stop her. “Siggy, what’s the status of the ship? Are we almost out?”
“Arriving at the next slip gap point in less than two minutes, sir.”
“As soon as we’re out, activate the cloak,” I ordered.
“Understood, sir.”
“What’s a cloak?” asked Lex, curiously.
I took my seat behind the dash. She did the same, sitting in the copilot chair to my right. “It protects the ship. Keeps us invisible.”
“Is that so the bad guys don’t find us?”
I chuckled. “Sure, kid. The bad guys.” I almost told her the truth, that some folks considered me a bad guy. I thieved, killed, and smuggled my way across the galaxy, breaking every law I could in the process. Did that make me bad? Or did it make me a survivor?
Was there a difference?
“Are the people in the dark room bad?” she asked, after a moment.
It took me a second to realize who she was talking about. “Oh, you mean the soldiers, is that it?”
She nodded.
“They’re bad,” I said, and kept it at that.
Truth was, each of those guys might be all right. Maybe deep down, they had a solid moral compass. Who the hell really knew? But they’d come here with an aim to take this girl from us, to steal her away and deliver her to scientists. She had to see them as evil, for her own sake. Maybe then, she’d stay far away.
The tunnel began to open, a tear forming before us like a nail through cloth.
But instead of darkness on the other side, I was surprised to find a blinding light, forcing me to shield my eyes.
“What is that?” asked the little girl beside me.
“Siggy, analysis,” I said, ignoring the question.
“It seems this tunnel ends near the inner orbit of a yellow star, classification number 392—”
“Decrease brightness on the screen by fifty percent.”
“Acknowledged.”
The screen dimmed immediately, allowing me to put my hand down, away from my eyes. “How close are we to that thing?”
“65 million kilometers, approximately,” answered Sigmond.
I nearly cursed. The closest safe distance a ship like The Renegade Star could get to a star this size was 60 million kilometers. A little more and we might have taken some serious damage to the hull…or worse.
This was one terrible location for a tunnel to drop out.
“Give me the next location,” I ordered. Coordinates appeared on my screen. It wasn’t far. Good.
Another set lit up, surprising me. This one was on the opposite side of the star from our current position.
“Siggy, what is this?” I asked.
“I have sent the coordinates for each tunnel appropriate to our two destinations.”
Two? Oh, right. I’d almost forgotten about the side trip Hitchens wanted to take. “Which one has us following the atlas?”
“The first coordinates,” answered Sigmond.
I almost ordered the ship to continue on its present course, to follow the atlas, but in doing so, we’d be stuck with those three hostages, possibly indefinitely. I couldn’t have that. Hitchens, for all his absurdity, had raised a good point.
“What are we doing?” asked Lex, now on her second piece of candy. Purple, by the look of it.
“I’m trying to decide where to go,” I said.
“Which is the right way?” she asked.
“I don’t know. That’s the whole problem.”
“Did you ask Abby? She always knows what to tell me when I don’t know.”
“No offense, kid, but that’s the last thing I want to do right now.” I could still feel the hangover weighing on me.
“Well, then you gotta decide,” said Lex, cheerily.
“Kid, it isn’t that simple—”
“Captain!” screamed a voice from the other side of cockpit door.
I turned in my seat the second I heard it.
“Captain Hughes!” It sounded like Freddie.
I scramble
d to my feet and ran out into the lounge, leaving Lex in the cockpit. “What the hell are you screaming about?”
Freddie nearly collided with me as I entered the lounge. “Captain! We have a serious problem!”
“Spit it out, then,” I snapped.
“The prisoners, the Union soldiers, they’re out of their cell and they have Doctor Hitchens!”
“Stop!” called Octavia from down the hall.
“Fuck,” I muttered, reaching for my pistol, unholstering it. I looked at Freddie. “Follow!”
We raced through the corridor toward the cargo bay. I came to a stop near the door, creeping up to the wall. I grabbed Freddie by his shirt and kept him back. “Wait!” I said in a loud whisper.
He nodded, but I could see the panic in his eyes. Beads of sweat streamed down his cheeks and forehead. The panic was beginning to set in.
