by Aaron Hubble
Saxena nodded to them both and then returned to his post assisting the woman at the console.
Noni turned to leave the bridge, but Bobby stayed rooted to his spot. For the first time he’d noticed the view out the forward window. It was magnificent. The stars stretched out as far as he could see, there was no end to it. He stepped down onto the bridge and moved past the captain who looked up and watched him pass. He just needed to get a closer look. Stepping within several feet of the window, he turned his head in either direction, taking in the stars. Noni returned to his side.
“I envy you,” she said.
“Why?”
“Because where you’re going it’s all new. What you’re doing is the plot of so many old novels. You’re living the grand adventure people only forty years ago believed was fiction. That must stir your emotions, Robert.” She breathed out, keeping her voice low and reverent in view of the universe spread out before them.
“Noni, I can’t even begin to explain the emotions I’m experiencing right now. I have nothing to compare it with or draw an analogy from. It just is and I just am.”
“Well said.”
They were silent for several minutes, just letting the limitless cosmos play on the cords of their minds and soothe the frenzied pace they’d been moving at for so many years. Bobby could feel it in Noni because he understood. There were precious few of these moments in the life of a leader. Often you never saw these moments because you were too busy looking at the next report.
Finally, Bobby tore his eyes from the view and looked at Noni. “What’s next?”
Noni reluctantly turned her eyes from the stars. “I’m going to escort you to the medical bay where you will be prepped for stasis and then the whole group will be put under at the same time.”
Bobby took a deep breath, “I’m ready. Lead the way.”
****
Bobby stepped into the silver cylinder and buckled the harness over his shoulders and around his waist. He tucked a picture of Luke and Samantha into the lip of the window and smiled at the memory it captured. They’d gone to a park a couple of days after he’d returned from Antarctica. He and Samantha had worked things out. It hadn’t been easy, but she understood why he did what he did.
For his part, Bobby acknowledged her feelings and promised he’d come back and when he did, he’d never go back into combat again. This would be his last mission. He was at peace with the decision.
He touched the picture. The three of them had an amazing day laughing and playing in the sun. It was a day he’d cherish for a long time to come. Bobby didn’t know if he’d dream while he was in stasis, but if he did, he wanted to relive that day over and over on his trip across the stars.
The tech opened the shunt on the IV he’d placed in Bobby’s arm. The cold solution began to course through his body, the cocktail of drugs working its magic almost instantly, and his eyelids became very heavy. He barely noticed the nurse closing the door of the stasis unit. The last thing he saw before the drug-induced coma took him away was the picture of Samantha and Luke. That had been a good day.
A really good day.
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Aereas - Human base in Homa former Am’Segid great city
Sweeping into the extraction laboratory, Cullen’s harried eyes searched the room looking for the woman’s stasis unit. He prayed he would find it and not an empty space where it had stood.
Relief coursed through his body and he let out the breath fear had trapped in his lungs.
She was still there.
Dr. Mitchell turned and gave Cullen a quizzical look. “McPhall? I don’t remember calling for a tech.”
“Ah…are you sure? I thought I received a message about one of these units needing an adjustment,” Cullen said, trying to come up with a plausible explanation for why he had shown up unannounced.
“No.” The doctor scratched his head. “There haven’t been any problems. Well, that’s not entirely true. Beta three four seven, the one who’s been an issue since being put in stasis, still is not producing. The decision has been made to terminate the subject in twenty-four hours.” He looked down at the data slate in his hand and scrolled through several screens.
Cullen hadn’t moved. The termination notice had been hard to miss this morning while he was doing his normal post-breakfast stalking of the woman known as Beta three four seven. He’d hacked into the doctor’s charts and daily logs just to see how she was doing. Of course he’d seen her levels were still very low, but he didn’t really think they would actually terminate a living, breathing woman.
His father’s words still haunted him, and he knew eliminating a less than satisfactory subject was exactly what the CPF would do. It fit their overarching philosophy: use something or someone until they’re no longer useful. Once that something or someone became an obstacle or a hindrance, eradicate it. Cullen felt sick to his stomach. It was a feeling he was getting used to every time he thought about the organization he belonged to.
Revulsion and guilt were the two worlds he was living in right now. What his father had said was true. His hands were stained red with the blood of these people and soon it would be the blood of his own race that would color his hands. He wanted to retch. Instead, Cullen summoned up the necessary fortitude and forced the bile down.
“What if you let her go?” Cullen said, breaking the silence of the room.
Dr. Mitchell looked up, surprised to find Cullen still standing there. “Pardon me?”
“Let her go. Wake her up and put her to work in a field or somewhere else. She could still be productive.”
Shaking his head, Dr. Mitchell walked over to his desk and sat down. “No. You forget that she’s pregnant. She wouldn’t be useful for long. At some point the pregnancy would prevent her from working and then after the baby was born, assuming there are no complications with an alien-human hybrid, she would need to care for the child, thus limiting her usefulness. No, a world full of hybrids is not what the CPF had in mind. They would only use up resources.”
Cullen wasn’t so sure he could keep himself from getting sick. “So, none of the babies were meant to survive?”
“Of course not,” Mitchell said, as if he was hearing the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard. “The pregnancies were always meant to be terminated in the last month of gestation. The real question is whether the host can be impregnated again and tolerate an extended stasis. We won’t know until we try.” The doctor scrolled through several holo-screens, doing calculations and monitoring his subjects, and then stopped. “If they can’t, we have plenty more females locked up that we can bring into the program as others are taken out.”
In some ways, Cullen wished he’d never been told the truth. He wished he and Jane could have stayed happily ensconced in their work, bubble-wrapped against the uncomfortable battering of the truth. That wasn’t the situation he found himself in. He knew the truth and it was destroying him.
Without saying a word, he turned and exited the laboratory. Once in the hallway he leaned against the wall, closed his eyes and slowly slid down the wall until he was squatting. The cool stone against his back helped him focus his thoughts once again. They still swirled, but he’d managed to regain a measure of control. His stomach was no longer threatening to disgorge its contents onto his shoes.
He now had knowledge of a horrifying truth, and the question had to be asked: What would he do?
Pretending he didn’t know wasn’t an option. There were really only two options. Know the truth, but continue working, as he had been, in the employ of the CPF, giving his blessing and talent to the mass murder of two races. That was what his father wanted. That was what was expected of him, and Cullen had a hard time breaking free from the expectations others placed on him. He wanted everyone to be happy with what he did.
There was a second option.
He didn’t even want to think about it, but his conscience forced him to consider the insane. He could disown the CPF. One day he could w
alk out of these doors and just keep walking. With Jane continuing to do his job for him, it could be days before someone noticed he was gone. By then he could have found someplace to hide. Maybe even find the Ma’Ha’Nae and join the fight.
Could he really do that?
More importantly, could he leave the black-haired woman here to die?
Cullen sighed. Why were all the life-altering questions so difficult to answer?
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
Aereas - somewhere over Sho’el Forest
Formless dark was the only thing Calier could make out on the other side of the Valkyrie window, but still he stared into it looking for a little bit of peace.
Maltoki sat down next to him. “Anything good to see?”
Calier slid over to give Maltoki room. “Not really. Even if I could, I’m not sure I would really see it. Know what I mean?”
“Nervous?”
“Just a little,” Calier said with a sigh. “You?”
“Nah. I never get nervous.”
Calier stared at him and then saw a wide smile crease Maltoki’s face.
“That’s a lie. I always get nervous. That’s why I move around.
Calier turned back toward the window. “I’m kind of in this now, aren’t I?”
“Up to your neck. The only way out now is to jump.”
Calier laughed softly. “I’ll take my chances in the city.” He looked down at his hands. “I’ve tried to figure out what I’m most afraid of. Strangely, it isn’t dying. I think it’s not finding Berit before I die. I let her down in the forest. I want to make it right.”
Maltoki’s hand closed over his shoulder and gave it a small shake. “You didn’t let her down. It’s hard to stand up to a well-trained, fully armed squad of soldiers with a couple crossbows and knives. We did the best we could, but fate had other plans. It just means you get to be a hero now and swoop in for the dramatic rescue.”
“I’d make a pretty good hero, wouldn’t I?” Calier said around a grin.
Maltoki stood. “Well, not as good as I would, but you’ll do in a pinch. Get some rest, Professor. We’ll be there soon.”
Maltoki walked to the other side of the ship and began talking with Mirala and Denar, their heads bent over a screen. Calier studied the three of them for a moment. Before the invasion they had different professions: a scout, a student, and a writer and craftsman. You couldn’t get a more diverse set of backgrounds with paths that would never have crossed had the humans not shown up. Despite the friction that occasionally flared between them, they made up the core of the best sentinel squad Alam had to offer. The will of the All-Knowing One could be a hard thing to understand.
Despite his anxiety and the uncertainty spreading out before him, Calier smiled and looked back into the darkness. It was uncertain, like the future of Aereas, but he was okay with that. He would succeed or fail knowing he’d tried and been exactly where his Creator had meant him to be.
He could live with that.
****
Standing on legs made numb by the water that eddied around him, Calier stared at the entrance to the ancient sewer system of Homa. The grated opening was half submerged below the water line of the river, but it still looked like the maw of some long forgotten creature waiting for its first meal in centuries. Its appearance was made more eerie by the green hue of his night vision goggles. The others had waded past him, as Maltoki worked with a small torch to cut away the grate covering the hole. A last cut was made, and the grate pulled free in Maltoki’s hands. Ammaya and Denar ducked into the opening and disappeared into the darkness. Maltoki started to enter and then looked back at Calier who’d stayed rooted to his spot.
“Are you coming, Professor? You’re the one leading this parade,” Maltoki whispered, beckoning him forward before he too disappeared into the dark tunnel.
Calier didn’t move. His legs had turned to concrete. Small spaces had never been his friend. Every time he’d been forced into one by his archaeological work, he’d always feared being buried alive. It was one of those irrational fears and he couldn’t pinpoint its origin. Internally chastising himself into motion, Calier ducked his head and found himself in a fairly large open chamber with three tunnels disappearing into the concrete. Each tunnel was just big enough for a crouching man to fit into. His three companions had waded out of the frigid water and stepped up onto a raised concrete platform and were now stripping off the black wet suits they’d worn to protect themselves from the water. From backpacks they produced black sentinel fatigues. Quickly donning their new clothes, they looked to Calier for the next step. In the light of his headlamp, Calier studied the markings over each tunnel entrance.
“What do you have, Professor?” Ammaya asked.
Using a knife, Calier scraped off dirt and grime that had built up over the centuries. “These tunnels were made during a time when not a lot of people could read actual writing, so the workers devised a system of pictographs denoting where each of these tunnels led.” He looked closely at the markings above the tunnel on the left hand side of the room. “I think this is the one we want. If we follow it and the proper branches after that, we should end up in what was once the slave quarters of the city.”
“Nice,” Ammaya said. “Our people definitely have a checkered past.”
“Absolutely,” Calier said, wiping his hands clean on his pants. “Slaves were spoils of war. Sometimes, depending on the city you were captured by, a life of slavery could be better than living under the tyrant who ruled your home city.”
Calier looked back into the darkness of the tunnel and breathed deeply. “I’m not sure this is the right time to tell you this, but I hate enclosed spaces. Perhaps hate isn’t the right word. I am, in fact, terrified of small spaces.
Ammaya moved next to him. “That was probably something you should have brought up in the meetings before we traveled all this way.”
“Probably,” Calier said, nodding.
“You’re here now and there’s no ride home without us.” Maltoki grasped his shoulder. “The sooner we get started the sooner we get out.”
Calier blew out a long breath. Ducking his head, he pushed his pack in front of him and crawled into the stale air of the tunnel which hadn’t been used in hundreds of years. The tunnel floor was moist and a bit muddy from rain run-off that still found its way in. There was room on either side of his shoulders, but if he didn’t stay in the center, they brushed against the walls. There was no way to turn around; if they ran into a dead end they would need to back out.
He inched forward and then stopped. Already sweat had soaked through his shirt and dripped off his forehead. His breath came fast and ragged. There just wasn’t enough air in the tunnel. The doubt he’d harbored in his chest was now battering his conscience. There was no way he would make it to the end. His hammering heart would explode before that.
Control was paramount. He closed his eyes, deliberately slowed his breathing, said a prayer, and filled his mind with positive thoughts. The face of his long dead wife came to him. Her image forever frozen in the prime of her life before disease took her away. The beautiful landscape of Aereas before the invasion reminded him of why he was doing this. His friends, those who’d traveled with him through Sho’el, made him smile. He inched forward slowly, eyes still closed. Then an image of Berit reuniting with her mother, Issae, moved across the canvas of his imagination. He wanted to make that happen, and if it required crawling through this tomb-like tunnel, then he would have to do it.
“How are you doing, Professor?” Maltoki’s voice echoed up the tunnel.
Calier willed himself into motion. “Brilliant,” he responded. “Just brilliant.”
****
After what seemed like days instead of only an hour or two, Calier tumbled out of the tunnel and into another large chamber like the one they’d previously entered. He lay on his back, drawing in great lungfuls of air and savoring the sensation of open space. Bringing his chronometer close to his headlamp he fo
und that they’d been traversing the tunnels for an hour and a half. He would face all the night stalkers in Sho’el any day rather than do that again.
Opening his eyes, Maltoki bent over him with an extended hand. The young man helped him to his feet and slapped him on the shoulder.
“Told you you could do it, you big baby.”
Calier grimaced. “That…that was no fun at all.”
“Good work, Professor,” Ammaya said stepping out of the tunnel and assisting Mirala to do the same. “No way we’d be here without you. You’re probably the only person on Aereas who could read those pictographs.”
“Maltoki could, if he’d paid attention in my class and actually studied,” Calier said.
Maltoki shrugged. “Study? In school? There were too many parties for that nonsense.”
Ammaya rolled her eyes and quickly shifted into her role as captain of the mission. “There are still several hours before daylight. It would be a good idea if we costumed-up and got started. We can poke around the air base and get a feel for what they have. Professor, it’s probably a good idea if you remain hidden until closer to daylight and then make your way to the hospital. If we aren’t back before then, do you know your way?”
The terror of crawling through the tunnels had begun to abate only to be replaced by a new fear. The idea of roaming enemy-infested streets turned his blood cold. Doubts hammered his mind, but Calier set his jaw and remembered the importance of the mission. It was important for Aereas.
It was important for Berit.
They donned the fresh human uniforms and laid their sentinel garb out to dry. Maltoki, Ammaya, and Denar said goodbye and then ascended the ladder. Maltoki pushed aside the grate and Calier watched the trio disappear through the dark hole. The grate was replaced and Calier stood in the silence.
He was alone in a city of full of humans.
