Generations (The Nimbus Collection Book 3)

by Clemens, D. C.

  Seeking to recover valuable time, the Major quickly acted to regain his primary weapon by first getting it within his sights, finding it leaning on a wooden crate, and then warping the air around it to lift and glide it back to its owner, relieved to be reunited with his companion. He no longer remarked the hollow space as he ran up the steps with a lighter mind than before. He eventually arrived at a darkened passage, delayed, but better reached than not at all. The warrior traveled farther into the shadows of the corridor, nearly reaching absolute darkness before he realized he had arrived in a chamber containing several freight convoys on some railways, each leading to different sections of the mine. They were corroded, but in better quality than the one he had abdicated. He noticed one rail was bare of any freight cars and he concluded that this was the direction his objective had taken. To his surprise, the mine’s controls were not tampered with and followed his command to bring a flat car to him. On further reflection, he supposed the head terrorist kept open the possibility that his comrades would actually succeed in eliminating their pursuer and return to him. This hopeful, if naive, prospect gave the Major both the means to catch up to the target and the extra time to do it. When the flat car had reached him, he ordered it to move forward in haste.

  It traveled at a good, if bumpy, pace through the aged tunnel, lit somberly by a few speckled lights in the center of the ceiling. The warrior soon approached a growing light ahead. Toward this light at the end of the tunnel, the Major began to hear the faint, deep hum of an engine. The tone was consistent, meaning it was keeping still. Zooming his sight inquisitively closer, he observed the outline of a small space shuttle, big enough for no more than half a dozen passengers. Originating from above him, the soldier started to hear the rumble of a hanger door start to open. Extending from the left side of the ship was a ramp linking to an open doorway, where the figure of a human stood in the center, facing the underpass. The Major acknowledged who he signified, regardless of only being able to see the silhouette of his body and the dark indigo armor he sported. Just when the target caught sight of the freight car’s commuter, he ran into the spacecraft with the understanding that his allies were beyond saving.

  Swiftly then, as the ramp retracted and its door closed, the ship started to move upward, its two cylindrical lateral thrusters pointing downward to achieve the goal. The Major recognized he could not reach it in time, but that did not vex him. The roof was nearly fully open, tempting the craft to rise higher to grasp its freedom, its engines droning louder and echoing their authority into the channel. The composed soldier didn’t have to wait long for the perfect occasion to strike. With the ship halfway up the 150 foot high chamber, the Major could see one of the two thrusters by the time the freight car was slowing down to a stop. Sure enough, the thruster’s susceptible underside came into view within his scope, begging for the trigger to be pulled. The warrior complied. Utilizing his flexible firearm’s underbarrel, with the freight car coming to a turbulent stop beneath him, he fired a grenade.

  The thruster ignited violently when the grenade impacted its inside wall. An expanding flame replaced the engine, instantly altering the ship’s poised ascension. The craft did not have time for any corrective measures as its starboard side smashed against the narrow vertical rock wall opposite the warrior, trembling the entire chamber. The collision was so vigorous that it seemed that the ship’s desire was to go completely through the wall, but the small vessel hadn’t the power. It lingered on the wall for a long moment until it finally fell, dragging itself against the wall, splitting the bedrock in its course. The transport eventually crashed onto the floor, brutally coming to an inclined rest. It sent a wave of dirt, dust, and pebbles in all directions, blocking a clean observation of the craft for a minute.

  The Major stood watching like an uninvolved spectator until the end of the spectacle. By then, the freight had lost most of its hustle near the end of the track and the triumphant combatant was allowed to safely hop off, eager for an inspection of his work. He walked through the fluid haze and climbed onto the cracked surface of the takeoff pad, barely comprehending the shapes in front of him, one of which belonged to the shallow crater of concrete surrounding the ship. On reaching the precipice of the mini-crater, he could make out the bow of the ship through the settling dust. He became aware of the details of it; the deep dents, the rough scratches, the fractured glass on the opaque windowpane, and the black lines running across the blue framework. The smoldering engine was the darkest black ever known, the charring of the extinguished fire having left its mark. Nothing stirred from the wreckage within.

  As more details of the ship emerged to the warrior’s perception, so did a few details of his life trickle back into his cognizance. Simple things, like his name, where he lived, the voices of his family, things that were nonexistent in the duration of the pursuit were revealed to him in fractions. But when he heard the clattering of another flat car approaching, he resuppressed his memories to the revered place in the back of his mind, a place where no one could get to during a time of professional mayhem, not even himself. His mission wasn’t quite over, and the rest of his company had arrived. As the Major turned to acknowledge the newcomers and specify their orders, the hissing sound indicating an opening door compelled him to whirl back around to face the ship. Pointing his rifle at the opening, a stumbling figure exited the craft, hands gripping the back of his helmet. He dropped to his knees. His face was hidden underneath the dark visor of his helmet, but the Major had an impression he was completely crushed in his defeat; a common symptom for those who encountered his organization.

  The lead radical never uttered a word during the time he was restrained and wirelessly hacked into using the squad’s assigned A.I.—partially located in a little floating, silver drone when the team was off their ship—who punctually discovered and collected the data locked in the cybernetic portion of his brain. It wasn’t until his team’s rectangular shuttle was sinking into the chasm did the fanatical leader speak, though only a whisper above the gusts of the thrusters. His tone was hoarse and sullen, almost making the Major pity him, who was apparently meant to be the beneficiary of the spoken words, seeing as he stood nearest him, though the prisoner was not staring at anyone in particular.

  “Didn’t think they’d send the damned Valor after us. I told my partner it wasn’t worth raiding that orbital station, that it was probably no more than some science lab, but she kept pointing out that it was not in any public records and so it just had to be this super-secret facility that contained information we could sell to the highest bidder. There wasn’t even any real security and no one put up a fight. I haven’t even been able to see most of the info I’ve lost my crew over. It’s heavily encoded.” The speaker finally looked up at the Major. “I don’t get it, why were the Valor sent after us? What are in those files?”

  The Major allowed him to say his piece, but remained silent to the inquiry. Not because he held the criminal in contempt, as far as he was concerned, the act of surrendering transformed even the vilest of felons back into someone who deserved their say, but because he had no answer. He could only bring the convict to his feet and usher him into the transport. The detainee spoke no more and all the Major could do was wonder what kind of data would compel the Galactic Parliament to issue forth his squadron into battle with enemies better handled by local authorities. He had fought hordes of slavers, swarms of pirates and mercenaries, prevented massacres by dictators, and stopped much more prolific terrorist attacks, but few missions had baffled him more than this one. It simply didn’t make much sense. Knowing nothing less than disobeying a direct order would satisfy his curiosity, the Major dismissed the impression in his gut that told him to command an investigation of the data.

  Hours later, when both the convict and recovered files had passed into the recesses of a prison transport that had met them at the designated coordinates, a strong feeling of a wasted opportunity panged the Major’s mind. He wordlessly prayed to the Sacred to gi
ve him a chance to correct the mistake, if he had indeed made one.

  Twice Upon a Time

  March 23rd, 3333 S.E.

  I just had to tell somebody, and that somebody had to be my sister. She’ll undoubtedly think I’m just some fickle-headed, giddy child with no notion to how real life works, but I knew she’d at least keep my thoughts between us. I had to wait until we wouldn’t be interrupted by my always snooping little brothers, so I went ahead and messaged Ann that I’d meet her at her lunch hour. A few minutes before the appointment, I paid the ten credits for an auto-cab to fly me the quick forty miles to Ann’s usual lunch spot, a quaint outdoor café with good sandwiches. I was already sitting at a table under the red canopy by the time my sister touched my shoulder to let me know she was there.

  She sat down in front of me, wearing a pretty blue blouse and a tad too short black business skirt that made her look like she was a producer for a major movie studio. In reality, she was an intern for a law firm, something that earned her extra credit for the university. Still, I hated how easily she could make herself look so prim and professional with just the basics. I considered myself a lost cause on that front, so I normally followed the trendy stuff. I currently had a bit of gothic on me, but I was phasing out of it and heading for a mix of preppy and traditional. Anyone seeing us together would not only see our different styles, but also note our more general physical differences. I was half a head taller, lankier, and while I was a natural blonde with curly hair, she was a short haired raven. There was also a smooth grace in Ann’s movements I admired and envied. As Mother put it, I hadn’t grown into my own grace yet and just needed to be patient. In any case, the variances came about because I had been adopted, followed shortly after by my brothers, who were related to each other.

  After she had placed her order with a thought directed at the restaurant’s site, Ann asked, “Okay, Odet, what’s this about?”

  I could feel myself blushing.

  Before I could utter a sound, my sister said, “Gods, this is about a boy, isn’t it?”

  “That’s not a hundred percent correct.”

  “A chick?”

  “No! It’s a guy, just not exactly a boy. He’s older.”

  “How much older? Who is it? No, you know what, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know.”

  “Well, you don’t have to know who it is if you don’t want to.”

  “Wait, so I would know who it is?”

  I shrugged and kept silent as my orange fruit drink and submarine sandwich was brought to me.

  Ann shook her head. “My sweet Odet. If I know this old guy, then that means Mom and Dad know him. Why are you here? Are you actually saying you want to piss off Mom and Dad and date someone two centuries years older than you before you even enter college?”

  “He’s not that much older. He’s still in the prime in his life and all that. We could be together two hundred years if all goes well, which should be easy for a doctor.”

  “Doctor! I see, you’re talking about Dr. Paterson, aren’t you?”

  I think I nodded too happily when I said, “Yes! Don’t you think he’s gorgeous? He’s athletic, funny, and smart as shit. Oh! And that soft black hair-”

  “And we’ve known him since we were little girls! Ugh, what brought this on anyway?”

  I waited until the waiter finished bringing Ann’s food for me to start talking again. “Well, it wasn’t exactly one thing. I only started realizing I had a crush on him a few weeks ago. Then he visited Dad yesterday. We talked a little, and he told more of those dirty jokes of his when Dad was out of earshot. They made me laugh so much. I don’t know. It just hit me. He never treats me like a child and he’s already this accomplished, mature guy. Why would I even want to date anymore juveniles when I could bag a real man?”

  “Gods, listen to yourself. I hope you’re talking to me because you know I’m going to point out all the little details that will burn your fantasy to the ground.”

  With a full bite of food in my mouth, I said, “Lyck whot?”

  “First off, who says a mature guy wants an immature gal? You’d have nothing in common.”

  “First off, we already get along soo well. He says he likes my youthful spirit and I like the idea that he can teach me stuff about the galaxy and… other stuff. Besides, thanks to medical technology and all, tons of people get together now no matter what their age.”

  “Yeah, but one usually didn’t see the other grow up. I can’t imagine he sees you anymore than his friend’s adorable little girl.”

  “Oh, a few of the right outfits and he’ll forget all about a ‘little girl.’”

  Ann rolled her eyes with an amused grin, but she didn’t say anything as she continued to eat, which we both continued doing for another few minutes. I was in no hurry, but Ann had to be hastier.

  Finally, she said, “Seriously, Odet, you’re not just going to declare your undying love to this man, are you?”

  “Of course not. It wouldn’t be romantic if I were to be the one to proclaim their love. I’ll simply sprinkle in my interest every now and then. By the time he recognizes that he’s fallen in love with me, then I’ll either reciprocate that love or I would have lost interest. Time will tell all, big sister.”

  She sighed an itty bitty sigh that others would have missed. “Well, as long as you give yourself time to cool off, I guess I won’t panic, and it’s not like I don’t find George kinda cute…”

  I felt better getting it out of my system. I did sort of see her side, almost expecting that telling someone would be enough to calm me down, but my nerves kept twisting every time I saw him. I paced myself, however. I spent the next few weeks getting ready to graduate high school. I wasn’t close to failing or anything, but it was a good excuse to strike up an anxious sounding conversation or two with Dr. Paterson concerning my future plans. He was his typical astute self in his answers to me. There was even a suggestion that completely took me by surprise. I had assumed for the last year that I was going to study music, but when he mentioned that he saw me as a celestial zoologist, I suddenly saw myself doing the same. He said it so offhandedly, too, only having to point out my obvious love for animals of all kinds (except for worms). I felt dumb for overlooking the possibility. It seriously jumbled my future vision of myself, though it did add to my belief that he knew me so well already and that he wanted what was best for me.

  Five months after my high school graduation and I was going to Calista University with my sister. Since I was now confused about my future, George being the only clear figure in my mind, I was content in taking my basics for the first few semesters. Meanwhile, I kept away from dating the younger guys who tried picking me up. This I casually told Dr. Paterson one evening over a get-together at my parent’s house.

  With some of his boyish grin at the edge of his lips, he said, “It’s good that you’re concentrating on your studies rather than on boys.”

  “Well, it’s not like I’m boycotting dating, but I know what college guys want, and I’m not interested in being somebody’s release valve. If the right minded guy came along, it’d be a different story.”

  He swirled his white wine in his glass. “I’m happy to hear you be so pragmatic about the whole thing. Few women your age seem to forget that there is plenty of time to forge real relationships once you’ve settled other parts of your life.”

  Pressing the topic of relationships further, I said, “And you, doctor? I don’t mean to pry, but I can’t help but notice you don’t bring many of your lady friends over very often.”

  “Oh, that. I’ve yet to meet a woman worth bringing over. To be frank, I can’t even say I’ve been in a real relationship in the last decade. I’m not one to rush these things, but maybe I should be a little more proactive if people are starting to talk about my bachelorhood.”

  “No, no one’s talking, doctor. I was just curious.” I cleared my throat after taking a sip of my soda. “So, anyway, what kind of woman would be worth bringing ove
r? If you don’t mind indulging my curiosity a little further.”

  “Not at all. It can’t be much different from most others. Though there do have to be several necessary elements. A woman who is constantly eager to learn something new is essential, preferably while traveling. I used to travel often before I settled here, and while I planted myself here because I do enjoy it, I’ve found the travel bug has bit me recently. Before I get up and leave, however, I suppose I wouldn’t mind finding someone to tag along with me.”

  “You have no idea how romantic that sounds.” I blushed deeply, since I had wanted to say that only in my head, and certainly less starry-eyed.

  He chuckled. “I should just put that up on the net, right? ‘Doctor seeking woman for interstellar travels.’ Do you think I’d get a lot of responses?”

  “Too many to count.”

  We started talking on other things, but we had to break off when other people butted in.

  I started to become worried about his longing for travel comment. Just how much longer before the nomadic itch became a punch to the balls? Would it be when he believed there was no woman on this colony world that met his criteria? Luckily, my parents never mentioned Dr. Paterson’s desire to head off-world for the next few months, as they would be among the first to know if he really was leaning toward that rash decision.

  There came a point when I pretty much had to choose which career path to make my primary degree. I had taken a few music courses in high school that gave me a head start in that field, but the celestial zoologist option only kept tugging at something deeper. And it wasn’t like I thought either option gave me a better chance at alluring Dr. Paterson, despite one of them being his own suggestion, it was more akin to a stronger understanding that I could be happier in one than in the other. I could imagine myself in almost any musical endeavor, whether that be composing orchestras or teaching someone to sing a ballad. But more and more was that future hazier. I was now seeing a version of my on some far off world with new beasts of all types to study. There would be tiny puffball creatures playing on my palm, or helping to soothe an angry dinosaur-like being I had helped raise from a hatchling. Either one I could see the doctor supporting me, though the zoologist did compliment the travel thing a little better.