by S. A. Lusher
“I mean, some of it was, sure. But it was a lot of other people's faults too. Even worse, I realized that I'd forgotten one of the core truths that I learned the hard way...life isn't fair. But it's more than that, life isn't just unfair. Life doesn't care. It doesn't care because it can't care. There is no...sentient force in the universe watching out for anyone. There is no measurable force, no thinking being, no god, that ensures that good things happen to good people and bad things happen to bad people. Things just...happen.”
“And that's scary,” Mosley murmured after a long moment of silence.
“Yes. It's terrifying. I thought that I...I thought my eyes were open. I've lost a lot, a lot in my life. Everything, really, but Trent. He's been there almost since the beginning. And I thought...” he laughed, bitterly. “I thought we'd be together for the rest of our lives. Live together, die together. But he died, and I didn't and I didn't know what that meant. But the reality of the situation is that it doesn't mean anything, because...I have to give it meaning. And I don't...” he hesitated, sighed, shook his head, “I don't know how to do that. I want to find my way back, I want to feel normal again, and I just don't know how.”
“Something my dad told me, once, was the only wrong action is no action,” Mosley said. Drake looked at him. He shrugged uncomfortably. “I think you just need to do...something. Anything. I mean, you're here, now, doing something out of the norm, I guess. I mean...if this whole thing really goes through, then you'll have made a massive impact on the lives of three people. Of me and my mom and my dad. And who knows? Maybe, when we get to our new lives, we'll be in a better position to do the same thing for other people...”
That sparked something in Drake's mind, a new thought that lit up like a pure, white beacon amongst the eternal gloom.
“Trent,” he whispered. “Trent...wrestled with this same problem.”
“He did?”
“Yes. He wanted to find...meaning, in his life.”
“So how did he find it?”
“He helped people. Signed up for a mission to save the galaxy. And I signed up with him because I wanted the paycheck and I thought that if I hoped to continue living, well, I'd better do my best to save the galaxy too. But Trent did it because...it was the right thing to do. And because it gave him meaning. It was an act of kindness.”
“Not a small one,” Mosley murmured.
“No, a big one. But, maybe I can do the same thing. I have...abilities. Talents. I can fight, I can stay alive, I can get jobs done that most other people can't.”
“Sounds like you can do a lot.”
“I can. And I should...”
Another moment of silence passed. Drake felt as if some shroud of darkness had been lifted from his mind, as if a great weight had been taken off of his soul. Even if he wasn't sure of it, of its nature or its certainty, he felt like he had an answer to his problem. A way back from the darkness he'd been wandering for months now.
A yawn took him unexpectedly.
“Shit,” he said. “Still tired.”
“Me too,” Mosley replied.
They finished their midnight meal, then went back to sleep.
* * * * *
This time, when Drake looked out over the miserable colony and saw the rain beading and running in the window of the shuttle, he didn't feel quite so shitty. In fact, he daresay he might actually feel kind of good.
Hawkins had come through in a big way.
Not only had he found jobs and a place to live for Mosley and his parents on the planet of their choice, (a planet heavy in forests and lakes and rivers called Koss), but he'd come up with a good cover story claiming that the government and military were paying out against a class-action lawsuit raised by everyone who survived the battle on the planet and the families of those who didn't. The money was enough to kill off all their current standing debt, cover the cost of moving out there and paying out their bills for the first six months, giving them plenty of time to settle in, get to work on their new jobs and get their lives going.
Plus, Drake threw in a bit leftover for fun money because why not?
He'd helped someone and he felt good. It was that simple. Maybe that was the magic of the act. It wasn't bullshit, a good deed really was its own reward. Could it honestly be that simple? That true? Drake smiled as the shuttle took off.
It was worth finding out.
STARCK'S LAMENT
CHAPTER 01
Despite the raw terror coursing through his veins like a straight dose of live-wire electricity, Eric's hands were steady.
“Any day now, Starck!” Sergeant Mathers called.
“Working on it,” Eric replied tightly.
All around him, the world trembled and shook. Somewhere nearby, a mortar shell collided with the earth and a fine wave of dirt settled over him and the panel he was crouched in front of. Sighing, he leaned forward and blew the dirt out of the panel he was working on, cleaning it out to the best of his ability. If these were different circumstances, he would have taken the time to pull out and clean each piece and part individually. But there was zero time as it was. Mortar shells and other terrors were being rained down from above.
Behind him, he could hear the wild shouts of his companions, covering his ass while he worked to get the defense cannon back online. The situation looked pretty shitty. He and his squad had dropped into the city to keep the insurgents from taking it. It was important, a support colony for a shipyard in a crucial system. Things had been looking like shit from the start. The enemy had arrived in bulk and while the Galactic Alliance troops had better hardware, the People's Liberation Militia had more men and sometimes that was enough.
Eric and his squad had been forced back to a temporary outpost that had fallen and been left abandoned. With all the fighting going on and the hectic chaos that engulfed the colony as both sides fought for control, it was their best option for staying alive and creating some kind of resistance. But that wouldn't mean shit if he couldn't get this fucking cannon online. It would deal with the immediate threat and give them some breathing room. Unfortunately, it was malfunctioning and he was doing his damnedest to get it functional.
“Starck!?” Mathers called.
“Almost got it!” Starck yelled back, raising his voice to be heard over the screaming, furious psychosis of battle that surrounded them.
“Now, Starck!” Mathers snapped, real panic slipping into his voice.
Behind him, someone screamed, it sounding louder than all the others. Had to have been one of their own. Starck ignored everything else, blocking out the frenzied sounds of battle, focusing wholly on this singular task.
He tore out a loose circuit and grabbed a fresh one from his pack, fitting it into place. That should do it...he hit the activation button. Nothing happened. Eric felt his whole body go cold. If that wasn't the problem then he'd have to spend at least five minutes searching for another one and they didn't have five fucking minutes-
With a sharp, electric pop and surge of power, the display lit up.
“Got it!” Starck called, standing up and hitting the auto-fire button. That did it. Above him, he heard the almighty roar of triple chainguns spitting out a couple hundred rounds a minute, chewing up armor and flesh alike and, above that, the occasional deep thrum of a missile launching into the sky to collide with a mortar round and blow it up midair or to take down an enemy vessel. A series of cheers went up and Eric heard the men open fire with a renewed vigor. He snatched up his own rifle to join them and spun around.
The outpost was situated on a rise of land in someone's front yard. Overhead, the night sky was alive with a hazy pall of smoke and a thousand different lines of tracer fire, lit by a backdrop of constantly shifting and flaring bombs and mortars. He saw his squad and the stragglers they'd picked up, situation at the barricade surrounding the cannon, holding off the incoming insurgents. Beside him, Mathers stood, a big, fearless grin on his face.
“Goddamn good work, Starck, now let's get to
it!” he snapped.
It was the last thing he ever said.
Right before Eric's eyes, the man was hit by a mortar round, disappearing into a fine vapor of so much free-flying pink mist...
* * * * *
Eric gasped awake, snapping straight up, heart hammering in his chest. For a second, he could see nothing at all and he felt his panic begin to rise up and consume him. But then his eyes adjusted and he realized that he was in a room, his room, and a dim light from the time display on his nightstand allowed him to see the familiar landscape of his living quarters. Eric took a deep breath and let it out slowly, trying to relax.
He made himself lay back down, still trembling with adrenaline from the nightmare. Well, not actually a nightmare. A memory, really. As he rested his head on the pillow once more, Autumn shifted beside him. He glanced over. She was facing away from him, the blanket partially off of her, her bare, smooth back looking vaguely alluring in the dim light. For a moment he considered waking her up, asking her for sex, (she almost never declined), but he wasn't sure he could get it up right now. He was too rattled.
For a moment, Eric closed his eyes and simply laid there, trying to relax his pulse. It had been a while since the war. He'd lived to see its end and had come out the other side intact...well, physically intact, that was. Emotionally, mentally...those scars were still healing. He wasn't sure if they ever fully would. He'd already been in the Marines for a year when the Systems Wars broke out. It had been a hard, three-year slog, but he'd made it through to the end. When it was over, he'd chosen not to renew his contract.
And he'd been drifting ever since then, drifting now for three years.
Autumn shifted again, then rolled over. Her eyes were open. She smiled sleepily at him, realizing that he, too, was awake. Her black, shoulder-length hair was splayed across her face, standing out in stark contrast to her pale skin. When he'd first gotten to know her, she'd been tanned, but being in space so long had turned her quite pale. Her green eyes caught what little light there was available and in the dim glow of the clock panel beside them she looked ghostly and beautiful. She reached out and ran her fingers across his cheek.
“Are you okay?” she asked. “I thought I heard you talking in your sleep.”
“Yeah...I'm fine. Just nightmares,” Eric replied.
She frowned. “I'm sorry, honey. I know how much those fuck with you.” She propped herself up on one elbow and leaned forward, pressing her lips, warm and wet, against his forehead. “Ugh,” she said, and he realized she must be looking over the top of his head, at the clock. “It's almost eight. We should get up.”
“Yeah, I guess so,” Eric agreed. He couldn't sleep anymore if he tried anyway, but he knew Autumn very much liked her slumber and didn't have any of the problems drifting off. She was typically asleep within five minutes of finishing their usual nightly sex. He envied her. He usually laid around in the darkness for at least half an hour before finally slipping into unconsciousness. Eric pulled the blankets back and sat up. Swinging his feet over the side of the bed, he stood up. Shivering slightly, as the deckplates were cold, he moved over to the light switch and flipped it onto its lowest setting. Even still, he winced slightly.
“Ugh, I wish you'd get a carpet in here or something,” Autumn complained as she stood up, shivering as her feet touched the floor.
“It helps you wake up,” Eric replied.
“Yeah, I guess so,” she murmured.
They'd had that exchange so many times now that it was almost as much a morning ritual as brushing his teeth or taking a leak. Eric yawned, stretched and rubbed at his eyes. He followed Autumn, both of them equally nude, into the bathroom. While Autumn moved to get the shower started, Eric took a look at himself in the mirror. He wasn't sure why he did it, though sometimes he thought that he might be checking himself for fresh wounds, since he often had some kind of nightmare related to his time during the war.
Eric thought he was still in pretty good shape. Not quite as pumped-up as he'd been during wartime, but his muscles were still clearly defined enough beneath his dark skin. He was glad that he didn't have to worry about going pale out here in the deep space. Silver eyes stared back at him and they still had that faint glow to them. Even after five years, Eric's eyes creeped him out a bit. He'd gotten implants while in the military and at the time he'd thought a silver sheen over his eyeballs would give him a bit of dramatic flair.
He didn't exactly regret it now. They did still look nice and they helped give him perfect vision, though they still needed time to adjust to the darkness. He'd often thought about getting an upgrade, since there were all sorts of crazy extras and bonus features out there, everything from infrared to x-ray vision, but he couldn't seem to bring himself to go under the knife again. That first time had been creepy enough. Just the thought of someone cutting his eyes out and replacing them with implants was just...ugh, it was horrible.
“You coming babe?” Autumn asked, already in the shower, her voice muffled slightly by the closed door and the fact that she must be brushing her teeth.
“Yeah, just a minute,” Eric replied.
Now that the terror had passed, he was starting to feel a little horny. Even after four months, being around Autumn naked still got him going pretty quickly. Given that he had morning breath, he hastily brushed his teeth, rinsed and spat, then joined her in the shower. She was a visage of a beauty. Almost as tall as he was, she had a thin, lithe build, small but very functional muscles packed onto her trim frame. Her hair was even darker now, plastered to her skull. She seemed to sense his gaze and turned to look at him, favoring him with a thin smirk.
“I know that look,” she said.
He chuckled. “Is that a yes?” he replied.
She respond with actions, stepping closer to him and embracing him, kissing him deeply. He wrapped his arms around her.
* * * * *
He was just lacing up his boots when the shipwide comms clicked on. Captain Marco Peltola's voice came down from overhead.
“Everyone, we've picked up a distress call. Report to the bridge.”
Eric glanced over at Autumn, who was doing the same.
“Someone dropped the ball,” she said.
“And we got the call,” Eric murmured in reply.
He finished lacing his boots up, making them very tight, as was his habit, and then he stood up. Taking a quick step into the bathroom, he checked himself over. He thought he looked half-decent in his dark blue jumpsuit. It was standard attire for his job. His job now being Search & Rescue. It was the latest in a long line of occupations, though this one was definitely the best, (although a lot of that probably had to do with Autumn), and he'd been at it for four months now. It was decent pay, he liked the people he got to work with and the work itself was generally satisfying. After all the people he'd lost during the war, it was nice to save some.
Eric frowned briefly, glancing at his head and beard. He kept all his hair pretty much shaved, though now there was a good layer of stubble. He briefly considered shaving again, but there really wasn't time.
“You ready?” Autumn asked.
“Yeah, coming,” Eric replied.
He turned away from the mirror and followed her out into the corridor. As they stepped out, Eric nearly bumped into Seth. Not that it would have affected the man. Their main man for all things related to security was a behemoth. Easily six and a half feet tall, he came from a small colony of Egyptians that had struck out on their own decades ago to make a living. According to Seth, they had done quite well for themselves after finding a huge seam of minerals not far below the surface near their colony. He'd been a miner since he was sixteen and after about a decade of that, he went into the business of protection.
“Time for another challenge, am I right?” he asked as he saw Eric.
“Definitely,” Eric replied, smiling despite himself. There was a very simple joviality and kindness to Seth. The man was a study in duality. On the one hand, if ever Eric had me
t anyone that fit the description of 'gentle giant', it was this hulking, beefy man standing before him. On the other hand, Eric had seen Seth fight and he had absolutely no compunctions about putting down hostile targets. He was damned good at it, too.
Seth was the kind of man you wanted watching your back.
The three of them moved out of the cramped corridor that granted access to the living quarters. Eric wouldn't exactly call their vessel tiny, but it would never be mistaken for luxurious or roomy. As they left the dormitories and stepped into the main corridor of the ship, they were joined by another of the crew. Ronnie Burrows was the ship's engineer. He was there to make sure the ship itself continued functioning, while Eric served as the primary engineer when the team was away from, on rescue missions.
Though they both served as back up for the other.
Ronnie was a grim, gloomy man in his early forties who also had the extreme pale pallor of deep space and kept his head shaved like Eric and Seth. The man never seemed to get enough sleep, as there were always dark bags beneath his eyes. He looked kind of...haunted. Eric had never really gotten a straight answer out of him as to why he was so gloomy and pessimistic all the time, but, despite that, he was a decent enough person to have to share space with. Besides the relentless pessimism, he didn't really have any bad habits or annoying tendencies.
“Someone fucked up again,” he muttered as the quartet strode down the main corridor of the vessel towards the bridge.
“That's what we're here for,” Autumn replied.
“Yeah. It's a kickass job,” Seth said, grinning broadly. “We get to go in, look badass, rescue some people. It's great.”
“Uh-huh,” Ronnie replied sourly.
They came to the bridge and stepped through the door as it opened for them. The rest of the crew was already there, studying a large display screen. Eric scanned them all briefly. Their commander, Captain Marco Peltola, stood before the screen, scrutinizing it intensely, arms folded across his chest. If Seth was a man you wanted watching your back in a fight, then Captain Peltola was someone you wanted leading you into battle. He stood several inches taller than Eric's five foot ten height and had a good, solid build, looking distinct from his mixed American and Middle Eastern heritage. They'd had a a dozen and a half rescue missions together at this point, and so far the man hadn't even come close to losing his cool.
