by J.J. Mainor
Chapter 4
Remy was shaken awake. He wished there had been windows on this ship so that he might peek out and see what was going on. Though it wasn’t a wise idea given the possible reasons for the jolt, he jumped from the bed and ran out his door. Anders was already on his way down the hallway to retrieve him.
“I’m ordered to take you to the bridge.”
“What was that? What’s going on?”
“We’re under attack.”
Remy was no stranger to conflict. None of his African missions passed without him taking some sort of weapons fire. He never went into a hostile country believing the letters on his shirt would shield him from harm. Still, opposing forces rarely targeted the powder blue shirts and flak jackets intentionally.
Out here, Remy made no illusion about what dangers he could face under this attack. A hull breach and venting atmosphere didn’t discriminate between uniforms. Power outages wouldn’t exclude certain individuals from the plunging temperatures. He was every bit as vulnerable as Anders was.
The ship shook again as the pair stepped onto the bridge.
“We have a hull breach!”
“Where,” Freedom demanded.
“Storage pod A-17.”
Remy’s eyes fixed on the ship in the view screen. Freedom had his own monitor beside his console, barking orders as the ship circled their own.
“Where are those inhibitors?”
Anders pointed out another old salt at the station behind Freedom’s shoulder. “That’s the XO, Lieutenant Colonel Fortune.”
“You’re kidding.”
Freedom craned his neck upon hearing the newcomers. “Doctor, I’d like you to meet the Confederation.”
Another quake nearly knocked Remy off his feet. He found it strange that they should be hit when there had been no weapons fire from the other ship.
“They got another primary inhibitor.”
“Then get the back-ups online. And where’s my armory officer? Why aren’t we firing back?”
Remy looked to Pittman at his console, amazed he had a clear enough head for his job after their little party and his afterhours workout.
“I’m trying to scramble the artillery, but pod A-17 held the silver for the firing pins.”
“Firing pins,” Remy thought to himself. “Artillery? He must still be drunk.”
Before he could finish his confusion, Anders clutched his chest and collapsed to the deck. Remy knelt down to help him. Without a pulse, he ripped his shirt open and began compressions to get his heart started.
“Man down back here,” he cried out seeking help. But no one answered. He glanced up from his hands briefly, seeking assurance that someone was going to help him save Anders life. All eyes were on the consoles and the ship on the view screen continuing an unassuming attack. Fortune was the next one to grab his chest and collapse behind his station. In some way, Remy understood they had to prioritize between the injured and their ship, but he could not believe these people were so jaded by this life that their own friends didn’t even earn a cursory glance. There was no amount of training in the world…or in their case the galaxy…that could shut down emotions and personal feelings for the greater good.
“I’m losing him!” Remy pleaded louder as his compressions grew stronger and faster. Surely one of them could be spared to save a life. Freedom finally rose from his chair to address the Inspector’s cries. “What’s happening to them, Colonel?”
Freedom brushed the hands aside so he could inspect his young officer’s chest. He too felt the lack of a pulse, but more, he felt the lack of the entire heart. No amount of compressions was going to save Anders’ life. He was gone, and if he had inspected the XO, he would find Fortune beyond saving as well. “They’re scrambling their hearts. I want those inhibitors up yesterday!”
Freedom returned to his chair to page Sadile, leaving Remy to ponder on the deaths. Anders had shown him some of the wonders their technology could fabricate. The molecular scrambler had seemed like such a miraculous piece of technology, he never imagined it could be weaponized in such a horrendous manner. Nor did he ever expect to see the day when humans would become so desensitized to death.
Colonel Freedom continued to bark orders, and his officers announced updates as if this was normal for them; as if the officers they just lost meant nothing. Freedom didn’t even give his second-in-command a second thought.
“Inhibitors are online around the bridge,” one callous officer announced, to be answered by more shaking. “They got one of our generators that time.”
As Remy took in the reports of this strange battle, he considered that they were all dead already as an explanation for their disinterest in the casualties. It seemed a matter of time before the Confederate ship had dematerialized the entire vessel. As he looked to the ship in the view screen to take in his would-be killers, he witnessed an explosion blasting apart one of their lower decks.
“What happened,” Freedom demanded.
Pittman turned to his commander with triumph. “I scrambled their reactor casing during their last volley!”
Freedom leaned forward on the edge of his chair, excited for the first time during the engagement. “When they drop their inhibitors to contain it, scramble their bridge!”
Before he could get the words out, his panel beeped. The enemy commander signaled he wished to talk, so the Colonel obliged.
“Colonel Freedom,” his counterpart greeted when the weathered face of another old veteran flashed on his monitor. “Or should I say Colonel Oppression.” He erupted in laughter, joined by that of the crew off screen around him.
Freedom added his own patronizing chuckles to the din. “General Mizenov, that joke gets funnier every time you tell it. Now tell me, why did you have to attack? We both know what you want, and you know I’ll give it to you.”
“I’m up for a promotion. You don’t get the seventh star through peace.”
Remy looked up from his dead partner with disgust, wondering how these two commanders could make such jokes with each other. Freedom had two dead officers on his bridge, and who knew how many were lost in that blast on Mizenov’s ship. It was no wonder the UN was kept out of their affairs when life was treated so lightly. He glanced over the Commander’s shoulder to the man on his screen. Beyond the ridiculous number of stars on his collar, the man had so many service ribbons, they barely fit on his shirt. As he moved in closer behind the Colonel to get a better look, he caught the attention of the General on his screen.
“Is that the inspector,” he lit up. “I heard you let the UN place one on your ship.”
Freedom turned sharply around, nearly knocking Remy backwards on his rear with the look alone.
“Yes, and I’m sure you don’t want him reporting this attack.” Freedom worked his control panel, returning his attention to his counterpart. “Take a look at that file and tell me if your attack was worth it.”
Remy closed in again as the General inspected something off screen. Then the hardened face went wide and returned to the Colonel. “I thank you my friend. This is everything I expected it to be.”
The screen went dark, and Freedom turned to his crew. “Disable the inhibitors and begin repairs.” He cast an angry glare to Remy, then turned to his two casualties. “Someone scramble the bodies. I’ll be in my office.”
As he rose from his chair and headed toward a door off the side of the compartment, Remy looked to him in disbelief before following after in his own fit of rage. He had managed to cross the threshold before Freedom rematerialized the door behind him.”
“Is that what your people are worth to you?” Remy shouted. “A human being is something to be scrambled when they’re broken?”
“Doctor, you have no idea what you’re talking about,” the Colonel warned. “Things are a lot different out here than what you’re used to back on Earth.”
“The only thing different I see is the weapons
you use to kill each other.”
Freedom cut him off. “Before you say another word, I want you to go the medical bay.”
“Why? Are you trying to say there’s something wrong with me? You think my outrage is a disease you can cure? Maybe that’s how you do things out here; when someone disagrees with your command, you scramble their brains so they’re more compliant.”
Freedom took a step toward Remy and placed his nose in the man’s face. “You are here as an observer. If you want a reason for our attitudes, then you get your ass to that medical bay and observe our casualties for yourself. Otherwise, you can return to your quarters and skulk; but you make sure you have all your facts straight before you start on the strongly worded letter you’re planning to write to my government.” The Colonel opened his door once again and stared down the Inspector until he left.
Remy made a slow procession toward the exit, looking around from officer to officer for any sign of remorse for their comrades. Instead, he witnessed a crew going about their jobs as if that battle was nothing but a light rain storm. Maybe Fortune didn’t mean anything to these men. As the XO, the man could have been a complete prick for all Remy knew, and his death could have been a silent relief. But he had seen Anders with some of these guys. He and Pittman got along well; they seemed like friends when they were all drinking together just a few hours ago. Even he seemed no more concerned for Anders than the Colonel had been.
He skulked back to his quarters alone and unescorted. He didn’t care about what was going on in the medical bay. No amount of humanity toward the injured would make up for their callousness toward the dead.
Remy fell back into his bed and pulled the covers over his head. Murillo’s dog was gone from his thoughts, replaced by that desperate face staring up from him on the bridge. He got over the anger from the attitudes and shifted to the unexplored possibilities. With the technology aboard this ship, he couldn’t help but wonder if they might have kept him alive if they could have gotten him to the medical bay the instant his heart was stolen. They already had the technology on Earth to keep his blood flowing. If they had acted, they could have put him on an artificial pump. Freedom didn’t even try to save his men. That was the worst part for Remy; a young man was dead and no one cared.
