by David Adams
“How long?” she asked, staring out at the twilight. “It’s night again.”
“Hours,” Holston answered. “Less than a day. I wasn’t sure you’d be coming back.” He slid his hands to her waist, holding her. “The fluid injection will be running out soon.”
He already felt as though there were a heavy weight on his chest, the air thicker and harder to breathe. They ran over to the medical tent.
“One shot,” Liao said between panted breaths, “Double dosage.”
Within seconds it was as though he were breathing normal air. The faint, irritated lines of scratch marks on his hands and arms quickly faded away.
“I suppose the plan worked.”
Liao didn’t say anything. She wrapped her arms around her body defensively, her doubt palpable.
*****
Liao called another meeting despite the late hour, but this time it was for the entire crew. The majority of the crew had not known of the time skips before their sudden thrust from daylight into evening.
Reactor four was functional but had a damaged coolant system. Rowe believed that if it was brought up to maximum power, they could charge the jump drive and jump before it overheated and exploded.
That was the theory, anyway.
The last of the crew filtered out, leaving the two of them alone. Holston moved towards her, taking her hands in his.
“Tomorrow’s the big day, huh.”
She squeezed back. “Yep. Tomorrow.”
“You don’t sound too pleased.” He knew he had to be strong, that he should be the tough, wise-cracking sheriff who always thought everything was going to be okay, but he couldn’t do it.
Liao’s voice cracked. “How could I? I’m leaving. I’m leaving this place. I’m leaving you. Forever, and not just physically. We have no memory of the time skips, of where we are when we vanished. But we’ve always come back. What happens this time? We’re not just departing, Holston, we’re leaving and we’re not coming back. What if we go and the jump drive goes with us? It’ll be like we never came. You won’t remember me.”
Holston pulled her hands against his heart. “But I remember the skips. You know, I read somewhere that to live in hearts left behind, is not to die. The same goes for leaving, you know.”
“Does it?” Small trickles ran down Liao’s cheeks.
Holston broke the hold to brush them away with the back of his hand. “Don’t cry,” he said, “You’ll get me started. Then we’ll never stop, and it’ll be a huge mess.”
She laughed, despite it all, and threw her hands around his shoulders. “Stay with me tonight,” Liao asked, “Please.”
“That’s moving pretty fast for a lady of your graces,” he observed, slowly sliding his hands around her middle, breathing in her scent. Flowery and light, her uniform surprisingly soft for a military dress, hinting at what was underneath.
“Is it?”
“I know things look bad.”
Liao sniffled, wiping away the fresh tears. “When you’ve only got one tomorrow, tonight seems like a lifetime away.”
*****
Later that night
Holston was expecting a quiet night. Another dinner or a night spent worrying or trying to change things they couldn’t. Liao had other plans, though.
She had one of their Broadsword gunships fly off to in the night, a little bright light lifting off from the south side of the Beijing and disappearing into the inky black, heading towards a silo that they had found full of supplies. It returned with crates of food and medical supplies. These were stored on the other side of the hill, away from the ship.
The ship’s entire supply of the fluid dragged out of the medical tent and stored with the other supplies The rest of the crew added anything they had salvaged from this world. It couldn’t go with them.
Holston simply followed Liao around like a lost puppy.
Liao was driven. Energetic. He felt like just laying down and letting the world pass him by, letting the Beijing jump away, waiting for his dose of fluid to expire and allowing his body to be consumed as it was intended to be. But not her. She seemed to move with purpose, doing everything she could to ensure his survival in a world where he didn’t want to live anymore.
Holston found a moment where nobody was watching. He slid up behind her, holding her close, pressing his nose to her hair. “You know you can’t stop the ship from going away, right? Your crew wants to go back—they need to go back. You can’t keep them here.”
She twisted around and stared at him. “I don’t plan on doing anything like that.”
He pointed a finger over to the hill. “Then what’s with all this, huh? This is enough supplies to last the entire crew a year.”
She smiled a wide smile, shaking her head. “The crew has to go home.”
Holston felt her warm hands sliding up around his hands, interweaving her fingers with hers, squeezing tight.
“But nobody said I have to.”
“But how? You disappear with the rest of the crew, how can you stay?”
She squirmed around to face him, and then tugged lightly on the thin black cloth that covered his chest. “I’ve been talking to Rowe. Your clothes vanished when we disappeared the first time, because they were ours. But the second time—the second time you were sweating because it was hot inside the ship. You’d been taking the fluid, so your sweat had traces of it. It’d affected your clothes, binding them to this universe too.”
He wanted to believe that. “It doesn’t make any sense. You’ve already been taking the fluid, and for longer than I have.”
“You might think so, but I’ve also been exposed to the jump drive for far longer. Rowe’s of the opinion that a massive, concentrated dose of the fluid can keep me anchored in this universe.”
It took Holston a moment to process this. “You’re going to try this?”
Liao’s smile spread, a confident, easy smile that Holston used to bolster his own courage.
“I am. The plan is this. Doctor Saeed is going to give me a quadruple dose. I asked him for more but that’s about the safe limit. Then Rowe will charge the engines and jump the ship.”
Holston could barely believe it, but he knew that he would do the same in a heartbeat. The nagging voice, that hint that what he was doing was mad and impulsive beyond all reason, nagged at him but he silenced it. “You’d… you’d do that for me?”
“If there was some way I could take you with me, would you come?”
“You know I would. But what about the baby?”
Liao gave a soft smile. “She’ll be coming with us. The procedure is less dangerous on infants, because the fluid dose they need is less.”
It would be him, a child and Liao in the world. With enough fluid to last, supplies to let them live out their lives here, and enough knowledge of the ruined silos around to do great things. They might be able to convince other silos to open. There might very well be hope.
“What about Saara? What about Rowe?”
“They have to go back unfortunately. Besides, they don’t like it here.”
Doubt whispered into his ear. “Are you sure about this?”
Liao squeezed him again. “I want to be with you, Holston. I know that a life on this world is not going to be ideal, but it’ll be with you, and the baby, and that’s all I care about.”
Holston kissed her again, with more fire. Now it was a realistic goal, an achievable goal, and he would have the things he always wanted.
“Come you,” Liao said, gesturing to the large flap that lead to her office and bedroom, “Let’s get some sleep. We have a big day ahead of us.”
“We won’t be sleeping right away.” It felt entirely natural, entirely comfortable.
“Not quite,” she answered, laughing and tugging him inside. “Not quite.”
Chapter VIII
Fighting Fate
The day began to creep into Liao’s tent: little cracks of light peeking in from the bottom, or the seams, or everywhere. Holston
didn’t want to open his eyes, because he knew what this day was.
Tomorrow had seemed like a lifetime away yesterday, but now it was today. Yesterday was the distant one.
He extended his hands, finding Liao’s hips, drawn to her warmth. He didn’t want it to be today. Why couldn’t it be yesterday again? Time had already shown its fickle, undecided nature, casting aside the pretence of being linear and straightforward and plain. Today it was revealed as the complex, intricate thing it was.
So why couldn’t today be yesterday again, so Holston would have one more day with Liao? It didn’t seem too much to ask for.
Simple requests were so often denied. Simple things like having Liao’s crazy plan work out okay, for her and the baby. Things like making sure the rest of the crew got back okay. Things like the future, where nobody had to live in silos anymore. The day continued to brighten.
Holston leaned over and kissed her cheek from behind. “Hey.”
Liao smiled, squirming back against him. “Hey. All set for today?”
Not really. Not that it mattered. “I’m ready. Then again, I don’t have to do anything.”
“I know.” She inhaled, holding that breath and letting it out slowly. “I hope this works.”
“I hope so too.”
Liao wiggled around until she was facing him. “Think of what we’ll be able to do together. We can explore the ruined silos. Maybe find an occupied one that’ll let us in. We can share the fluid with them. We can start bringing humanity back to the surface and maybe when we’ve got the surface resettled, or at least all the Silos in communication with one another, they can pool their resources. Pool their knowledge. There might be a way to clean the atmosphere, purify the seas, get everything back to normal here. Or as normal as normal gets. That’s a noble goal, you know. Fixing an entire planet.”
Holston wished it could be true. Wanted it to be true. Liao seemed to think it would work. That confidence gave him something, some strength, but it wouldn’t be enough. They were risking so much for this. She was risking so much.
He smiled for her. “Fixing it together.”
“Together.”
*****
Later that day…
Doctor Saeed tapped the syringe. “You’re sure about this, right?”
Liao, laying on one of the benches the crew had salvaged from the wreckage, rolled up her sleeve. “I am.”
Holston reached out for her hand, holding it gently. “You’re very brave for doing this. You know the risks are substantial.”
“Phht, risk. Hit me, doc, then start on the kid.”
Doctor Saeed inserted the needle into Liao’s IV. The dull grey fluid dripped down the plastic line, mixing with the clear saline solution then trickled into the vein on her arm. Her veins became little grey rivers, the liquid working along her bloodstream, quickly becoming absorbed into her every cell.
“How are you feeling?” Holston asked.
“It’s a little painful, actually. Like having ice cold water injected into you. Feels odd.”
Holston looked to Saeed, but the doctor just nodded. “It’s not an unexpected reaction to such a large dose. It’ll be uncomfortable but not harmful.”
“It’s not bad, I promise. It’s not—ngg—bad. The birth was worse.” Liao clenched her fist, squeezing Holston’s hand so tightly it hurt.
Saeed slipped the needle into the infant. It barely stirred.
“Good kid,” said Holston. Liao had her teeth clenched and didn’t answer.
Saeed spoke into the radio. “Rowe? We’re all go here, power the jump drive and prepare to jump the ship.”
Holston curled his fingers around hers. He didn’t realise it was going to be this painful. “You’ll be okay,” he promised pointlessly, as though words could ward away what she was going through, “You’ll be fine. I’m right here.”
A faint hum carried through the air, a building of energy that heralded a building of the jump drive’s power. Holston felt his anticipation rise with it. Through the fabric of the tent a white light shone, as though the ship itself were glowing a bright light.
“We’re almost there.”
Liao managed a smile. “It’s fine,” she said, “It’s not so bad now.”
Holston knew enough to know she was lying. The spiderlike veins of her arm swelled with the dosage, the grey lines moving up over her shoulder, moving down under the jacket which covered her chest.
“Good,” he said, “keep it up. How long does the ship take to jump?”
Her hand jerked in his, shaking, squeezing so hard his knuckles turned white. “Not long now,” she said, “Kamal and Rowe will be putting the keys in pretty soon, then executing the jump.”
Holston nodded, wiggling his crushed digits. They needed to hurry. “Okay. No worries. It won’t be long then.”
The radio crackled and Rowe’s voice came over the line. “We’re all ready here, Captain. The ship’s ready to jump.”
Right as the transmission ended, the baby began to cry. Liao’s fist relaxed and she went limp. For a second she didn’t move, seemingly dead, then jerked and spasmed, her whole body shaking.
Holston reached over and snatched the radio from Saeed, fumbling for the talk key. “Rowe! Rowe, jump the ship now!”
Saeed shook his head and grabbed Holston’s shoulder. “No! She’s having a seizure, there’s not enough blood in her veins, it’s oxygen deprivation! You’re risking brain damage! We need to flush the chemical—”
“It’s too late for that!” Holston squeezed the radio’s talk button again. “Rowe! Rowe, do it!”
Rowe’s voice came through the radio. “We’re trying! We put the keys in, but there’s some kind of malfunction! It should be working but it’s not!”
Holston watched in horror as the hand he was holding became translucent. Saeed winked out before his eyes, along with the radio he was holding. Liao seemed caught in a flux; her flesh half visible, translucent and ghostly. Holston could see through her clothes, through her skin to the pulsing organs within, and the dark grey spidersweb of fluid travelling throughout her body in her veins. He could see her heart, beating furiously within the exposed ribs of her chest, and her brain and eyes and every part of her body. The heart beat faster and faster. She was going into arrest.
She was dying.
“Melissa! Melissa, hold on!” It felt like a useless plea, shouting at a dying woman not to die.
The baby shrieked as though in great agony, an otherworldly sound distorted by being half in this world. White light, the same hue as emanating from the entire ship’s surface, illuminated Liao’s body from within and the light grew painful, but he wouldn’t look away. The tent disappeared, the entire camp following piece by piece. Their baby fell silent as it faded away.
The light burned his eyes but he held on. The last thing to go was Liao’s body, slowly turning ghostly and ethereal, fading away.
A faint howl of pain, distant and short-lived, and the great floating steel ball once again floated where the Beijing had been.
*****
Much, much later…
Holston could have sworn, even from his distant vantage point, he could hear the faint crackle of energy that heralded the return of the Beijing.
The days had passed from one to another, but aside from the sun’s climb, descent and return nothing else seemed to change except for the tally of days he scratched into his diary. Aside the growing tally, the diminishing supply of the every single day was just as the other. His beard grew and was shaved only when the itching began to outweigh the apathy.
The last moments of Liao’s tether to his world played in his head, over and over again. Was that last cry of pain her? Would she be in agony all this time?
The sound grew louder.
He’d imagined the Beijing’s return every moment since the ship had vanished. He’d imagined, even as hope slipped away, that the ship would be just the way it was—its rusted guts, its crew of survivors, the baby and, of course, Li
ao. So many times he thought he’d heard it, only to be lied to by ears that desperately sought the noise. The hum.
He forced himself to ignore it, clapping his hands over his ears to dispel the illusion, but it only grew louder.
He dared to look. In the distance, the mound—the large, rolling hill that he and Liao had picnicked upon—was covered in shadow as the great spire of the Beijing appeared and enveloped the floating jump drive. The ship flickered and shimmered like a mirage, struggling to keep anchor itself in this reality.
Holston dropped the dairy he’d been writing in and, at a heedless sprint, tore over the hills towards the ship he thought would never return.
*****
He flew into the medical tent, expecting to see nothing, but right as Liao was pushing herself to standing. He grabbed her shoulders, drawing her against him, pressing his face to her ghostly and incorporeal shoulder.
“Oh God, you’re back.” He had hoped so long for something, and had it arrive so suddenly, it seemed unreal. False. “You’re back. You’re back!”
Liao’s hands, flickering in and out of existence like a flame in the wind, grabbed him and held him close. “Holston! Holston, how long were we gone?”
Time. Time, that fluid thing that just happened. He had nothing to do while she was away but his mind was now so full he could hardly speak. “I’m not sure. It’s been two winters. At least. I don’t know.”
He could feel her. Real, warm, true. The moment was fleeting and illusionary but she was real.
Saeed muttered something dark in Persian. “Two years?”
He barely heard him and didn’t care. Holston kissed Liao’s ghostly lips, then kissed over her cheek. Her nose. Her forehead.
“God. Oh God, oh God, oh God.” She reached up and touched his face, her hand trembling, translucent. “Two winters.” Her voice trembled. “How did you survive?”
“A cave. Near hear, in the hills. I found it.” Words tumbled out as fast as he could say them. “At first I tried to get back into the Silo, but no matter how much I waved and shouted at the camera, they didn’t seem to notice. I think they were screening me out. Digitally erasing me from the landscape. Or maybe they simply didn’t want to open the door. I don’t think they’d want anyone who’d been outside to return.”
