Dust

by Jason Hutt

  She started to feel tears welling up. She couldn’t just stand here anymore. Eleanor ran toward the kit.

  ***

  The control room erupted in flame. Max heard a giant crack behind them as a plasma bolt from the remaining hovertank struck the observation window and sliced through the room. He felt a wave of heat slam into him. Then, he heard Eleanor scream as the bolt tore through the room and into the bank of monitors.

  Max let go of Nick as he instinctively covered his head to protect against the incoming barrage of rock, glass, and metal. The bank of monitors exploded in a shower of sparks. Something slammed into him and he hit the floor hard, knocking the breath from his lungs. He laid on the floor with his eyes closed, arms covering his head, and knees tucked into his chest as the room was torn apart in the explosion.

  After a few moments, Max opened his eyes as Aldous Sinclair shrieked in pain. Max looked over at where Eleanor had been; his heart dropped when he only saw a charred stump. Then, the sounds of her sobs reached his ears and he saw her crouched against the far wall. He looked back at the stump and then found the other half of one of Sinclair’s creatures on the other side of the room.

  He slowly got to his feet as he found Sinclair writhing in pain on the floor. The back half of the man’s body was burned and riddled with broken glass and plastic.

  “It’s what you deserve,” Max whispered.

  Max turned and looked for Nick. He had landed a few feet behind him. He was face-down, unmoving. Max scrambled over to him.

  “Eleanor,” Max called out, “The kit!”

  He gestured toward it and she found the courage to yank it off the wall and come running toward him. Sinclair’s remaining creation watched as Eleanor ran but otherwise did not respond.

  “Nick…come on, kid,” Max said nervously. He reached down and grabbed his shoulder. Nick didn’t move. He felt for a pulse but found none.

  “No, kid, please.”

  Max gestured frantically towards Eleanor.

  “Give me the defib patches!”

  She opened the kit and hesitated.

  Max gestured to a pair of large white patches emblazoned with a large red cross. He took them from her trembling hands and placed one on either side of Nick’s chest. He didn’t bother to remove Nick’s coverall; it would take too much time. They weren’t supposed to need direct skin contact anyway. Still, he hesitated a moment before putting his thumb to the activation pad on the center of the patch. A red light started blinking and Max pulled his hand back.

  Nick’s muscles contracted and his chest violently heaved upward.

  Max and Eleanor waited, but nothing happened. After several moments, Max put his thumb to the activation pad again.

  Nick’s muscles contracted again. Five seconds passed and Nick still lay there unmoving.

  Max grabbed the kit and tore it open, looking at each vial and packet and then throwing them aside.

  “What are you looking for?” Eleanor asked.

  “I have no idea,” Max said as he went from one item to the next. He tried to read the labels, but he grew frustrated at how long it was taking to find something useful. Max turned Nick over and placed his ear to his chest. He didn’t hear a sound. Tears welled up in Max’s eyes.

  “Christ, kid,” Max said.

  Max placed his hand on Nick’s shoulder. He wanted to shake Nick until he opened his eyes. Eleanor held a syringe out to him. He scanned the contents - adrenalin, pain inhibitors, regen nanites - and decided this was the best he could do. He raised the syringe up when Sinclair spoke.

  “Max…wait.”

  Sinclair screamed in pain as he tried to get to his knees. Max swung his head around; his cheeks were red with fury.

  “Not now, Doc,” Max said, not taking his eyes from Nick.

  “Max, please…you must give me the shot.”

  Max looked over at Sinclair, his face flush with anger.

  “Do you actually expect me to help you?” Max asked. “I wouldn’t piss on you if you were on fire.”

  Sinclair’s voice was a raspy whisper.

  “I am…the only one…who can destroy this place. Your friend...is beyond help.”

  Max knelt there and looked at the syringe. He looked at Eleanor’s tear-streaked face and then back to Nick’s unmoving body. He leaned over and placed his hand on Nick’s neck again; he felt nothing.

  “I’m sorry, kid,” Max said, “I’m so sorry.”

  Max reached down and lifted Nick up, wrapping his arms around him. He hugged the young man close and then gently lowered his body to the floor. Then, Max slowly stood up, watching Sinclair writhe in agony. The old Doctor’s back was now exposed, the flesh charred; Max had to cover his nose from the sickly sweet smell. Bits of green and black were embedded in his skin. Max wanted the Doctor to feel every second of pain, but he knew Sinclair was right.

  “Max…please.”

  Max held the syringe in a white knuckled grip as he knelt next to Sinclair. He looked into the old man’s clouded, blood-filled eyes with pure hate. Then, he raised the syringe and plunged it into Sinclair’s back. Sinclair howled in pain and then fell silent.

  Max sat back when Francis burst into the room. Francis, blood-stained and covered in sweat and grime, stood in the debris strewn doorway and searched for his father. When he finally saw his father lying unconscious with the empty syringe sticking out of his back, his remaining human eye went wide and his face contorted into a mixture of disbelief and horror.

  Francis charged across the room toward Max as he let out an inhuman growl. Max pushed Eleanor away and just tried to go limp as the behemoth crushed him. Air was once again knocked forcefully from his lungs. Pain exploded in his shoulder as Francis drove him into the floor.

  Francis moved with blinding speed and knelt over Max, pinning him down. Francis raised his right fist when the elder Sinclair’s faint voice cried out.

  “Stop, Francis.”

  Francis was barely able to stop his swing. He whirled his head around and looked into his father’s eyes. He scrambled off of Max and over to his wounded father.

  “Father?”

  “Help me up,” Sinclair said.

  Max blinked to try and clear the stars from his eyes. When Francis was at a safe distance, Eleanor ran to his side with pain pills in hand. He swallowed them dry and they went down rough and slow, scraping the walls of his throat as they went down. He was able to sit up as Sinclair was led to one of the remaining operational consoles in the room.

  A chime sounded, but no holoprojection appeared.

  “Commander Dorn,” Sinclair said, “I surrender.”

  “Stop the transmission,” Dorn ordered.

  Sinclair pushed another button.

  “Stand down your troops.”

  Francis looked at him questioningly and Sinclair simply nodded at him.

  “In work,” Sinclair reported.

  “Troops will be on the ground shortly to secure the facility. If we detect any resumption of hostilities, I will grind you into dust.”

  The transmission was ended, but Sinclair continued to work at the console. Francis fetched Sinclair a chair to sit in and a fresh lab coat. Under normal circumstances, putting any clothing over those wounds would be pure agony, but Max knew that the shot he had just given Sinclair was inhibiting any pain. He could go over and cut the old man’s finger off and he wouldn’t feel a thing. He was tempted to do just that.

  Max got up from the floor with a grunt and a helping hand from Eleanor.

  “What now?” She asked. Max shrugged.

  With the Doctor taken care of, Francis set off again. Max looked out the gaping hole that was once the observation window and saw the creatures filing in. Francis was shepherding them into their ranks and the creatures bobbed into place.

  After an extra moment of uncomfortable silence, Sinclair swiveled his chair toward Max and extended his hand. Resting in his palm was Nick’s data crystal.

  “Take this, Max,” Sinclair said with
a harsh rasp, “And get off this world.”

  Max looked at Sinclair skeptically.

  “What is it?”

  “This is all of my data, all of my research, all of the results from my experiments. This is everything you need to recreate my discoveries, my inventions. This must stay out of the hands of the Republic… the Conglomerate. Your friend was right; I will not serve them.”

  Max slowly picked up the crystal from Sinclair’s palm and held it up, looking at the light gleam off its surface.

  “This is a little bit like giving a dog a spaceship, Doctor. Not sure what I can do with this.”

  “What you do with it is up to you. Just don’t let it fall into their hands. Now, get out of here. There are two operational ships on the pad. Take one and go. You’ve probably only got 20 minutes or so before more troops arrive.”

  Max put the crystal in a pocket of his coveralls and started to turn toward the exit.

  “There’s one more thing, Max,” Sinclair said, “My ships are…different. Once you reach orbit, enter your destination. The ship will take care of the rest.”

  Max nodded, took another step, and stopped again.

  “Do something for me, Doc,” Max said, “Send a message to Resurrection. I’ll take anyone who’s willing to leave, but they need to be ready to go in the next hour.”

  Sinclair nodded. Max hesitated and looked around the room. He opened his mouth to speak but nothing came out. He had no witty remark for this occasion. Instead, he turned his attention back to Nick. He knelt back down beside the young man and put his hand on his friend’s forehead.

  “I’m proud of you, Nick,” he whispered, “You were a hero today. I’m sorry, though. Sorry I didn’t do better by you.”

  He hated to leave Nick’s body, but he had no choice. Max stood up, grabbed Eleanor’s hand, and the two of them ran from the room. He wiped his eyes on his sleeve as he left the room.

  ***

  Chapter 14

  As Max and Eleanor ran from the open hangar door, Max skidded to a halt. Seeing the carnage on the monitors was horrifying, but seeing it in person was absolutely devastating. His knees weakened at the sight of the death and destruction that covered the once pristine landing pad. Max had to blink back more tears as he tried to figure out what to do.

  He looked at his wrist computer and picked out the locations of the two operational ships. Before he took one, he had to make one last stop. Max ran to the Hannah, which was now a hole-ridden wreck on the pad. The cargo section had been completely pulverized with more than a dozen holes in the hull. Somewhere in the fighting, the cockpit was completely disintegrated. Max could look right down the central corridor from where he stood.

  Max ran his hand along the hull; she would be missed.

  The entry ramp was down and Max quickly scrambled up the ramp to his quarters. His bag was still on the floor of his room which was more or less intact. He took one last look around, grabbed his bag, and left.

  Max bounded down the corridor and noticed Reggie crumpled in a heap next to his charging station. He knelt down beside the robot and pushed his thumb to the power-on control switch. Reggie’s eyes immediately lit up.

  “Hello, sir,” Reggie said, “I didn’t think I’d see you again.”

  “Same here,” Max said, “Can you walk?”

  “I believe so, sir,” Reggie responded, “Though don’t ask me to carry anything. The hydraulics in my arms are shot.”

  Max smiled. “That’s okay, Reggie. But we do need to get the hell out of here.”

  Max helped the robot up and got blue fluid from the robot’s damaged arm all over his hands. A moment later, they left the Hannah for the final time. Eleanor beamed at Reggie as he emerged from the ship. She ran over and gave the robot a hug, getting a coating of the leaking fluid on her arms.

  “Where is Nick?” Reggie asked.

  Max grimaced. “I’ll fill you in on the way.”

  ***

  Five minutes later, Max powered up one of Sinclair’s sleek shuttles and was on his way back to Resurrection. Max turned the ship to the east and headed for the coast. He checked the ship’s radar and saw that the second shuttle, piloted by Reggie, had also lifted off. Max instinctively reached to his right to open a comm. channel, but of course it wasn’t there.

  He had to look around the displays on his console for a moment before he found the right control.

  “How’s the ship, Reggie?”

  “Operating within parameters,” the robot responded, “This ship is…interesting. I’m trying to go through some of the code now, but it is safe to say the Doctor Sinclair has designed some of these systems himself.”

  “Well, you can give me a rundown later,” Max said, “For now, let’s get in and out of Resurrection as quickly as we can.”

  Dust’s sun was low over the horizon; night would be upon them soon.

  ***

  An hour after the battalion of Republic Commandos arrived at the Sinclair stronghold, the unit captain sent a message back to the Republic flagship. The facility was secure. The creatures were sitting dormant inside the hangar facility; their cybernetic brains had been powered down. They still made the troops nervous though and two squads stood watch over the creatures.

  Sinclair didn’t blame them. If he had his druthers, he would have reactivated them here and now and then let the creatures feast on these men. But Sinclair knew he would be dead before his hand left the face of his wrist computer. Then the Republic would seize everything he had ever developed and hand it over to the Conglomerate.

  So Sinclair lay patiently on his stomach in a makeshift medical tent while a medic tended to his wounds. He listened as reports from soldiers flooded back to the captain. Their scans revealed no activity, no fail-safes ready to engage.

  Sinclair listened as this was radioed in to the flagship and then he heard the report that the Conglomerate shuttle had been dispatched. Henry Papagous would be on-station soon. He and his team were to have full access to the facility.

  Henry’s small shuttle touched down on the pad and Sinclair watched as the overconfident ass puffed his chest out and marched down the entry ramp like a conquering hero. Sinclair tried to sit up, but the Republic medic refused to let him.

  “Doctor,” Henry said with a smile and a nod, “Thank you for being reasonable about this. I think we can make this situation beneficial for both of us.”

  Sinclair simply nodded. Henry looked over at Francis and recoiled ever-so-slightly at his gray, waxy complexion and wandering, robotic eye. Francis sneered. Henry’s confident expression wavered and he quickly looked back to Sinclair.

  “Your son fought well today.”

  “Yes, my son,” Aldous said, “As did yours.”

  Henry nodded. “And where is he?”

  “He is dead,” Sinclair said, “His body is in my control room off the main hangar. If you need to visit with him…”

  Henry waved him off and said, “No, that’s okay. My son and I have had our issues as you could tell. He died to me long ago.”

  Sinclair’s lip twitched slightly. He looked over at Francis, who was looking back at him with great concern.

  “My son also died long ago, Henry, but I loved him more than anything in the galaxy. I didn’t want to let him die.”

  Henry smiled politely. “Yes, well…”

  “I wonder, Henry, if my wife and I had had another child, would I have felt the need to do this. No child can replace another, but we would have still had our sense of family.”

  “It is an interesting philosophical debate,” Henry said. His impatience was palpable.

  “I think, Henry,” Aldous said, “That you deserve this more than I do. Francis, end protocol.”

  At the command, Francis’ eyes closed. A moment later, an electronic squeal erupted around the facility. The Republic troops brought their weapons to bear. Henry started looking around in a panic. A second later, the ground beneath them softened, turning from a hard, black surface to an oi
ly ooze in which they all - Sinclair, Henry, Francis, the Republic Commandos, and all of Aldous’s creations - started to sink.

  Sinclair looked up again at Francis and said, “I love you, son.”

  Henry tried to take a step back towards his shuttle and noticed that the bottom of his boot had liquefied. A second later, Henry felt an excruciating burning sensation on the bottoms of his feet. Then he heard a loud metallic shriek as the foot of the landing strut for his craft was eaten off and the ship tilted backward.

  Henry screamed shrilly as nanites ate through his feet. The screams of the other men joined him. Moments later, the screech of collapsing metal was heard as the structural integrity of the hangar was compromised. The screech of metal was soon eclipsed by the roar of a landslide as the mountain collapsed on top of them.

  ***

  Max sat at the console in his new shuttle, poring over data. He had already calculated the exact moment in time that they needed to lift off in order to give them the best chance of escape. Reggie had been able to extract orbital data on the Republic fleet from Sinclair’s remaining satellites. They needed any advantage they could get to give them the best chance of reaching orbit and heading to freedom without Republic interference.

  In the reflection off the white glass top of his console, he could see Sharon standing in the hatchway. She stood there silently for a moment, arms folded across her chest, while he continued to work. She looked at him with cautious, weary gratefulness.

  Sharon and Hannah had been at the front of the crowd when he landed in the little alcove on the coast. Doctor Sinclair had followed through on Max’s last request; he sent the evacuation alarm to Resurrection, initiating a decades old protocol that hadn’t been practiced in years. The message was simple - the Republic was invading, get out while you can.

  Max was originally worried that he would have to turn thousands of people away, but much to his disappointment, there were maybe a hundred people ready to leave.