Breaking Point

by David Alastair Hayden

  “What?!”

  "Sir…you were on ice too long. The cryo-sleep unit they stored you in was only meant for transporting mortally wounded soldiers from the battlefield to a hospital. The special forces unit didn't intend to leave you in that underground bunker for more than a few weeks, but after the Tekk Plague struck, they never received further orders. So they left you there when they withdrew, not giving any thought to what it meant for you."

  A pit formed in Siv’s stomach. “How long could the unit store someone safely?”

  “According to simulations, twenty years. But no actual tests went past five.”

  The pit expanded. “Then how did I survive?”

  “When, after four years, I was unable to contact anyone who could rescue us, I had a decision to make. I could help you pass away peacefully, or I could take a gamble.”

  “Obviously, you took the gamble.”

  “I considered otherwise, sir. I truly did. But you were Gav’s legacy and the only one I knew I could trust if we ever made it back into the world. So I hacked into the cryo unit and tweaked the system’s programming in an attempt to keep you alive longer. Unfortunately, there was a cost for doing that.”

  “You couldn’t free me because of the manual locking mechanism. You didn’t lie about that, right?”

  "I did not, sir. If you could have gotten free, we could have gotten out of there, and our lives would have been very different."

  “And the cost to me was?”

  “Permanent neurological damage.”

  Siv reconsidered those first few months after being thawed. “I remember being sick and disoriented, frightened and upset. I thought that was all normal, though, given how long I’d been in cryo and having seen my father murdered, only to wake up in a new world.”

  "Sir, you aren't supposed to be so weak or disoriented after being thawed. The aftereffects someone normally suffers pass after a few hours, a day at most. The truth, sir, is that you were dying."

  “Dying?” The contents of his stomach threatened to surge up into his throat. “Then how did I survive?”

  “The Shadowslip fought to keep you alive. Their doctors did what they could with gene therapy, based on my instructions. When that wasn’t enough, they injected you with ten medibot doses over the course of ten days. Only then did you stabilize.”

  “I don’t remember any of that.”

  “Unfortunately, the medibots and gene therapies could only do so much in an age of declining medical technology. Just to stay alive, you would likely have needed three full medibot injections weekly for the rest of your life. At several thousand credits per dose, the Shadowslip could not afford that.

  “Seeing no real progress in your condition, Big Boss D decided to give you Kompel, despite me begging him not to and the Shadowslip doctors advising against it. He was hoping he could use it to make you transfer the DNA access codes to him.”

  “Now that I do remember. I told him to go to hell and that I’d rather die than give him ownership of Dad’s equipment.”

  "I have never been more proud of you than at that moment, sir. You were only ten, and you told him what's what despite the threat of Kompel and painful death. He decided to wait you out, to see what you'd do when the withdrawal pains and cravings started. But still, you held on. Only when you were nearly dead did he give you another dose of Kompel, hoping another round would change your mind."

  “I started getting better after that, didn’t I? I remember getting my strength back after the second time he gave it to me.”

  “There’s a reason for that, sir. The Kompel countered the damage the cryo-sleep had caused. As you grew, thanks to the Kompel, your neurological system steadily improved. But not so much that you didn’t need it to survive. Apparently, the disease Kompel causes isn’t that much different from the damage you suffered from extended cryo. The compounds in Kompel counter the neurological damage and keep you alive.”

  Siv choked back vomit. He knew Silky was telling him the truth, but he struggled to believe it.

  “Why didn’t you tell me?!”

  “Actually, sir, I did. In fact, this is the second time I have told you.”

  “How the hell is that possible?”

  “Sir, you didn’t want to know any of it, so you used the Eraser in Bei.”

  Erasers were advanced brainwave stations used to wipe away unpleasant memories. And Ekaran IV was fortunate to have a single station that had survived the Tekk Plague.

  To use the Eraser, you sat in the system chair with electrodes connected to your head. Then you focused on the memory you wanted to wipe. When you were ready, you pressed a button and zapped away the memory with a powerful magnetic pulse.

  Using an Eraser was incredibly risky. Any stray memories entering your mind when you triggered the process would be wiped as well. And sometimes the Eraser didn’t get things just right. It might leave some of the memory you wanted to get rid of, or it might wipe away memories you had wanted to preserve.

  “I had my memory of this neurological damage wiped away?” Siv asked incredulously.

  "Twice, sir. And I can show you the video of it happening if you like."

  Silky loaded a video into Siv’s HUD, but after twenty seconds, Siv blinked it away.

  “I don’t get it. Why would I want to forget?”

  “You didn’t want to be dependent on the Kompel, sir. And you were miserable knowing you’d need it all your life, making you dependent on the Shadowslip or some other supplier just to live. You hated that.”

  “Another supplier? I’d need the Shadowslip strain, though. Right?”

  “Sir, not having the Shadowslip strain would cause you some problems in the short term, but not in the long term, and those problems would pale in comparison to what you’re dealing with now. You could have dealt with that part.”

  “So I could have used the Outworld Ranger to go out into the galaxy and find some myself.”

  "That's a whole other issue, sir. And it's not like the Shadowslip were going to let you walk away without coming after you. Before the second memory wipe, you did consider running away, though obviously, you didn't know about the Outworld Ranger.”

  “I still don’t understand why I would want to forget. Sure, I knew I was dependent on it, but why would I be so desperate to forget? Wouldn’t it be better to accept my fate?”

  “And to always know you’d be dependent, with no hope for a better life? It was my suggestion the first time, sir, because of how miserable you were. I thought if you had the illusion of hope that it would keep your spirits up and drive you to keep going, to build toward a future where you could purchase your independence. And it worked brilliantly.”

  “So I must have figured it out.”

  "You did, sir. And you were mad at yourself and at me. But then after a while, you wanted to forget again. You went back to the Eraser and gave me strict instructions only to tell you the truth once you finally earned your freedom."

  “And you didn’t think to tell me when freedom was forced on me a few days ago? I could have taken the Kompel that Zetta tempted me with.”

  “Sir, you have control over your withdrawal symptoms right now thanks to a considerable amount of willpower, and Octavian’s treatments have reduced the impact of your neurological damage for now. You should only take the Kompel once you have no other choice. And that day will come sooner rather than later.

  “It’s better to hold onto Zetta’s Kompel until you absolutely have to use it. Once we get through all of this nonsense, we can find a supplier of normal Kompel, maybe even figure out how it’s made and synthesize a type to specifically address your needs. It’s best to break free from the Shadowslip strain first.”

  “Assuming I take Kompel regularly and get as many medibot treatments as I can afford, how long do I have?”

  “I was afraid you would ask that, sir. According to all the doctors we consulted, your max age is roughly forty, and your ability to function normally will begin to decline at th
irty, Kompel or not.”

  Siv closed his eyes and fought back tears. He was nearly twenty years old. He might only have twenty more tops, and just eleven more good ones…

  Anger suddenly swelled within him then faded to despair, only to be countered by anger again. He was furious at Silky for not telling him and at himself for using the Eraser. Most of all, he was bitter at his fate.

  The shining city was no longer directly below them, and they had descended halfway to the ground. As far as they could tell, no one had spotted them. Certainly not Kaleeb, who could’ve shot them down if he wanted. Once they hit the ground, they were going to have to find shelter and stay low for the rest of the night.

  They were always on the run now, with so much arrayed against them that it seemed hopeless. Their enemies would never stop chasing them. There was no light at the end of this tunnel. It all seemed so…hopeless, so futile.

  He smiled faintly and shook his head. It wasn't futile. He had something to fight for, something meaningful, something that could change the fate of the entire galaxy if they succeeded. And he needed that purpose to keep going. He needed to know that his desperate actions would have meaning. That he had survived to this point and had suffered all this for a reason.

  "Silkster…I get it. I needed hope, something to keep fighting for. I needed a purpose, and the truth would have taken that away. You made the call you thought wisest. I know you had my best interest at heart."

  “Thank you, sir.”

  Mitsuki banked, adjusting their course, aiming them toward a small town. “You’ve been quiet, Sivvy.”

  “Tell her all of it, Silkster.”

  A few minutes later, Mitsuki leaned her head forward and kissed him on the cheek.

  “You’re one cursed bastard.”

  Siv laughed. “Tell me about it.”

  “We’ll get you through this, Sivvy.”

  For a few moments, she rolled onto her back, giving them a full view of the night sky. The string of tiny golden moons glistened above them.

  She sighed and rolled back over to adjust their course. “It’s beautiful here.”

  Ten minutes later, they touched down in the courtyard of a manor house Silky assured them was currently unoccupied. As Mitsuki disconnected the harness, Siv stared up at the brilliant sky, admiring the stars and the moons.

  It was a beautiful place for things to end, but he wasn’t going to die here. He refused to. The universe hadn’t taken him on this strange journey over a century away from his birth and given him these responsibilities for nothing. He pulled the ceramic guardian amulet from his bodysuit and kissed it.

  24

  Galen Vim

  For Galen, life aboard Tamzin's stranded ship was defined by complete and utter boredom, which he filled by constantly worrying about Oona and Kyralla.

  And now it was about to get worse, far worse.

  Tamzin was leaving in the morning, this world's morning. It would be midnight on Titus II. She was going to investigate ways to get him safely off-world. He had no idea how. She'd shot down all his suggestions, saying he couldn't trust anyone within the Terran Federation or the Titus II planetary government, including people he had known for years.

  She then refused to offer up any of her own ideas. He took that to mean that she didn't have any, and judging from her uncertain emotional state, that was probably accurate.

  Getting off-world—daring Tekk Reapers and bounty hunters and criminal guilds and anyone else who might be after him—was a challenge he wasn’t afraid to face. Being stranded here until he couldn’t take it anymore and walked out onto the planet without a spacesuit…that terrified him.

  Especially since it wouldn’t take many weeks here alone before he reached that point. He may have avoided chippy panic at the beginning of all this since he’d been too busy trying not to give up his daughters to the Tekk Reapers and then running for his life. But without anyone to talk to and no access to information or entertainment, he knew he’d go a different kind of crazy before too long.

  He was also worried about Tamzin. What if the Tekk Reapers were lying in wait for her back in the tunnels or near Capital City? They wouldn’t hesitate to torture her for information. And then they’d kill her and harvest her organs, whether she revealed anything to them or not.

  Despite her eccentric quirks, he’d grown to like Tamzin. Sure, she was a mystery and might be lying about her motives. But she had saved him despite the risk to herself and then refused to turn him over. Besides, she was emotionally broken, and that tugged at his empathic senses.

  As usual, he was lounging in the command chair, fidgeting nervously with the armrests as he stared out onto the barren world. All he could see now was the starry sky. The sun had set an hour ago. But that didn’t matter. He’d been in this chair, worrying, for the last six hours, and he’d spent most of the last several days doing the same thing.

  Tamzin sauntered in, wearing a long, thin t-shirt and panties. Her hair was wet, her skin glistening. He tried not to watch her as she walked in.

  “Are you off to bed?” he asked.

  “Because the sun has set and I’ve gotten a shower?”

  Galen nodded.

  She slumped into the pilot’s chair then spun it around to face him. “Do you think I’m eighty or something like you, old man?”

  Thankfully, she crossed her legs. It was getting increasingly hard not to…admire…Tamzin’s form. Not only was she attractive in her elfin, bohemian way, but he’d also grown accustomed to her odd, non-standard Terran features.

  “I just figured you wanted to get a lot of rest before…before you leave.”

  “I’ve done nothing but rest since I brought you here, and six hours of sleep would be more than plenty for me.”

  Galen sensed that she was reluctant to go to bed. She wasn't afraid. She was…inscrutable. Often her tangled moods eluded him.

  “Do you want to talk?” he asked.

  “Don’t have nothing better to do.”

  He waited a moment then decided to see if he could crack open a few more mysteries. “When you said you first got to Titus II, what—”

  “Nope. New topic.”

  “Okay then, tell me about your—”

  Tamzin shook her head. "Enough prying into my business. Let's pry into yours. Tell me more about the prestigious ambassador Galen Vim. Where are you from? Who was your wife? How old are your kids? Why don't they travel with you? How wealthy are you? Where did you go to school? Why did you become an ambassador? What's your deepest, darkest secret? Your most pent-up desire? Your—"

  Galen threw his hands up. “That’s a lot of questions. Why don’t I take a few at a time?”

  She uncrossed her legs and leaned back. “Sure.”

  His breath caught, he tried to look away, failed, and then began stammering. She was toying with him. She enjoyed doing that. But then, there wasn’t much else to do. Admittedly, he was an easy target.

  “For starters, I’m not a prestigious ambassador. If I were, I wouldn’t be negotiating Titus II’s reentry to the Federation.”

  “That’s not a big deal?”

  “It’s not a priority. Titus II is a backwater—no offense—and it’s far from the borders with the Empire of a Thousand Worlds and the Krixis.”

  Tamzin nodded toward the window behind her. “To me, this is a backwater.”

  "This is nowhere. Anyway, this is merely the first stage of negotiations. If I can get them to the next phase, then an ambassador with real prestige and a large team of bureaucrats will replace me."

  “After you do all the initial work… How is that fair?”

  “That’s just how government works.”

  “You need a better job.”

  He shook his head, smiling. “This is my better job. As an ambassador, I can make a difference in people’s lives. I can help make the galaxy a better place. And it also gives me a chance to make connections with people who might be able to help my girls.”

  “Is that
why you became an ambassador, to make contacts?” she asked.

  He shook his head again. “I started several years before Kyralla was born. Before that, I was a trader specializing in luxury goods.”

  “And that wasn’t enjoyable?”

  “There were interesting challenges, but it wasn’t what I wanted to do. My father, grandfather, and great-grandfather were all merchants, and I was expected to join the family business. My father would accept nothing else. Especially because of my empathic ability. Like I told you before, he wouldn’t let me get tested or train because it would mean registering my ability with the government. It’s a big advantage if people you’re negotiating with don’t know you’re an empath, but when they know, it’s a hindrance.”

  “Were you good at being a merchant?”

  “I could have been great, but my heart was never in it.”

  Tamzin nodded. “I understand. That’s why I’m not a better bounty hunter. It’s just a job, you know? And I only do it enough to buy the things I need, or when I get bored. Why didn’t you tell your father to shove it?”

  “Because no one told Alton Vim to shove it. And if he had disowned me, I’d be out on the street without a penny to my name.”

  “So?”

  He chuckled. “You didn’t grow up with the privilege I did. When you have seemingly everything, you are terrified of losing it.”

  “Then I’m glad I don’t have much. How’d you finally convince him to let you do something else?”

  “He died, leaving my older brother Pashta as the head of the family. Pashta understood my heart wasn’t in business. He encouraged me to move on to something else, and he understood that anything else I did would be beneficial to him and the family anyway.”

  “There are a lot of ways you could help people aside from being a pompous government doofus.”

  He chuckled. “Maybe, but my family is influential, so I was able to rise through the ranks quickly.”

  Tamzin leaned forward and tossed her damp, pink hair around. Then she combed it back and sank into the chair. He liked her hair better when she didn’t put it into the topknot. The shaved sides didn’t do anything for him.