by Rob Dearsley
Hands on his face, then Arland’s voice. “Sir. Sir! Dannage.”
He was alive, whole and he was Michael Dannage. He opened his eyes to find Arland’s honey coloured one's inches from his own.
“I’m good,” he lied between ragged breaths even as his eyes blurred. “Stars, I don’t know. I – I felt it die.”
Arland moved away toward a familiar dark-skinned woman. “I’m sorry.”
“Is she-?” he asked, pushing himself to his feet. He wobbled but stayed upright.
Arland helped the woman to stand. “Bleeding is slowing. We need to get out of here and seal the room.”
The rush of air escaping through the ruined ceiling whipped his dark curls around his face. Right, they needed to get gone. He moved to take the woman’s other side.
What in all the hells?
Donna – Craven’s bloody bodyguard – looked up at him. He took an instinctive step back, nerves rising again. She’d almost killed Arland. She…
She’d saved them and almost died doing it.
Her eyes looked so different from the last time he’d seen her, in the basement lab. Her face, although drawn tight with pain, lacked the incoherent rage. She looked almost human.
He awkwardly shouldered Donna’s other arm and they pushed their way through the damaged door. He and Arland deposited Donna in the Hallway and threw themselves against the door until it closed, sealing the wrecked bay.
Dannage’s ears rang in the sudden silence. He leaned back against the door breathing and enjoying the quiet. Arland leaned her head onto his shoulder. The quiet both in the station around him and in his own mind was heady bliss. He felt all floaty, like his arms and legs were too far away. Everything felt distant, apart from Arland. He slipped an arm around her shoulders, holding her close.
“I missed you,” he whispered into her hair.
“Don’t worry,” she murmured. “Your aim will improve.”
He laughed and once he started, he couldn’t stop. He was alive and had Arland, everything was perfect.
Running footsteps interrupted the moment, breaking it apart like spun glass. Craven and Aarav hurried toward them, Craven in the lead carrying a green medical kit, Aarav practically hanging onto his coat-tails like a scared child.
“Donna.” Craven dropped down next to his former bodyguard, probing his shoulder. “What happened?”
She smiled up at him. “I fought the Turned. I won.”
Dannage laughed again. “You and I have very different ideas about winning.”
She shrugged, then winced. “It’s dead. I’m not. I win.”
Well, Dannage couldn’t really argue with that logic.
Craven knelt to fuss with her shoulder wound, pulling medical supplies from a green bag slung over his shoulder.
The softer voice. The serenity in her eyes. This was a far cry from the woman Dannage had first met.
Behind Craven, Aarav wrung his hands.
“What are you guys doing here? I thought I told you to stay put,” Dannage asked Aarav, more than anything, just to get him to calm down and focus.
“Mr Craven was watching on the scanners and said it was dead and we should come help you guys,” Aarav explained, his words tripping over each other in their haste.
“What about the lockdown?” Arland asked, pushing up from Dannage’s shoulder.
Before anyone could answer a quartet of heavily armed and armoured troopers rushed down the corridor. The matte-black of their hard-shell was connected by the thick bars of a power assist exoskeleton. Dark helmets covered their faces, rendering them anonymous automatons. Digitigrade leg extensions added a foot to their height and gave them a fluid, bouncy, gait.
Luc and Rutter pushed their ways past the armoured figures.
“Cap’n,” Luc said, offering Dannage a hand. “Damn good to see you made it through.”
He took the offered hand and was yanked to his feet and into a brief hug.
“Jax, the Folly?” Dannage asked when he could breathe again.
“Folly’s in the hanger. Jax is fine, probably doesn’t even know what’s going on,” Luc replied.
Overhead speakers popped making Dannage jump. “I resent that,” Jax voice filtered through. “I hacked Garrison when it was fully operational, you think I can’t get back in now?”
Dannage started laughing again. His eyes tripping between Luc, Arland, and Vaughn, who was still behind the armoured figures. They were all here and all safe. His crew were together and safe. It was all he wanted.
Terran voices intruded on the periphery of his mind. Run. Hide. Vector five one seven.
He knew it was too good to last.
“What do you want us to do, Boss,” another member of Arland’s team, the sniper, asked, gesturing to Craven and Donna.
“Donna saved us,” Dannage said, stepping between them.
“You will escort Mr Craven and the subject to medical.” Outterbridge pushed his way through the group. “After that, return them to their quarters.”
The sniper opened his mouth to reply when Rutter jabbed him with an elbow. “Just do it,” Rutter ordered. “Take Fyffe and get them seen to.”
Outterbridge glared after Craven and Donna as they were led away before shifting his ire to Dannage and Arland.
“You killed it. You destroyed a priceless specimen.”
Dannage was fed up to the back teeth with this Stars-damn muppet. He should throw the ass-hat in with a Turned and see how he did.
Memories of flesh tearing and bone snapping beneath his hands flashed through Dannage’s mind. No one deserved that, not even Outterbridge.
“It was it or us,” Arland snapped from beside Dannage. “What would you have had us do? Let it kill us? I thought Dannage was an asset?”
Outterbridge bristled. “If you hadn’t gone off all cavalier, we could have locked down and evacuated the station.”
“That’s crap. The local lockdown didn’t hold it.”
“I don’t know why I’m explaining myself to you, Commander.”
Rending flesh. Panicked expressions, the terror of imminent, violent death. He could see them all. All the Turned’s victims.
“twenty-four,” Dannage said, quietly, he hadn’t realised he’s spoken until Arland and Outterbridge paused their argument to look at him.
“What?” the Admiral said.
“twenty-four people. The Turned killed fourteen people, half the population of the station. It would have been more if not for Donna.”
That shut Outterbridge up.
Twelve
(Liberty Station, Nowhere)
Lloyd leaned against the medical department’s reception desk, flicking through his book. The bookmark had fallen out and now he couldn’t find his place. Admiral Niels’s aid, Jenna, was being seen to by the medics. Poor girl had taken a couple of good hits during the protest, but she’d be alright. Hard as old boots, as his mum used to say.
Slater was with the Admiral. Somehow the pair of them were now playing sheepdog for Niels and his aide.
One of the green-clad nurses came from the treatment area, his hair cut military short.
“Is she okay?” Lloyd asked, giving up on his book and slipping it into a jacket pocket.
“She’ll be fine. Just needs to watch for signs of concussion. You can go through if you like.”
Lloyd thanked the man and slipped through the frosted doors into the main ward. A quick glance down the ranks of mostly empty cubicles located the young woman, already climbing off her bed.
“Hey,” Lloyd greeted her.
She shot him a brief smile and tapped at something on her flex. “How’s the Admiral doing?”
“Last I heard he was waiting to address the Senate,” Lloyd said. He liked her. She had a disarming sort of charm. But she’d been quick enough to jump into action. Was the niceness just an affectation? A way to get people’s guards down?
With a practised flick she turned the flex off and folded it into her trouser pocket. “I
should get back to him.”
“The medics say you could go?” Lloyd already knew the answer but he wanted to see her reaction. He still didn’t feel like he had a read on her.
“I’m fine,” she replied and started toward the door. “I should get back before the Admiral goes in.”
While Lloyd was sure the elderly admiral would appreciate the backup, her intensity still struck him as odd. Maybe she was just like this all the time. But still…
He fell in beside her as they started own one of the spoke hallways heading toward the centre of the station. “Why are you here?”
“I took a rock to the head. You were there.”
“No. I mean Nowhere. Why you two?” Lloyd pressed.
“The SDF wants to end the hostilities.”
“They could leave,” Lloyd suggested, they were out of the medical facility and walking along the shallow curve one of Liberty Station’s man corridors.
“You mean the incorporation plan?” She laughed. “Not going to happen. Not before the stars burn out. Besides, if you cut yourselves completely off you could miss out on something big.”
Lloyd stopped, frowning. “You’ve got something planned? I mean the SDF. There’s something going down and you want us in on it.” How’s that deduction for you?
Jenna turned to face him. “I really can’t say more. But yes. This could be massive. Game-changing. But only if you lot can get your act together long enough to cut a deal with the SDF.”
She couldn’t just leave him hanging like this. It wasn’t fair. Now Lloyd was even more curious about what they were planning. Dollars to doughnuts – whatever that meant – it was something Terran. But why would they need Nowhere on side?
The space? They had that in spades, out here lost between the stars. Or, was that it? They wanted somewhere out of the way if things went wrong?
“I can see you thinking,” Jenna interrupted him. “And it’s not what you’re thinking. We’re not looking to unleash something we can’t handle on Nowhere.” With that, she started down the corridor again.
“Fine.” Lloyd trotted to catch up. “What is it then?”
She quickened her pace. What was it with everyone storming off on him? “It’s more than my job’s worth. Sorry. Quicker we get to the Senate chamber, the sooner you’re likely to find out.”
◊◊
Dannage stood on the upper level of the Feynman’s bridge. Below him, semi-circular ranks consoles radiated out toward the full-height screens that dominated the front wall. They currently showed the optical feeds of the sprawling network of stations. Callouts highlighted various parts of the complex, including the old Garrison and Terran ship that had been converted into Hale’s quarters. Status feeds ran down the edge of the screen.
Behind him, Arland, Rossini, Luc and Vaughn stood around a holographic table display, Aarav talked with an SDF tech off to one side. Dannage and Luc had used something similar to map the Terrans’ movements. It had led them here. Everything he’d done had led them here. To this mess.
“Captain,” Rossini leaned against the railing beside him, folding her arms. “I’m sorry about what happened. If I’d known they were letting Craven experiment on you…”
“You’d still have had to do it. Orders and all that crap.”
Rossini let out a frustrated breath tightening her jaw. “Yes. But I could have warned you. Or… I don’t know.”
“It’s okay. I understand, and I don’t blame you. I blame Admiral Ass-hat and his buddies.”
“You’ll have to be more specific there.” Rossini pushed off the rail, clapping him on the shoulder. “Come on, Admiralty’s on the line. You might even get an apology.”
She was an optimist. It was almost sweet. Dannage shook his head, but turned away from the watch pit and followed her back to the holographic table, and then past it to a coms console set in the back wall.
The display screen flicked from the star-speckled blue of the SDF logo to the stern faces of a trio of starched rigid admirals. The three men sat around a small table; their hands clasped in front of them.
The middle one leaned forward. “Mr Dannage, we regret the way you have been treated by Admiral Outterbridge. It was never our intention to experiment on you against your will. For the time being, Captain Rossini has been charged with your care.” The Admiral’s statement seemed carefully worded and overly rehearsed. Not necessarily disingenuous, but curated to say nothing. Very political.
“What about Outterbridge and Craven?” Dannage asked, leaning toward the com pickup.
“Mr Craven has been moved back to secure quarters. And Admiral Outterbridge will be punished for his actions. Again, we regret what’s happened here and hope you will choose to continue to help us. However, if you want to leave Captain Rossini will escort you to a colonised system.”
The screen clicked off, leaving Dannage and the others looking at their reflections.
“I can’t help but notice they didn’t actually apologise,” Arland said, placing a hand on Dannage’s shoulder.
Dannage thought back on the man’s overly-polished words. Arland was right. Typical, to apologise would mean admitting they’d made a mistake and, frankly, the heat-death of the universe was likely to happen before that.
“Ball’s in your court, Captain,” Rossini said. “If you stay to help, you’ll stay on the Feynman.”
“Cap’n, your head still needs fixing,” Luc said from behind them.
Vaughn and Aarav looked pensive, the desire for Dannage to stay painted across Vaughn’s face. Arland gave him a half smile. She’d follow his lead; she’d follow him to the ends of the universe. But he could tell she was worried.
It wasn’t really his decision anymore. His damn life wasn’t his own to spend. Both out here and in his own head.
Screw it. He pulled away from Arland’s outstretched hand and walked away from his friends to look out over the watch pit. Whispers still buzzed in the periphery of his awareness. Screw them all, the Terrans, the SDF, all of them.
Below him, SDF junior officers worked their stations. Each one a small part of something bigger, just doing their little job. But together they made this massive ship run. Humans working together had ascended to the stars. Leapt into the endless night carrying their light – and their darkness – with them.
Dannage scrubbed his hands over his face. He was stalling and he knew it.
The sharp rap of footsteps, then Arland’s hand fell on his shoulder. He covered it with his own and looked down. Love and concern mingling in her honey coloured eyes. There had never been a decision. Not really.
“What’s the plan, sir?” she asked, quietly.
He looked up at the others. “So, there is a plan to fix my head, right?”
Vaughn looked down at his flex.
“Miss Hale would be best placed to know,” Aarav said. “If the Terrans experienced something similar. They must have had a way to deal with it.”
“It’s as good a place to start as any,” Rossini said. “I’ll arrange for you to visit with Hale again.”
Visit Hale in her gilded cage. Locked up. After everything she’d done, everything she’d lost, it didn’t seem fair.
“No.” Everyone stopped to look at Dannage. “Bring Hale here.” He had no qualms leaning on the SDF. After everything they’d done to him, this was the least they could do. The least they deserved.
“Captain,” Rossini said. “We have limited political capital here. Are you sure this is what you want to spend it on?”
Dannage met her dark eyes, searching their depths for the right answer. He wanted to help Hale. After everything, she was as much a part of his crew as the rest of them. “Do it.”
“Okay.” Rossini started toward the communications station.
◊◊
Like everything else on the Feynman, the briefing room was on the large side. The subdued lighting reflected off the polished table top. Dannage leaned against the back of the chair, restless. The Terran voices were get
ting louder, closer. They crowded his thoughts. He could ignore them if he had something to focus on, but not now with his mind wandering.
Waiting was the worst part. Rossini had arranged for one of the Feynman’s transports to pick Hale up from her little prison. She was on her way over now. Dannage had wanted to take the Folly or at least wait on the flight deck. Rossini had nixed the idea, said it was better for him to wait in the meeting room with the others.
On the far side of the table, Vaughn and Aarav talked in hushed tones, pouring over Aarav’s flex. Luc and Arland sat next to Dannage. They’d tried talking but soon left him to his thoughts. His or the Terrans.
Maybe he should just give in to it, let it wash him away, empty him out. Would it really be so bad?
As if knowing his thoughts, Arland pushed up, the harsh scraping of chare-legs on metal drawing his attention. She reached out for him, her hands soft and warm against his face.
The voices withdrew as he stared into her honey eyes. Stars, she was beautiful. How could he ever give up on this? Moments like this, and the shared laughter back on Garrison. They were worth fighting for. To the ends of the universe, to the ends of time.
The doors hushed open and Rossini walked in, a pair of guards in heavy armour a beat behind her, and between the guards, Hale.
“Captain Dannage, Commander Arland,” Hale greeted them smiling. “It’s good to see you again. Good to see all of you.”
Dannage returned the smile. He was glad the Terran was okay, after everything she’d done – everything she’d lost – she deserved better than this.
“Please, take a seat, Miss Hale.” Rossini gestured to one of the free chairs as she slipped into one of her own at the head of the table.
Hale swung a leg over the back of the chair and dropped into it, the metal letting out a low groan of protest. “Why am I here?” she asked, looking around.
Dannage pulled away from Arland and took his own seat, leaning forward over his clasped hands. “I need to get these voices out of my head.”
Vaughn tapped his flex and Dannage’s brain scan – at least he assumed it was his – popped up on the screen that dominated the far wall. His head writ large and in full technicolour.
