Echoes of Avarice

by Brendan O'Neill

  “Connor!” Thomas shouted while he was still half way across the huge cafeteria. As if his shout, which drew the attention of everyone in the cafeteria wasn’t enough to catch Connor’s attention, he waved his ladle overhead. Nutri-paste spattered both cafeteria workers and customers alike.

  Connor’s face reached a fresh shade of red as he scurried for Thomas in a sad attempt to subdue the man’s tantrum. He liked Thomas and the fellow was nice enough, but he always seemed to find a way to embarrass Connor. The pair met at the far corner of the counter.

  “Did you hear?” Thomas asked with a huge smile spread over his face. His excited eyes were bulging in excitement so far that it looked as though they might pop out. “A transport is expected to arrive at any minute! They say its bringing beer!”

  “Beer!” Connor breathed. Luxuries of any kind were a rarity in an underground terraforming compound. But considering supplies were almost nonexistent due to hostile alien patrols, the compound’s black market made a killing selling flavored throat lozenges as candy and moonshine.

  “Do you think they might have chocolate on board?” Connor asked.

  “Oh, I hope so,” Thomas replied. “And cheese. I’m so tired of nutri-paste. Why can’t they just port food through subspace like the stuff they use to terraform the planet?”

  Connor sighed. “I’ve told you before, it’s not possible to transport molecules in subspace. They break down to their constituent atomic parts. Only atoms can be safely transmitted.”

  “Right. It still doesn’t make sense though.” For a moment, Thomas’ face continued to be screwed up in confusion trying to puzzle out how the physics worked. But his huge smile returned in a heartbeat. “Here for dinner? We do have several delicious flavors of nutri-paste.”

  Thomas pointed at each of the four giant vats of nutri-paste in turn. “The red stuff is spaghetti, the white stuff cheese, brown is stir fry, and green is steak.”

  Connor balked. “Green? For steak?”

  “Green was the only free color they had left. Besides, it all tastes the same anyway.”

  “Yeah. Sludge.”

  The pair chuckled for a moment, before Connor remembered why he was there. “I’m watching some pre-apocalyptic televids with Charisma tonight. She told me to pick up some snacks. Have anything besides nutri-paste?”

  “Nope. This place has been picked clean for days. But I did manage to pick up something from the black market a couple of days ago. I suppose you could have the rest of it.”

  Thomas moved behind the counter and looked around as surreptitiously as possible given they were in a crowded room. He returned with his hands wrapped around a small 12-ounce plastic jar. Thomas glanced around again before handing over his prize.

  “Peanut butter!” Connor gasped in shock. He couldn’t believe his friend would give him something like this. Even with the tiny container more than half empty, Connor doubted he had anything that could be traded for this. Except, perhaps, the collection of old televids on the memory rod in his pocket. People were almost as desperate for entertainment as they were for tasty food.

  “I owe you for this,” Connor said. “More than I could repay.”

  “Shit to that. Just make a copy of that memory rod you have with all the old televids and we’re even.”

  A crestfallen look fell across Connor’s face. “I can’t. The data transfer interfaces aren’t advanced enough here. If I try, there’s a good chance my rod will be erased.” Connor felt as though he was tearing out his heart when he held out the precious peanut butter to Thomas.

  Thomas just smiled and pushed it back. “Then we’ll just watch some together sometime.” Connor smiled the biggest smile of his life at his friend. For all Thomas’ annoying qualities, he was fiercely loyal and generous.

  The two said their goodbyes, and Connor all but floated out of the commissary. Thanks to Thomas, Connor’s bad mood from earlier had died a quick death and he hummed its requiem on his way back to Charisma. The hum of the overhead lighting accompanied his melody as he strolled down the corridor.

  He was only twenty yards from Charisma’s door when a violent boom knocked Connor from his feet.

  “What the fuck…” he grunted as he pulled himself to his feet. Connor was only half way up before an even more powerful explosion drove him back to the floor again.

  Fear and confusion raging in his heart, he crawled on hands and knees towards Charisma’s door. Connor inched his way forward as more and more explosions shook the underground complex. His ears were ringing and his body ached from bouncing off the metal walls and floor.

  “Charisma!” he screamed over the cacophony. The detonations were happening so quickly now that they formed a constant rolling thunder throughout the complex.

  Rebounding off the walls and head ringing, Connor wasn’t sure just how long it took him to stagger to Charisma’s door. It was cracked open and he pushed the pad on the wall to open it fully. The door wouldn’t budge.

  “Charisma!” Connor screamed again, looking through the gap. He couldn’t see her, but he couldn’t see the entire room either. Visions of her bleeding in a corner just out of sight dominated his mind. They tore at him. The man put his hands against the door and pushed with all his might. It wouldn’t budge.

  Logic buzzed quietly in the back of his mind, telling him that there was no way for a 180-pound man to move a 300-pound door with a broken servo. But it was just a silent murmur, a whisper drowned in his mind’s panicked screaming that Charisma needed help. Connor set his feet and threw his weight against the door.

  A particularly violent explosion coincided perfectly with his desperate attempt, flinging him backward almost ten feet. Connor was vaguely aware of a sensation of flight, and something of an impact against the unforgiving cold steel floor.

  Stunned, he stared at the overhead lighting as it flickered randomly and listened to the rasping hum his hearing had degenerated into. He contemplated the flickering lights, distantly aware of the frequent vibrations that flowed through the metal floor and into his body and wondered what was happening.

  Why am I lying on this floor, and not in my bed? And what is that infernal humming? Over and over those two thoughts rambled though Connor’s befuddled mind. They were accompanied by another thought, one that wouldn’t coalesce and yet felt far more important.

  Connor laid on the vibrating floor and listened, focusing on that foggy thought. Each time it crossed it became just a little more distinct until, suddenly, it rang as clear as a bell.

  Charisma!

  Her name brought back the panic and desperation. After several failed attempts, Connor finally managed to roll onto his knees. The acrid smoke of burning electronics and wiring seeped into the hallway, burning his eyes and lungs. Charisma’s door was only a few feet away, but he ached so badly he shook.

  On hands and knees, Connor crawled back toward the semi-open portal, desperate to find Charisma. He croaked out her name out a few more times, on the despairing journey. At the door, a dim sensation of a new sound intruded upon his desperate quest to save the woman. A pair of hands grab him and pull him up into a kneeling position. Charisma’s glistening face looked down at him, framed by dripping wet hair.

  “Charisma!”

  She said something in return, but it was lost in the infernal buzzing in his ears. When he didn’t respond, she yanked him to his feet. Holding hands, they stumbled down the hall together.

  Connor slapped every door panel they passed, desperate for any kind of safety. The vision in one of his eyes started to fog over with a reddish haze, and he reached up to feel his face. His hand came away wet with blood.

  He wasn’t sure how long they scrambled through the maze of cold hallways, nor did he have any idea of where they were going. He’d lost all concept of time and direction. All Connor could do was stagger along with Charisma blindly, and hope she knew where she was going. But he had a sinking feeling deep in the pit of his stomach that she may be as lost as he.

&nb
sp; It seemed like hours that they lurched through the rocking metal labyrinth. Both were gasping for air and taking longer to gain their feet after a fall. Their bodies were close to total failure.

  The most severe explosion yet lifted them both off their feet. Charisma was ripped from his grasp, flying forward from the shock. Her body crushed into the wall, then slid to a heap on the floor. A split-second later, his own violent impact against a solid wall turned the world black.

  Chapter 2:

  Connor awoke on a cot to a raging headache, and a darkened room. The only light he could see came from a single flashlight standing on its end so the beam shone on the ceiling. Ambient light spilled throughout the rest of the room, but it was too meager for Connor to see any fine detail. Just as well. He didn’t really want to see just how injured he was.

  In all his life, Connor had never hurt this much. He tried to push himself into a seated position, and promptly fell over when his left arm buckled. His momentum carried him over the cot’s edge to smack onto the hard floor. Laying there for a moment to rebuild his strength, pain and humiliation wracking his body, he was rather glad that no one happened to be there to see that.

  With his own breathing echoing into his ear, he became dimly aware of someone else’s breathing in the room. Connor fought to his feet and looked over to see Charisma laying on a cot of her own. She rested on her back as her chest slowly rose and fell. Aching, Connor half limped, half crawled to the woman. He reached out to press a finger into the side of the woman’s neck.

  He certainly wasn’t any sort of medic, so it took him several moments of searching before he found her heartbeat, steady and slow. Not that he really needed to check her pulse anyway. He could see and hear her breathing. Connor just didn’t know what else to do. In the dim light, he could see several injuries on her, all dressed. Only then did he notice his own injuries were also dressed.

  “Hey, Charisma, wake up.” He tapped her face gently.

  She murmured incoherently for a moment before her eyes fluttered open. Charisma’s eyes were glazed for a moment before they finally focused on him.

  “Connor!” she gasped. “You’re ok! When that last explosion went off, I didn’t think we would make it. Did you carry me all the way here? Where is here anyway?” She looked around the room in confusion.

  “I don’t know. We were both knocked cold.” Connor limped over and grabbed the flashlight. “I only just woke up myself.”

  “Then we should see where we are”, Charisma said. She tried to sit up and gave a wheezing cough of pain. Falling back, she grabbing her chest, and writhed in pain.

  Connor almost tripped in his haste to reach her. He placed a soothing hand on her shoulder until she stopped writhing, then shone the light on her chest. From beneath the neckline of her shirt, a purplish-yellow bruise blossomed.

  As her coughing eased, Connor reached out and grabbed the collar of Charisma’s shirt with the tips of his fingers. He hesitated, worried that he may be about to over step his bounds. But she nodded, keeping her breathing shallow.

  The bruise was massive, spanning the entire width of her chest. He opened his mouth to speak when the door behind him hissed open. Connor’s head swiveled quickly to the dimly lit doorway with his mouth hanging open. A short, dark haired woman stood staring at the spectacle.

  “Should I come back later?”

  Connor’s mouth worked soundlessly as his mind tried to formulate a response around the whirlpool of embarrassment raging within his head. His eyes shot to Charisma, who just stared at him impassively for a moment before looking to the hand that still held up the collar of her shirt. He released the shirt and stood, stock straight, unsure of what else to do.

  “No, we’re good,” Charisma said. “Thanks. I guess you’re the one who saved us.” She held out a hand to Connor for help to her feet. But, try as he might, he was far too injured to support her weight.

  “I and my unit,” the short woman answered with the hint of an accent that was lightly flavored with Hebrew. Her athletic form shouldered past Connor. Even though Charisma outweighed her by at least fifty pounds, the soldier pulled Charisma to her feet with astounding ease.

  “I… uh… I’m Connor.”

  The new woman glanced at him as she helped Charisma limp into the corridor. “The professor from waste reclamation. I know. I’m Corporal Rana Lavi, CPF.” She turned her head to the woman leaning upon her. “And you?”

  “Charisma Adams. Thanks for the assist.” In the hallway, Charisma put a hand against the metal wall and let go of the corporal. Her legs wobbled for a moment but stayed under her. “How did you find us?”

  “The two of you were collapsed outside the airlock. We found you on our way here,” Corporal Lavi answered. “I have to go. My unit’s waiting for me on the bridge.”

  Connor’s eyes flew open. “Bridge? We’re on a ship?”

  “A military cargo ship named the Prometheus. When the Ka’Rathi found our little ant farm, Colonel Bradley ordered us to the nearest ship,” Lavi said over her shoulder as she walked away, “Staying at New Kathmandu is obviously no longer an option.”

  Connor and Charisma followed after Lavi as quickly as possible.

  “Why were the lights off back in the room? And why are they so dim in the halls?” Charisma asked glancing around the dim passage.

  “This ship’s energy stores weren’t slated for recharging for another few days, so we’re saving power wherever possible.” Lavi’s long dark ponytail swished to the side as she looked back at the two. “We would have preferred a less outdated ship, but with the Ka’Rathi dropping concussion charges, we had to take what we could find.”

  Both Connor and Charisma looked around in surprise. “So, the explosions were from a Ka’Rathi attack,” Connor stated wide eyed. “I thought they said the Ka’Rathi would never find us there.” He yawned and worked his fingers in his ears. The buzz in the background of his hearing had switched to a high-pitched ringing.

  “Whoever told you that knew nothing about the Ka’Rathi. They’re making a methodical search of anyplace they think a human can survive. Including a remote terraforming complex on a forgotten planet.” She reached back and tugged anxiously at her ponytail. “The Ka’Rathi ended their concussion barrage once they punched a hole in the compound’s second cargo bay. Emergency bulkheads are closed for the moment, but they won’t keep out a Ka’Rathi landing for long.”

  They lapsed into silence during the march to the bridge. A flash of gold from Lavi’s swinging left arm caught Connor’s attention. He had to speed up until he walked at her side, but eventually he managed to identify a Star of David medallion on her wrist.

  Connor caught Charisma’s eye and glanced at the medallion. Her eyes drew wide when she saw the golden symbol. Organized religions had all but died out as people let go of old superstitions. The few remaining believers were like ghosts… often spoken of, but rarely seen.

  Her long dark ponytail swayed hypnotically as she strode next to them, and Connor couldn’t help but steal a glance at her chest. Lavi’s breasts were smaller than Charisma’s, but in her sleeveless shirt, they were perky and hard to ignore. She wore the same ash-gray cargo pants as all CPF soldiers, and her brown sleeveless t-shirt showed arms that were lean with muscle. Connor was surprised at how quiet her footsteps were given her thick gray combat boots.

  Lavi stopped in front of an unremarkable metal door colored a rather familiar bland gray. It seemed to Connor that the designers of starships took a page from the designers of terraforming compounds. The corporal pressed a lit panel and the door hissed open revealing a room full of people.

  Various fleet personnel in their deep navy-blue uniforms were seated throughout the bridge, watching monitors, pressing buttons, and doing whatever else was necessary to maintain a ship. Encircled around a brightly lit horizontal console with an interactive surface display were several people wearing Fleet or CPF uniforms and a tall man in a Fleet captain’s uniform. Overhead lighting was ou
t, and the bridge would have been completely dark if not for illumination from various monitors in the room.

  “But how do we get out?” Connor heard a man ask as they followed the corporal inside. The speaker was a slim soldier with olive colored skin and Arabic accent. “Those are Ka’Rathi corsairs up there.”

  “Seven of them,” answered a woman in a Fleet uniform with a Russian accent. Her scowl perfectly matched her severe boyish hair and ridged posture. “We’ll be lucky to get to high orbit before they blast us into dust!”

  “What’s happening?” Charisma asked as she and Connor limped to the display console.

  “Oh, not much,” answered a soldier at the far side of the console with a smooth country accent. “Just a handful of alien ships, no escape, and imminent death.” Sarcasm pulsed through his words like a heartbeat. He would have seemed calm except for the hint anxiety that Connor thought he saw nesting deep within his hazel eyes.

  “The Ka’Rathi ships are descending to land troops,” stated the woman with the Russian accent as she looked at one of the bridge’s many monitors. “We will be overrun within twenty minutes.”

  Connor leaned on the display console. It had two large diagrams displayed, one of the ship’s layout, the other a layout of the compound. Various other small tables of information spotted the edges of the screen, most of which meant nothing to Connor.

  “Can’t you just shoot them with lancers?” Connor asked.

  “There are only nine ships here,” answered the captain with a light Japanese accent. His captain’s uniform bore the distinct white collar unique to his rank in the Fleet service. “Seven are cargo ships that don’t have lancers.”

  “What about the other two?” Charisma asked.

  “India Class light frigates. Together, they could destroy one Ka’Rathi corsair, but not seven.”

  “But lancers are just high-powered subspace generators, right?” Connor asked. “Can’t the standard subspace generators be supercharged?”