Echoes of Avarice

by Brendan O'Neill

  A movement at the door caught Connor’s eye. Charisma stood in the doorway, her pistol in her hand. She’d watched at least some of the fight.

  “Let her go, Connor,” Charisma said quietly. Durand had stopped resisting. She was unconscious. But not dead.

  “Let her go, NOW.” Charisma’s voice was adamant. Demanding. Connor looked at her face for a moment more then released Durand.

  They stared at each other as he climbed unsteadily to his feet, then turned to see Danielle for the first time.

  Danielle lay naked on the floor, bloody and beaten. Her once beautiful skin was covered in blood and cuts, some old, some fresh. Durand had been bleeding her from the moment she returned to the complex. Her face was so badly bruised that she was almost unrecognizable, and her jaw was almost slack. Probably broken. Her right shoulder was obviously out of socket, and both legs bent unnaturally at the shins. Charisma rushed to her friend, pulling open her medical bag.

  “Took you guys long enough,” Danielle mumbled almost incoherently. She was trying to be jovial, strong. But tears of relief were running freely. Rana was finally on her feet, stumbling a bit as she moved to assist in any way she could.

  Connor could only stand dumbfounded, unable to do anything but stare at the wrecked woman. His own tears were welling up, born from rage. A rage that he’d worked so long to conquer. Rage that had almost destroyed his life. Now it came again in a tidal wave.

  But not as a hot rage. Not a rage of passion, where someone loses control. Not the kind of rage that he wouldn’t know what he’s doing. This was a cold rage. It was unfeeling and calculating. Every though was tinged with rage, but it was also shot through with pure logic. Anger gave him strength and direction. And right now, his thoughts were directed to Durand.

  The cold dispassion was strangely liberating as he limped over to his knife and picked it up. His head swiveled to Durand. She lay on the floor, almost serene in her unconsciousness. Connor gave her back a kick. He wanted her awake.

  “Don’t Connor,” Charisma said. Her voice carried a definite warning.

  She continued to work on Danielle but glanced at him often. Rana didn’t bother to look. She didn’t need to see him to know what he was about to do. Danielle’s eyes watched him unblinking.

  Charisma’s words were like a distant voice in the wind. Connor could hear her commands to stop, but his mind was made up, and Charisma couldn’t be coddled this time. He sent an even harder kick into Durand’s back drawing a soft moan, but she still didn’t wake up.

  Charisma continued trying to reason with Connor, her warnings becoming pleas, but he was so focused on his justice that he only barely heard her. When he used his foot to roll Durand on her back and dropped onto her chest, the evil woman’s eyes shot open. Charisma began to scream her pleas, but Connor ignored her. The woman gave an inhuman moan of agony, a moan that intensified as he shifted his weight down to her lower ribs. A strange gratification flowed through him as he felt Durand’s agonized shuddering at his weight on her broken ribs. Her arms struggling pitifully against the body pinning them down.

  Connor was completely detached to the hollow echo of charisma’s desperate protests as he brought the knife down. Durand spasmed as the blade penetrated her chest just above her breastbone. The woman’s eyes started to go glassy as he pulled the blade out only to drive it back in. Moments later her body was slack, the life gone. He stabbed her three more times just to be sure. When he was done, blood caked his hands and inner thighs.

  “What did you do?” Charisma whispered in shock. She had to be prodded back to work by Rana.

  Connor didn’t feel good about the act, but neither did he feel badly. He wasn’t sure what that meant. But he was sure of the gratitude in Danielle’s eyes.

  Chapter 28:

  Of all the places on the frozen wasteland that was Zlotoff IV, Connor was in the one place that was uncomfortably hot. He dripped sweat as he kicked a small bolt down the carpeted corridor. The terraforming center they hid in was designed to run off geothermal energy and he was in the deepest bowls of the complex. Connor spent most of his time in the complex’s lower floors. It was the only place sure to be away from Charisma.

  After rescuing Danielle, he’d expected the escape from the military compound to be the easy part. Unfortunately, Charisma was forced to sedate Danielle and they had no choice but to drag her limp form through the vents. Their progress was slowed even more after the bodies were discovered. Patrols were tripled and they would never have escaped the Fleet net if not for Akshay and Jackie. The men set up an ambush and a maze of false trails that led the pursuers completely the wrong way. While the majority of the Fleet troopers combed areas west of their compound, the group fled southeast. The long march over miles of frozen terrain to the research outpost they now called home took almost two days.

  Still, all the misery he’d endured to break his Chilean friend out was like a paradise compared to the chasm that had opened between him and Charisma. The subzero temperatures outside their hideout were the tropics compared to the woman. Any time he entered a room she was in, she immediately stopped talking and often left. In areas she couldn’t afford leave like the medical bay, she kept her back to him silent as death.

  So, when Krieger sent a coded message telling them they’d have to wait for a time, Connor decided that time would be better spent down in the generator rooms. He’d found the engineering mess hall with several pantries of preserved food and appropriated one of the engineer’s quarters. Everything he needed was down there. All in all, it wasn’t a bad place to stay, even with the heat.

  His little bolt danced and its gleaming sides glittered as it bounced through his hallway. It glided through the air, flashing in the fluorescent lighting, as it flew through an open doorway. Connor’s little toy glinted like a diamond, ricocheting between the metal grating of a catwalk floor once… twice… three times before falling through the grating to the concrete floor fifty feet below.

  He stared after his lost toy in dismay. Just another thing to go wrong. Not that losing the little bolt made any real difference. He could easily find more; it was the engineering section after all. But still, Connor fixated on it. Fixated on something he lost that was solid.

  “You can always get another.”

  He turned at the voice, discovering Akshay suspended over the fifty-foot abyss in a hammock to his left. A rope was tied just loose enough from his hammock to the connecting rod of a massive piston so its motion gave his hammock a gentle sway. The big Indian looked obscenely comfortable as he rocked with an almost empty drink in his hand. Akshay grinned at Connor before sipping from the plastic cup that contained a straw, peach wedge, and a brightly colored paper umbrella.

  “Yeah, I know,” Connor said.

  “I mean, there’s a bin full of the little blighters in the workshop.”

  “Yeah, I know,” Connor said again. “Sorry to intrude.” The man loved his solitude, and Connor was starting to understand why. He turned to go when Akshay surprised him.

  “The room just to the right has another hammock like this one and a fridge full of drinks,” the Indian said, then shook his empty clear plastic cup. “While you’re getting yourself a hammock and drink, bring me a fresh one, ok?”

  Connor didn’t answer. He just collected the empty cup and walked back into the hallway. True to Akshay’s word, the door on his right led to the necessary items. Drinks in hand and hammock slung over his shoulder, Connor returned to the generator room. Akshay unfolded one of his arms from behind his head and took the offered drink. The man sipped happily from his fresh iced drink.

  “What are we drinking?” Connor asked as he strung his hammock up just to the right of the catwalk. There was a piston on his side as well, but the rocking wasn’t worth the effort. The noise wasn’t bad, he realized as he settled down, in spite of the heavy machinery. Quality engineering made Akshay’s reply rather clear.

  “Peach Margaritas.”

  “Never heard of
those,” Connor said.

  “Neither had I,” Akshay replied after taking a sip. “I found tinned peaches, peach schnapps, silver tequila, and triple sec. I just combined the alcohols, put the peach wedges from the tins in the cups and mixed in the syrup from the tins. It’s surprisingly good.”

  He was right. The concoction was sweet, but not objectionably so. They sat back, sipping their margaritas in silence and saving the peach wedge for last. He didn’t know how long they sat in silence, but Akshay went back to the fridge for the next two rounds.

  Connor was almost at the bottom of his third glass and thinking very hard about which to do first. Should he get a new round of drinks or get something to eat? Connor’s low tolerance for alcohol was even lower from lack of food. Thirst won out over hunger, and moments later they were drinking fresh margaritas.

  “You know, the heat’s not that bad once you get used to it,” Connor said. He had to fight to keep from slurring his words. For some reason, it became very important that Akshay didn’t think of him as a wimp.

  “Part of that’s the alcohol,” Akshay said. “It must be pushing 36 degrees.”

  “You’re insane!” Connor bellowed. “Its way hotter than that!” Then the tiny part of his brain that was still sober made a realization. “Wait, you mean Celsius, don’t you?”

  Akshay grinned at him. “Yup. That’s got to be in the 90s in Fahrenheit. And your right, it’s not so bad. But I think I like it because it reminds me of home. Summers get very hot there.”

  “Hotter than this?” Connor asked very slowly and carefully to make sure he didn’t slur his words.

  “A little. Summers can get up to 39 or even 40.”

  “Oh,” Connor said. “You come from India, right?”

  Akshay smiled again, this time looking at the ceiling as though seeing home as he talked. “Yup. Originally from a smallish town called Rishikesh in the Uttarakhand state. But eventually I became a hunt instructor just outside another small town called Trimbak. People came from all over the world for the sights, yoga, and rafting. Especially to look at Sri Trayambakeswar Temple. It’s the most beautiful place in the world, even if it is overrun with tourists. Or was before the invasion.”

  “Sorry about that,” Connor said. “I went all over Earth to find my televids, but somehow never made it to India. Sounds like a great place.”

  “What about you?” Akshay asked. “Where are you from?”

  “Lived in Seattle all of my young life. I left to study for my Masters and Doctorate in University of Auckland. After that, I taught at New London colony on Proxima Centauri. Washington State in the pacific northwest of the U. S. and New Zealand are two of the most beautiful places I’ve ever seen.”

  “Not New London?”

  “Na. London’s nice, but New London was a fucking hole.”

  They fell silent again, for a much longer time than last. The drinking was finished as well, although neither of them needed to voice it. Heat was just starting to make Connor’s ears ring when Akshay surprised him again.

  “How long do you think you can hide from Charisma down here?”

  Connor turned his head toward the big Indian, but the man was still staring at the ceiling. “Is it that obvious?” he asked.

  “Only to those who have eyes and ears,” Akshay said, turning his smile toward Connor. His sad smile. The man had unexpected depths. “You’re avoiding her because you don’t want to face the inevitable.”

  “I just need time.”

  “You’ve had weeks. You’re not going to feel better until you talk to her. Neither of you.”

  Connor thought about that for a moment, then spoke to the ceiling. “Why can’t I just keep avoiding her?”

  “Avoiding the only doctor we got? Good luck.”

  “What if she…” he let the sentence hang. His query could have ended a number of ways and each was a valid question. Deep down, he knew the answer to all. “I’m afraid of what will happen.”

  Akshay twisted in his hammock until he was facing Connor. “You just have to face her. Things will keep getting worse if you don’t.”

  Connor had felt the premonition nagging at the back of his head for almost a month now, and he’d done everything he could to avoid it. But Akshay was right. He couldn’t avoid Charisma any longer.

  Connor swung off his hammock onto the grated metal catwalk. “Hey, uh, I may need a place to get away after all this,” Connor said glancing at Akshay.

  “I enjoy my solitude, Connor.”

  About what he was expecting. Connor nodded and was several steps out the door when Akshay’s voice followed him. “I suppose if you’re only here for a short time and remain quiet, I wouldn’t mind the occasional company. Just don’t tell anybody about this place. I don’t want people drinking up all my alcohol!”

  Connor had to smile at that, although it didn’t last long. He was marching to end the closest relationship he’d ever been in. He thought he’d be sick.

  Charisma wasn’t in the medical bay, although Jackie and Danielle were. Jackie leaned back in a chair next to the Chilean woman, retelling one of his bawdiest stories while she tried desperately not to laugh. Danielle lay in a medical bed, both her legs still in casts. She was the first to see him enter.

  “Look who finally showed up,” she said. Jackie turned and gave Connor a big smile, but Danielle’s was gone. “I would have thought you’d show up before now.”

  “Sorry about that,” he stammered. “I’ve been …” He trailed off. Hiding like a child was embarrassing enough without admitting it. But Danielle finished his thought for him.

  “Hiding from Charisma,” she said. “Yeah, I know.” Her stern face suddenly broke with a soft smile as she pointed at Jackie. “It’s ok, he told me. I’m only messing with you. You’ve already done more for me than I could have asked.” She held out a hand, and Connor crossed the room to take it. She smiled up at him. “I hope everything works out for you.”

  “I’m sure it will!” said Jackie, springing off his chair to throw an arm around his shoulders. “She’d be crazy to let you go.” He winked at Danielle, then turned a smile on Connor. “I’ve seen you in the showers, after all.”

  Danielle chuckled at the statement, but Connor could only manage a weak smile. “I’m glad you’re feeling better,” he said to Danielle.

  “Should be out of these casts in a couple weeks,” Danielle said. “As long as the bio-plasm holds out. Krieger promised to resupply us, but nothing yet.”

  “How much more do we have?” Connor asked.

  “Less than a week. If we don’t get that supply run, I’ll be in these casts for another three months. Minimum.”

  “I’m sure it’ll be here before then,” said an uncomfortably familiar voice behind them. Every head turned to see Charisma at the doorway. She didn’t look at Connor as she emptied her armload of medical supplies into the proper cupboards. An uncomfortable silence descended upon the room. It lasted several long moments before Danielle spoke.

  “I’d leave, but I can’t,” she said rather unconvincingly then turned her eyes to Jackie.

  “You don’t expect me to miss the show, do you?” Jackie asked feigning innocence. His face split into the shit-eating grin he was known for.

  “Maybe you could help me with a load of medical supplies?” Charisma said as she walked out the door. She didn’t look at him as she spoke and didn’t have to. Connor followed behind.

  He’d meant to wait until they’d reached the privacy of the medical storage unit, but the words spilled out as soon as he reached the hallway. “Charisma, I’m sorry! I know I should have talked to you earlier, but I was worried and didn’t want to push.”

  He kept going, apologizing for everything. Not speaking with her right away, not speaking to her within a week. Not helping out with Danielle. Not sharing the televids on his memory rod since they’d arrived. Not helping out around the outpost. The more he talked, the more Charisma let him talk. She watched him silently. By the time they�
��d reached the medical storage unit, he was so flustered by her silence that he was apologizing for things he hadn’t even done.

  Charisma slapped the door control button, turning on him before it even finished closing. “Enough, Connor!” she snapped, staring at him in disbelief and cutting off his incessant babbling. “You don’t even know why I’m upset, do you?”

  He racked his brain, making delaying sounds as he considered the question. Round and round his thoughts went but the only thing he could come up with was the one thing he hadn’t apologized for.

  “Durand?” he asked.

  Charisma surprised him with a shake of her head. For the first time, Connor couldn’t read her face.

  “When I first met you,” she said, “you were a sweet, gentle idiot that made me laugh and feel safe. You were kind and fun. You shared your peanut butter and televids with me. And when we were attacked you risked your life to save me. I loved you for that. I loved you before, but I can’t even begin to describe how I felt about you after that.”

  “Then you joined the security force. I was worried that you’d get hurt, but you wanted to do it so I didn’t say anything. You needed to be the hero, and I could understand that. You were still my Connor.”

  “But after you were injured at Sanctuary, I was terrified. I had a choice between saving you or Bill, and I chose you. You were out for so very long and, even with the regen pods, we weren’t sure you’d ever completely recover. I did everything I could to save your life, and not once did you ever say thank you. Then, when you finally did come out, you pushed me away!”

  “What do you expect?” he asked quietly. “You pushed me away first.”

  Her jaw dropped. “How did I push you away?” she gasped.

  “Why didn’t you tell me about Bill?” he hissed, the old rage suddenly back. “Why did I have to learn it from two people I barely knew?”

  “Connor, we were worried that news would be too much for you,” she said. “You were in a delicate state.”