Gensch pounded on the outer door. “Knock, knock.”
“Just a second,” muttered Kerys. “My legs have quit for the day.”
Gina pulled her upright and helped her out of the airlock. “C’mon. Let’s get the hell out of these damn suits.”
22
Daddy Issues
Kerys awoke curled up on a cushioned bench by the left wall of the command room. Her eyes fluttered open to a blurry view of grey fabric blotched with dried blood. Gina had taken another couch that sat catty-corner against the south wall. She hadn’t even brushed all the glass bits away before flopping face-first and passing out. Sergeant Gensch sat at a steel table near the center rear of the room, hunched over a mug of coffee with his back to her. The rhythmic snap… snap… snap… of bullets clicking into a magazine filled in the silence. She found it oddly reassuring.
It took her brain a few minutes to dredge up the memory of being half-carried up here from the locker room by the garage. She groaned and sat up, rubbing her sore legs.
“Ugh. How long was I asleep?” She yawned, stood, and struggled to stretch. Pain in her muscles made her shiver as flashes of Corporal Guillien chasing her came back. She forced herself not to think of him standing beside her trying to play the gallant military man, showing ‘the new girl’ how to use an e-suit.
Head bowed, she lost a moment to grief with her hands clasped over her mouth. A ship is coming already. They’re here every six months. We will go home. Idle hope that a shift in the wind might’ve knocked the transmission array back online pulled her across the control room to a seat at the console.
Again, she recorded a message with the SFT client, using the two-minute video to give a detailed a summary of everything as best she understood. She held her finger over the screen, hovering millimeters from the send button.
“Come on, please…”
‹Transmit Error.›
“Damn.” Kerys scowled. “I’m going to the roof.”
Clack.
Kerys jumped at the sudden, sharp metallic noise. She twisted to her right to peer toward the source.
Sergeant Gensch’s left arm extended to the side, hand atop his sidearm where he’d set it down hard on the table.
A long, awkward silence stretched out as he remained motionless. His arm trembled.
“Sarge?” whispered Kerys.
“You should kill me.” Gensch bowed his head a little, emitting a strained grunt.
“No… Sarge… this isn’t funny.” Kerys eased herself upright.
He shook his head as if in slow motion. “I ain’t tryin’ to be humorous. Take it. That shit is in my head. S’pose I’m not as tough as I act.”
She trembled, a lump in her throat as big as if she watched a father she never had die. “I…”
Gensch chuckled. “You know I was hoping Vickers backed off. She probably would’ve kicked my ass.”
“You’re just saying that. Come on, Sarge…” Kerys took two steps closer.
Gina popped awake, yawned, and sat up. “What time is it?”
“Time to do what you gotta do.” Gensch grimaced; he seemed to be trying to pull his hand away from the gun, but it stuck as if glued. “It’s in my head. The voices. Drill Sergeant Monroe… wants to kill you. Kill everyone.”
Kerys sniffled, tears streaming out of her eyes. “No no no no no…”
Gina sucked in a breath. She snapped upright, going from dazed to petrified in an instant. Eyes wide, she stood as rigid as a statue.
“Mitchell. Secure that rifle and uphold your…” Gensch cringed, stifling a scream. He pounded his right fist on the table. “Oath. I’m… losing this one.”
“You gotta hold on,” said Kerys. “We can get to the infirmary. Maybe I can get the machine to do something…”
“Take the gun!” roared Gensch. “Now!”
Kerys rushed forward, grabbing it as well as his hand. He twisted his head to look at her, cheeks bright red, all the veins in his forehead prominent. His body shuddered. Jaw clenched, he lifted his grip away from the weapon like his arm weighed a hundred pounds. She kept holding his hand in both of hers, shaking her head.
He grasped her hand and their eyes met. In an instant, the regret of a life unlived flickered over his features. A leaden weight pressed heavy on her heart. He seemed to read the emotion on her face, and bowed his head. In a mere day or so, he’d become more of a father than she’d ever known.
“Come on, Gensch. I can’t do this without you.”
“Ngh.” He winced as if in the throes of a stomach cramp. “You can. And you gotta. Don’t get all soft on me now ’cause you think I’m your old man. I ain’t cut out for bein’ no one’s pop.”
She squeezed his hand, begging him to be okay with a stare. Her lip quivered and the room went blurry under a layer of tears. “You’re a good man. I’d be happy to call you Dad.”
Gensch started to chuckle, but wound up grunting. His head twitched in an erratic shiver as he muttered, “They’re not real” a few times before looking up at her. “Take the gun. Let me go out when I’m still me.”
Kerys reluctantly released his hand and picked up the weapon. “Please don’t make me do this….”
“Mitchell,” gurgled Gensch.
Kerys twisted her head to the right, staring at the sofas. Gina had disappeared. “S-she’s gone….”
He bounded upright into a spin, dog tags swaying from his neck. Kerys let out a yelp of surprise and almost pointed the gun at him, her hand shaking.
Gensch grabbed the weapon, and her hand, pulling the barrel to his forehead. His thick brush cut seemed much whiter against his bright red skin. “I’m losing this fight, kid. I always figured this black ball of shit planet was gonna be a one way trip for me.” He squeezed her fingers into the gun. “It’s been twenty-nine hours, but you gave me a chance to feel like―”
She tried to jump back as he screamed past a clenched jaw, but couldn’t get her hand away from his grip.
“Do… it,” he rasped, eyes bulging.
Her heart throbbed as she fingered the trigger, staring over the sights at his hair. “I…” She sobbed. “You’re….”
Seconds felt like hours. She couldn’t kill the father she wanted so badly.
Gensch snapped his head up. His veins receded, as did the redness. Something had changed in his eyes. The sense of comfort he’d once projected had gone away. Malice stared back at her.
Kerys opened her mouth to speak, but he shoved her hand, driving the gun into her jaw and knocking her backward, stumbling. Some part of him must’ve remained, as he didn’t try to take the gun away. He loomed at her, hesitating. She grabbed it in both hands, pointing the shaking weapon at his chest. Her breath came in ragged gasps.
I can’t…
He roared and rushed at her.
She screamed, darting to the right as he went by. Her escape jerked to a halt seconds later when fingers clamped around her trailing hair. Knuckles dug into her back as Gensch lifted her off her feet by a fistful of jumpsuit and hurled her airborne. She landed on the steel table, slid across it, and tumbled to the floor on the other side, taking a chair with her.
Growling, he stomped after her.
“Dammit.” She scrambled to her feet and aimed at him again. Fear overrode guilt, and she squeezed the trigger, but nothing happened. “Uhh… shit…”
Before he rounded the corner of the table, she sprinted for the door. His boots clomped behind her, his stride advancing up to a jog. At the end of the corridor, she risked a look down at the gun as she cornered left. What’s wrong with―safety! Shit!
Fumbling to disengage the safety while running as fast as her sore muscles would move her, Kerys headed for the stairwell, Gensch on her heels. When she reached the opening, she whipped her arms around to the rear intending to shoot, but he’d gotten closer than she expected. He swatted her aim aside as the gun went off, suffering a minor nip to the left shoulder, and drove his right palm into her chest. The hit knocked her ov
er and sent her sliding down the first set of stairs on her back.
Kerys fired again as soon as she came to a halt at the bottom. A spark flashed from the bulkhead next to him. He bellowed like a soldier charging the enemy line, and stormed down the stairs. She rolled to her feet, her lunge for the next section cut short by a large hand snagging her right bicep.
Screaming, she snapped her arm out and bashed him in the cheek with the handgun. He laughed, a sick, dark voice that didn’t belong to any man she knew. The Devil’s smile warped his lips a second before he flung her into the wall. She bounced away and staggered to the right, opting to flee down the stairs, having lost the nerve to shoot him.
Panic drove her to the ground floor with no particular destination in mind. After a few random turns down dark, empty corridors, she tore open a small doorway she’d never gone through before. The narrow corridor beyond reminded her of the maintenance passage where Ellen cornered her.
Second thoughts died fast when Gensch jogged around the corner, growling. With nowhere else to go, she sprinted forward, ducking to avoid a handful of low-hanging horizontal pipes. The duct bent around to the right after a short run, but turned left again after a mere four paces. She skidded to a stop in a small doorway a few seconds past the zigzag, but it led to a tiny break room with no way out. Four chairs, a little round table, and a hydra occupied the space, along with a dead man in a grey jumpsuit, who lay flat on the floor below a bloody spot on the wall where he’d evidently bashed his face until he died.
Gensch appeared at the S-bend and stared at her.
“Gah!” she yelled, whirling and firing too fast to aim. A metallic ping preceded a fleshy thump.
He stumbled, grabbing his left thigh. Reacting to pain with an angry grunt, he lunged closer.
Kerys ran. The off-kilter rhythm of his limping gait echoed in the tunnel of metal walls, making them feel tighter, narrower, more confining. Seconds later, the maintenance duct expanded into a small room with four lockers and a black metal trapdoor open over a square hole. A yellow-painted ladder led into darkness.
She jumped down, yanking the trapdoor closed mere seconds before he caught up to her. All her weight hung on four fingers, her legs floundering at the ladder as she tried to find footing. Gensch lifted the trapdoor, and her with it.
“Dammit!” she yelled. “Why?!”
Kerys raised the gun with her right hand, aiming at the expanding space between the trapdoor and the floor. As soon as they made eye contact, she hesitated a second too long. He let go of the hatch, which slammed down with a deafening clang.
The jolt broke her grip, and she fell into the blackness.
She landed on a metal catwalk with a resounding bang. The metal flexed enough under her weight to spring back and toss her airborne. The second time her back made contact with the grating, she slid off into cold water.
In a panic, she flailed, managing to slap her left hand onto the walkway hard enough to numb it, but also catch herself.
“Ow… shit.”
Holding onto something solid stalled her fear of drowning. When her body relaxed, her feet found solid ground. She stood in a neck-deep pool. It took a few seconds for her eyes to adjust to the feeble glow from weak rectangular lights every few feet on the ceiling. The underground chamber stretched far off to her left, at least two hundred meters, though the pool stopped less than a third that distance away. Constant dripping echoed off the stone walls. Even the ceiling had the silvery-grey sheen of silicon.
I’m underground…
Gensch’s loud grunt emanated from the ladder shaft, startling her. Kerys ducked under the walkway and tried to hold still despite the cold water making her shiver. She clutched the gun in both hands inches above the surface, unable make her brain accept the idea of having to shoot him.
Boots clunked on metal rungs, getting louder with each step. She squeezed the handgrip, hoping the weapon would still work after its quick bath. Since the dull red glow of the ammo counter remained, she had hope.
He’s not Gensch anymore. He’s already dead. He’s not my father.
Gensch stepped onto the walkway right above her, rattling it.
She peered up through the grating, holding her breath as he took his other foot from the ladder and set it down. He walked over her, his boot soles lifting off the grating like an army of tiny suction cups popping. She dared not twist to watch him, lest he notice her moving.
When he’d taken a dozen or so steps deeper into the chamber, she rotated to face the far end of the room, slid out from under the walkway, and aimed.
This is our drinking water. Bad idea to leave a body in it. I’ll wind up drinking more of the shit that killed him.
She bit her lip to keep from swearing aloud, shifted back under the catwalk, and followed him.
“I know she’s down here,” he whispered. “No. Do you? If y’ain’t gonna help, shut the hell up.” Two steps later, he growled. “Same to you, Lieutenant.”
Gensch whirled around. She froze, barely managing not to emit a squeal of surprise. He stood still for a four-count before resuming his trek. Neck deep in frigid water, Kerys shadowed him for the length of the reservoir. Near the far end, a continuous mechanical thrum vibrated the ground under her feet, and the source of the dripping came into view: a pair of pipes as big around as her thigh, extending about a foot down from the ceiling. Both dribbled trails of water into the pool, the flow varying between drips and small streams.
The catwalk continued beyond the western end of the reservoir, passing between two boxy metal machines that appeared to be the source of the vibration. She took advantage of the pumps’ noise and pulled herself up onto the walkway after Gensch had gone a few meters deep over solid ground.
Kerys raised the weapon in one arm, sighting over it at Gensch’s back. She teared up again, and added her left hand to steady her aim, wobbly from the cold. Step by step, she followed him into a low-ceilinged tunnel that made him stoop.
“Tricky, tricky,” muttered Gensch, stopping.
“I’m sorry.” She sniffled. “It’s not fair.”
He spun around, murder in his eyes.
Blam!
Blinding muzzle flare and a deafening report filled the underground chamber.
She fired again, unable to see anything but the flash from the first shot burned onto her retina.
Gensch let off a wheeze and hit the ground.
Her vision cleared few seconds later. Gensch clutched a hand over his chest, blood seeping between his fingers as he struggled to breathe. She crept closer, still aiming at him while crying.
The hostility in his eyes remained. She didn’t trust him not to be faking, and raised the weapon for a head shot.
His face sharpened in her perception as the gunsights blurred. The expression seemed more like the old Sergeant Gensch. She gasped and lowered her aim.
“For the record, Lieutenant…” Gensch coughed up blood. “You can take that court martial, and stuff it up your ass.”
She sniffled. “You got court martialed?”
“Nah.” He groaned, pushing himself into a seated position against the wall. “Bastard’s sayin’ he’s gonna court martial me if I let you live.”
She wiped tears with one hand while almost keeping the gun aimed at him in the other. “I’m sorry…”
“Hey, kid. You gotta do me a favor.” He coughed hard and swallowed something before grasping his dog tags and breaking the chain from his neck with a sharp yank.
“What?” She nodded. “Anything.”
He tossed the two steel tabs onto the ground at her feet. “Survive. Get the fuck off this rock.” His eyelids drooped. “Oh, and one more thing… Thanks for… not letting me… kill anyone innocent.”
Kerys shuddered with grief.
Sergeant Gensch let out a long, gravelly exhale, and slumped sideways.
She stared at him, wracking sobs shaking her body where she stood. Minutes later, she swooned to her knees, both arms draped in her lap. Ba
d enough someone she trusted, her rock to cling to, died. Worse, she had fired the fatal shot.
Still clutching the gun in both hands, she bawled.
23
Distress Call
Time lost meaning to Kerys. She wept uncontrollably, kneeling in the dark underground chamber on silt-coated stone, six feet from the body of the first person she’d ever thought of as a father figure, the first man she’d trusted after Will. A man she had killed. So what if alien microbes had left him violently deranged? He’d shown her a bit of sensitivity she felt certain few people had ever been allowed to see in him. And now he’d died because of her.
Kerys growled into her hands. No. Not because of her.
Because of Will’s carelessness.
For a day and a few hours, she’d almost had a family.
She couldn’t possibly carry him up a ladder to the infirmary, but the reservoir chamber felt enough like a tomb already. Who am I kidding? I’m never getting out of here. I’m probably already infected. Maybe I’ve snapped and I don’t know it. Do crazy people know they’re crazy? What if I’m the one that went nuts and Gensch was trying to stop me?
All the low moments in her life when she’d ever asked fate why she had been denied a father replayed. Eliza came to mind, a childhood friend with an awesome dad who she’d been jealous of. Night after night of shouting matches with Mom followed. Whenever they argued over schoolwork or extra-curricular activities she hadn’t been interested in, her mother would always ask the ceiling to send her useless father home to take her useless child away. Mom always called her useless if she didn’t get perfect grades or be in the top five percent at whatever activity she’d been forced into. For most of her teen years, Kerys had believed it. Even now, deep down inside, she felt useless. Powerless to stand up to the other team who stole her work. Powerless to help anyone here. Powerless to get off this planet. Just like mother said―worthless.
Eventually, Kerys dwelled on her college days, specifically how she’d avoided her small circle of friends whenever they started talking about going home for the holidays. She’d rather be alone in a dorm, and she didn’t need to hear how happy they all were to go home.
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