Deimos Station (Broken Stars Book 2)

by I. O. Adler

  The metal voice shouted again.

  “Do I want to know what he’s saying?” she asked.

  “You’re right; he wants to kill both of us.”

  Breaking cover meant suicide. No doubt Metal Voice had night vision. Enough light shone from above to make out a large room at the end of the corridor and more doors. The desk occupied a dark recessed nook with computers.

  She crawled away from the desk and let her eyes adjust. The floor was sticky. She discovered a small door. It might buy them another minute.

  She hissed for Ovo’s attention before reaching for the door handle, but found the door was ajar with something on the floor blocking it. She touched a boot. Attached to the boot was a body in a hazard suit. She suppressed a cry. Beyond lay what appeared to be a storage closet, but it was impossible to see the interior.

  Their pursuer’s feet crunched on glass. He shouted again. Ovo remained frozen behind the desk with his arms covering his head. Carmen pulled at the body to clear the door, but it was too heavy to move.

  Then a fresh voice called out. Her mother’s.

  “Carmen, is that you? You made it home. Time to end this foolishness and come back to me.”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  Something was happening inside the hospital which alarmed the doctor. But the human continued with her work even as she responded to numerous video calls, interrupting her latest series of tests upon the shadow.

  None of the rifle-toting soldiers would get close to the case that held it prisoner, but the doctor couldn’t keep her hands off it. And the shadow responded with soft touches, allowing her to do what she wanted in exchange for further glimpses into her memories.

  Did she realize what it was doing? Surely not. The gloves and the barrier prevented the shadow from diving deeper, as it had with Agent Barrett. But it could skim the surface and learn.

  She had taken to speaking, and the shadow determined the human was talking to it.

  If only the case would open just a crack…

  The latest test involved a new tool that delivered a slight shock. It was only a mild sting, but the shadow couldn’t prevent a twitch with each application of the tool. The doctor cooed. After each jolt, the doctor took notes.

  Finally she put the tool away. Stroked its tendril. The shadow felt the odd emotions that her affectionate tone masked. She wanted something from it and would continue to deliver new shocks, stronger ones, and more of its body would suffer dismemberment. She foresaw the shadow’s death in time. It was inevitable. She understood this, and now the shadow did too.

  It launched itself at the lid. The doctor jumped back, pulling her hands from the fixed gloves. But the container and its electronic locks held. It plunged from side to side, pushing at every corner, searching for a gap it knew it hadn’t missed, a crack, a weakness, anything.

  The doctor had taken her research as far as she could. The next step would be complete dissection.

  A soldier was pointing his rifle at the case. The doctor spoke and the soldier backed away. Then she leaned in. While her words remained unintelligible, the shadow could hear the tone in her voice.

  She was trying to calm it. Calm it before she ended its life, and it was going to happen soon. The shadow stopped its futile thrashing.

  The doctor placed a hand on the box’s plastic surface. Whispered. The shadow traced the hand with a tendril. Felt the smooth surface. Saw more within her that she was actively sharing.

  She knew. Somehow she understood the shadow was intelligent and was capable of nonverbal communication. Despite this, to her it was little more than a caged animal that would yield career-advancing information on an alien race.

  While the shadow had no fear of death, the thought of failing almost made it thrash again. But it restrained itself. Any chance of surprising the doctor by its feigned inactivity had been squandered. The doctor didn’t seem to be making any mistakes in containment. Either by vivisection or the sonic device, she was going to terminate it.

  She wanted it to know.

  It felt a stirring of admiration. While the humans were weak and backward, this woman possessed the same certainty that those beyond the Wall possessed. What she was about to deliver was inevitable. As had so many throughout the galaxy, so too would the shadow perish.

  Unless it could coax her to let it out.

  But try as it might, without direct contact it couldn’t push her.

  The doctor departed, leaving the soldier behind. Some minutes later, Agent Barrett appeared, dressed and wearing something besides the flimsy gown, but no hazard suit. He leaned in and ignored the soldier’s attempts to direct him away.

  Barrett got close enough that his face almost touched the container. He directed a flashlight beam inside. Spoke. The shadow recognized a gloating tone followed by laughter.

  The shadow pushed.

  The agent stumbled backward as if struck. Too far now, and he was suddenly wary. The soldier escorted him out, leaving the shadow alone.

  Barrett was still there. The thought amused the shadow. The humans had been lucky, there was no other way to describe it. They kept their weakest along with their strongest. A small comfort, but a comfort nonetheless, as the shadow knew that their many flaws would prevent them from ever mastering space beyond their system.

  Its brood would come and finish the job. Its last regret was that the harvester would allow some to escape.

  A soldier escorted Barrett away.

  When the doctor returned, a pair of assistants followed. They wheeled in a cart with trays of shining tools. They plugged instruments into a power bar and set up more lights around the box. Next to the lights they placed recording equipment.

  The doctor came closer. Put her hand against the plastic. Mouthed words. An expression of triumph? A last goodbye? When the shadow placed its tendril to her hand, it felt the intent for what it was.

  “I’m sorry.”

  The shadow’s life was now worth less to her than its body once it was dead.

  The ruthless logic pleased the shadow even as it simmered in its resolve for its kind to come and complete its mission.

  Then all the lights went out.

  The machines they had brought in likewise went dark. A solitary emergency light above a door popped to life. The other staff members fiddled with their suits. The doctor was shouting orders. She was fiddling with the box.

  Other noises, some distant, some loud, shook the hospital. But the shadow understood one of them: the locks that held the box closed had clicked.

  Using all its strength, it propelled itself upward. The doctor may have been strong for a human, but the shadow proved stronger as it popped the lid and crashed into her, sending her tumbling back into the rolling cart with the tools. Even as she fell, it targeted the soldier with the rifle. Darted for him. Tore through the front zipper of his suit and pushed.

  The human knew how to use his weapon. Without hesitation, the shadow had him raise the rifle and open fire.

  When it was over, the soldier fed the shadow with a cry of despair. The shadow indulged itself for a moment before stunning the man into unconsciousness.

  Only one human remained standing. The doctor had backed up to a wall and watched with unmasked horror as the shadow emerged from the soldier’s suit. No longer needing to hide, it stood there before her, its skin glistening with newfound vigor.

  It reached for her.

  She surprised it by removing her helmet and meeting its gaze.

  The tendril slid across her cheek. Saw all her faults and strengths in their purest form, with no barrier.

  “I’m Dr. Greta Leavitt. We have much to learn from one another. I understand you want something. Tell me what it is and I’ll—”

  He stopped her speaking. It was too distracting. She proved cooperative at first, but as it dug into her mind, it encountered resistance. She was hiding something. Unlike Barrett, who had spent his life trying to conceal his pettiness and failures, she was open to everything except he
r mission.

  Protect the sphere.

  The humans had somehow gained an inkling of what they possessed. They understood keeping the sphere was the key to their avoiding another disaster like the one that had shaken their world. The two sisters, Jenna and Carmen Vincent, were part of that literal key. And Jenna remained inside the hospital.

  Discovering the exact location took another push.

  Jenna Vincent was close. So step by step, Dr. Leavitt went to retrieve her.

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  “It’s okay, honey,” Sylvia Vincent said. “I didn’t see you had left the shuttle. Limax won’t hurt you. Unlike Ovo, he knows how to obey orders.”

  Carmen pressed herself against the closet door. “Like killing all these people?”

  She strained her ears for any sign Metal Voice was coming closer. Her hand touched an object connected by a thin cable like a phone charger cord to the dead soldier’s belt. It was a rod or metal wand, about the size of an old-fashioned car antenna, yet thicker. Not a suitable weapon. She set it aside and steeled herself up as she patted the soldier’s belt down.

  Her mother’s voice took on a soothing tone, which struck Carmen as obscene. “Now you know how serious this is. There isn’t time for delays or negotiations. The army wouldn’t give up the harvester sphere. And we need it. Why did you have to come here?”

  “You’re not yourself. Think about what you’ve done. You nuked our home!”

  “It was just an electromagnetic pulse. I doubt it killed anyone.”

  “I saw a crashed plane and burning vehicles and tanks. You shot down a helicopter.”

  “We had to clear the landing zone. Spaceships aren’t invulnerable. We can’t risk someone taking a potshot at us. We’re taking that sphere. It’s not up for debate. Carmen, honey, this is how we have any chance at saving not just our world but so many others. Every day—every hour—we delay might mean we get caught and destroyed.”

  Carmen felt a bulge on the soldier’s leg. Some kind of pouch? No, this was another piece of equipment held secure by a tiny strap. Her fingers ran across the back of the object. A handle. A pistol, she realized.

  “You don’t know that,” Carmen said. “And you locked me up and left me!”

  “I put you somewhere where you wouldn’t get hurt. This is the last place I want you to be.”

  Carmen fumbled to undo the strap. “I’m here. The harvester belongs to everyone on the Framework. Earth needs their help so we can be ready for this…enemy. I will not abandon Jenna and everyone else.”

  “But honey, that’s why we’re inside the hospital. Jenna’s still here and she’s coming with us.”

  A fresh dread crept through her. Jenna’s here.

  “Carmen? Are you listening? Jenna’s a prisoner and I’m going to make sure she and you are protected. There’s no more time for theatrics. Come out.”

  Hands trembling, she slid the automatic pistol from the plastic holster. Ovo stared at her, his green eye twinkling.

  “What about Ovo?” Carmen asked.

  “We take care of our own.”

  “You were trying to shoot him.”

  After a pause, Metal Voice said something, which Ovo replied to without Carmen receiving the benefit of translation.

  Carmen shook her head at him as he got up. “Stay down.”

  She rose first, the pistol pointing. Three green dots in her sights lined up on the round alien as he raised his own weapon. He was alone. Her mother was nowhere to be seen. But then, as if receiving an unheard command, Metal Voice lowered his weapon.

  “Put that pistol down, honey.” Sylvia Vincent’s voice came out of a speaker on Metal Voice’s vest. “And tell Ovo to show himself. Both of you are leaving here with us.”

  Carmen kept her weapon pointing. Touched the trigger. “You said Jenna’s here. Where is she?”

  “On this floor. Our doctor will get her fixed up better than anything this hospital can do for her.”

  “I’m keeping this gun. Tell your soldier here not to touch me or Ovo. In fact, tell him to keep his distance. Where’s Jenna?”

  Metal Voice moved as if to march past her, but Carmen rounded the desk and got in his way. “You stay right there. Ovo, go look for my sister.”

  Ovo slipped past her and hurried through another set of double doors.

  “Carmen, this is foolish,” Sylvia said.

  “Is it? You lock me up and now you’re here willing to blast your way through this hospital? This isn’t so we can have a family reunion, is it? You need both of us still to fly that ship, don’t you? One to do it and another as insurance. That’s why you had Ovo slip me that card.”

  “You’re both important. If the encryption key isn’t hackable or wasn’t reset, then yes, having you and Jenna is necessary.”

  Her mother’s blatant honesty was a surprise. Carmen blinked away sweat. The pistol felt heavy and Metal Voice had eased closer, making her take a step back.

  “Honey,” Sylvia said, “you don’t know the government like I do. We needed to make sure there was no one else here who would interfere. Think about it. Both you and Jenna have been off-world, face-to-face with aliens. The military won’t just do a quick checkup and send you on your way. How many days has it been? And Jenna’s still here.”

  Carmen thought about the dead guard on the opposite side of the desk. “There might be something more going on than a long checkup. I talked to Doctor Leavitt with the army before you hit them with your nuke.”

  “I told you it wasn’t a nuke.”

  “Whatever. She said they were checking in on Dad. Made it sound like everything was okay.”

  “You can’t trust her.”

  “You talked with her too, didn’t you?” Carmen asked. “She told me. You had to lie to her. Told her you needed to land here. Why?”

  “You know this. The sphere is here. And we couldn’t risk them shooting at us. Carmen, this isn’t getting us anywhere.”

  Something about Metal Voice’s posture changed. An unspoken command or an order given on their private channel?

  He rushed her.

  She cried out and backpedaled. The Melded swiped at her with a tentacle, missing her by inches. The pistol slipped from her hand and clattered to the floor. She crashed through the doors into a wide room with a pair of beds and something that looked like a giant-sized incubator for an infant. A few glow sticks lay scattered on the floor. Medical equipment cluttered the room.

  The lid of the incubator was missing.

  Ovo crouched next to one bed, but his attention was on a dark corner beyond the green glow.

  Carmen scrambled as Metal Voice burst into the room. A shape in the corner raised a rifle and fired. A thundering burst of gunfire cut the Melded down.

  Carmen’s ears rang as she ducked for cover. Ovo was shouting. Another voice, muffled and weak…Jenna’s? It had come from one of the beds. Carmen had landed behind the incubator. She grabbed a glow stick. Part of the plastic housing of the incubator had been cracked. The lid lay on the floor near her.

  Who had fired?

  “Hello?” she called. “I’m human. Don’t shoot!”

  She held the glow stick out.

  A figure stood in the corner. Dressed in a yellow hazard suit with the helmet off, the soldier had the rifle dangling in one hand. The soldier made a choking sound. Staggered forward as if they couldn’t walk straight. Behind the figure were the forms of what might have been three other people wearing the hazard suits, their bodies marked with dark wounds and one with their suit torn open.

  She got a better look at the beds. One was empty. Jenna lay in the other one, appearing to be alive, but with the weak light it was impossible to see more than that.

  Ovo’s headlight flicked on, illuminating the armed figure.

  An older woman squinted back at them. A door badge hung on an exterior belt with the word DOCTOR highlighted in orange. She let out a series of unintelligible grunts as if she had lost the ability to speak. Before Ca
rmen could say anything, the doctor raised the rifle.

  “Get down!” Carmen cried.

  She flung the glow stick and dove aside. The rifle clicked. The doctor checked her rifle as if it had experienced some unknown malfunction. Then she kneeled next to one of the fallen soldiers and went through their pockets.

  Time to move.

  A single door lay just beyond Jenna’s bed. Carmen shoved Ovo along and they crowded into a pitch-black room. Carmen pulled the door shut and found a lock on the latch.

  Footsteps were coming. The door shook The doctor groaned on the other side. Had they found more ammo? If so, it would only be a matter of time before they peppered the door.

  Ovo swept the room with his headlight. No exits. They were inside a small lounge or break room with a pair of cloth couches and a small counter and sink, but little else.

  The doctor jiggled the door handle and tugged on it again before the rustling stopped.

  “What do you want?” Carmen called.

  There was no answer. She pressed her head against the door. Strained her ears. Heard a rattle, a clatter, and then something metal scraped. The thought that Jenna remained in the room with the obviously sick doctor only underscored her panic.

  Ovo crouched next to her and slid something beneath the door. A tiny image popped up on a virtual screen of the room beyond the door. The doctor with the rifle was pushing Jenna’s bed.

  “She’s taking your sister,” he said.

  “Yeah. Something’s seriously wrong with her. What did your people do?”

  “It wasn’t us, at least I don’t think so. Someone or something else is here.”

  She tried to work up moisture in her mouth so she could swallow. Gently opened the door, wishing it silent even as the self-closing mechanism hissed. But the doctor didn’t turn as she wheeled Jenna’s bed out through the double doors. The rifle lay discarded nearby.

  Metal Voice remained sprawled on the floor. Carmen guessed the other soldiers were likewise dead.

  All she had to do was close the door and hide. But the remaining doctor—no, not a doctor, not anymore. Was the woman sick? Had she been mentally whammied, as Carmen wanted to believe her mother had been?