by David Ryker
“I asked you a goddamn question, Airman!” Her eyes burned into me like pokers.
I swallowed, suddenly sheepish, all the adrenaline and anger gone. Fish had loosened too, but stared indifferently at the catwalk, as was his way.
“Just some friendly sparring, Major,” I said as flatly as I could muster. The pain throbbed heavier with every slowing beat of my heart. Fish had gotten me good a few times. I’d been smart enough to keep a jacket on this time, for the extra protection it afforded, but he’d still drawn blood.
“Friendly sparring?” she scoffed. “Jesus Christ. If you’ve got fight in you, that’s great, but save it for the people we’re going up against, alright? Now get yourselves cleaned up. We’re here.”
She turned and stormed into the cockpit, followed by Mac and Everett. Alice stayed still, arms folded, face devoid of any emotion at all now. She took a deep breath, and pressed her lips together until they disappeared.
And then she stepped in after them and closed the door.
Fish was gone a second later, and then it was just me in the cargo bay, bruised and bleeding, alone — as I’d always been, and as I always would be.
6
When we dropped out of hyperdrive, the stars gleamed on the black curtain of space, like pinpricks letting light shine through from the other side.
Fish had scratched me a couple times, but the jacket had been a sound move. I bandaged my shoulder, which was the worst offender, and then headed up to the cockpit.
I was the last there and slipped into the seat next to Fish at the back. I eyed him cautiously as I did, but he didn’t seem to care that I was there — at least not in any way that suggested he was looking for round three. It was his usual indifference and I had to commend the guy for his compartmentalization skills — or maybe he just honestly didn’t give a shit.
My stomach gave a little twist as Volchec took us back to cruising speed. FSS 63-40 loomed upward from below as we crested and then dipped toward it. It looked like a huge coffin. It was an onyx blue and hung weightless, an interminable and unbroken chunk of metal. It was a cuboid, easily ten kilometers long, and about five wide. On one end there were a series of huge mouths that cut back into the structure. Inside them I could see Federation ships under construction. Destroyers, carriers, dropships — they all looked tiny in the gaping bays.
I swallowed and strained against my harness to see a little better, feeling very small all of a sudden.
Lights twinkled all down the sides and construction droids moved like flies in the space around it, carrying or repairing things. Sparks fluttered from welding torches all over it like tiny fountains of light winding into space.
Volchec reached up and flicked a couple of switches overhead. Static crackled in the cabin and she spoke into the ether. “This is Major Annelise Volchec, on approach — authorization code niner-niner-victor-charlie-bravo-x-ray.”
A robotic voice spoke back after a second or two. “Major Volchec, welcome. You’re authorized to dock. Please proceed to airlock eight-four-echo. Telemetry transmitted.”
The voice faded, and on the windscreen appeared a green reticle, pulsing slowly, hovering over the station. Next to it was a little label reading 84-E, and leading to it in a wide arc was a translucent line accompanied by angles and vectors for us to follow.
Volchec rode it with practiced precision and brought us inside the station, which made the Falmouth look like a toy — a feat I didn’t think was possible.
Volchec set us down and cooled the engines. They whined to a stop and a dull thud outside the hull told us that the airlock had closed. A deep hiss rang out as the room oxygenated, and then a green light lit up in the cockpit telling us that we were safe to disembark. I was up first, closest to the exit, and did the steps in two leaps, my boots clanging on the steel as I headed for the rear doors. I hit the pad with the heel of my hand and folded my arms across my chest, waiting for the ramp to level, moving from foot to foot.
Despite everything else, I was pretty excited — after taking a leaf out of Fish’s book and shutting everything else out. When life was what it was for me, you had to take your breaks where you could get them, and the thought of slipping into a rig all of my own was pretty much the only thing I had to look forward to just then.
Volchec moved up next to me and the others gathered behind her, but no one said anything. Everett was still reading her book, holding it in front of her face with one hand while she leaned on a crutch with the other. Her leg was still giving her grief, and while moving around the cabin was alright without the support, the sheer size of the station suggested that there’d be a fair amount of walking involved.
Volchec held up a pad in front of her and typed a few things in, confirming that we’d landed, as well as alerting some people we were disembarking, by the looks of things.
She walked forward as soon as she could and stepped onto the cold floor of the airlock, circling the Tilt-wing without looking up from the pad. We headed up a set of steps toward the inner doors and she swiped us in. Beyond was a white paneled corridor reminiscent of the Falmouth, except a lot longer. I stared into the distance, watching it dwindle to a point I couldn’t see the end of, a dead straight line that seemed to go on forever. I wondered if there was some sort of station-transport available. A wheeled trolley of some kind, a little cart, maybe. I couldn’t see any, though. That sucked.
Volchec paused at the wall and hooked the pad onto her belt. There was a white box next to the door that she pulled open and reached into, withdrawing six little cases. She tossed one to each of us. We caught and opened them, staring down at what looked like a contact lens with tiny needles on the inside of it. A shiver ran down my spine and I felt my neck stiffen.
“Put those on,” Volchec said sternly, all the casualness that we’d shared in the Tilt-wing gone. “This place is one giant maze, and I don’t want you getting lost. We’re on a tight schedule. We’re out of here in three hours, so no fucking around, alright? And here, take these, too.”
She tossed Alice and me a communicator each, a thin and curved transparent glass slab. I looked from the case to the communicator to her and back but said nothing. Mac, Fish, and Everett had already scooped the lenses out and were carefully pressing them to their left eyeballs. I saw Alice do the same and followed suit. I guessed it wasn’t optional.
I peeled my eyelid up and scooped the lens onto it, pressing it in until I felt it latch. It stung a little and my lid forced itself shut, sealing it in place. I swore under my breath, my eye watering.
“MacAlister, Sesstis — with me. We’re going down to the production floor. Maddox, Kepler, you head up to Medical. They’re expecting you and will have your implants ready. Then join us on the production floor, alright?”
She didn’t wait for an answer before she turned and headed down the hallway, peeling off left at the first intersection and disappearing. When my left eye finally came back into focus, I realized that things weren’t like they were before. Floating in the air in front of me were words.
Federation Space Station 63-40
Construction Plant & Trading Hub
Welcome, Airman First Class James Maddox.
Beyond it were floating green labels hanging off the sides of the walls, denoting what lay down corridors, and how far away they were. I walked forward through the title and into the space beyond, searching the signs for Medical. I could see Alice doing the same, but I didn’t wait for her to move before I took off. I spotted that it was straight ahead, or at least, that was what the sign floating against the wall on my right read.
Everett moved off behind me in a different direction. I was about to ask where she was going when I realized that there was no point, really. I’d see her later on, and if she wanted to speak to me, she would. It was tough coming to terms with the notion that we were all just in proximity, but not close. But then again, it wasn’t any different than growing up. All I had to do was regress a little — treat them like the guys in my ‘fo
rming crew. Workmates, that was it. I couldn’t get attached. Couldn’t let myself get attached.
I heard Alice pick up behind me, but I didn’t look back. I was done chasing her around. Whatever I thought there was between us, there wasn’t. I sighed and gritted my teeth, following the glowing signs hanging in the air. I should have just gone with the blonde on Draven — got out while I could. No, I couldn’t think like that. I was here now, in the heart of a Federation space station, and thoughts of insubordination and desertion were only going to cause problems. If I wanted any sort of stability then I needed to get my head down, focus on the task at hand. Get my implant, get my rig, get my mind straight, complete the missions, survive, and rank up, out of the fight. Then I could make some money, wait for my chance, and blow out of the Federation with enough credits to set myself up somewhere nice — anywhere there wasn’t a war raging.
As I walked, I realized how terrible a plan it was, but I didn’t see that I had any other choice. I belonged to them, and desertion carried the death penalty — a one-way ticket through an airlock with no space suit. If I was going to do it, I had to be sure I could get out, and get far enough away that they’d never find me, and that sort of disappearing act required a hefty stack of credits — of which just then I had exactly none. I had been a recruit until a few days ago, and since I’d not been deployed on active duty. While we weren’t, we were only paid in room and board. It was the Federation’s way of limiting the options of its soldiers.
I stopped at an elevator and pressed the call button. Alice caught up and stood next to me, both of us silent as we watched the lights descend through the floors, of which there were hundreds.
“Nice weather,” I said after a minute or two of awkward silence.
She huffed, letting a jet of air out of her nose, but didn’t make it all the way to a smile.
“If we’re going to be stuck working together,” I said flatly without segueing into it, “then we might as well be civil. Whatever your problem is with me, just get over it, alright? We don’t have to be friends, but if you’re going to just ignore me the entire time, I’d rather you just tell Volchec you want out, and go back to being a big fish in a small pond. When we’re out there, I at least want to know that my back is covered.”
She snorted this time and shook her head. “You’ve got some fucking nerve,” she muttered coldly, folding her arms. “You honestly don’t have a clue, do you?” She turned half on, glowering, eyes full of anger, glistening in the pale halogens. “Why don’t you try getting out of your own fucking way for once and put yourself in someone else’s shoes?”
“Oh yeah? Why don’t you, huh? I’m done risking my ass for you.” I scoffed and stepped into the waiting elevator. When I turned back to face her, my features a contorted sneer of indifference, I saw that she wasn’t wearing that hard mask she usually was, but instead, she looked broken. Her eyes were puffy, cheeks flushed, lips pulled into a quivering line.
She swallowed hard and sucked back what I could only assume were tears before she looked down at her feet. “I’ll get the next one,” she said, her voice cracked and thin, before she jabbed the button and the doors snapped shut, taking her away from me.
The box started zooming upward almost immediately, called on a higher floor. I suddenly felt like I’d been very stupid, but I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what I’d missed, or how I’d managed to miss it. She was angry, that was certain — but just then I felt like maybe it wasn’t directed at me. I’d not seen her be friendly with anyone else, so maybe it was something bigger? I cursed myself as I reached level 126, rolling her words over in my head before hopping out on the Medical Deck.
In front of me was a circular desk with a couple of droids behind it. I’d not come across anyone else onboard yet, and by the looks of it, it was mostly droids. I approached the pristine white surface, thought about putting my hands on it, and then decided against it, holding them together awkwardly in front of me as the pumpkin-headed droid with a screen for a face stared out me, a wide smile displayed across the front.
“Welcome to the medical level of the Federation Space Station Sixty-three Forty. How may I help you?” The voice was generated and modulated, not even live-captured, as a lot of the high-end droids were. Made no difference to me, either way. These weren’t true AI, not like the high-functioning androids I’d met on Genesis, or the onboard assistants like Greg, but just general learning-systems programmed with a series of base functions. I peered over the desk, seeing that it wasn’t even mobile. A steel arm jutted out of the floor, wires snaking around it, and fed into the torso — the only thing visible without leaning over the counter. I smirked. “Airman First Class James Maddox, I’m here for—”
“One moment please.”
“Sure.”
“Please proceed via the designated path.”
“The designated—?” I got cut off as a flash of pain jolted in my left eye. I doubled over instinctively and clawed at my face. “Sonnovabitch!” I half yelled, blinking to see whether I’d suddenly gone blind. In my vision, a translucent line, like I’d seen on the windshield coming in, was now illuminating my way to the right room. The droid had beamed it right into my lens. I couldn’t help but think that simply telling me would have been easier — and at least a little less painful.
“Thanks,” I grumbled before setting off. There was still no sign of Alice.
When I got in the room, which was just around the corner — which only furthered my displeasure at having a route burnt into my cornea — it was another droid, standing next to a chair that had a head clamp on it.
The droid, which was just as bulbous-headed as the last, but this time set up on a pair of treads to move around, proffered the chair to me with a spindly arm. “Please, have a seat, Airman First Class James Maddox.”
I looked from its smiling screen to the chair and back. Again, I didn’t feel like there was a choice. “Alright,” I mumbled, forcing a smile before lowering myself into the chair. I put my head back and the clamps slowly closed around my skull until they tightened, locking my head in place.
“Please do not move while we scan your cranium.”
I obliged and stared at the blank wall in front of me. The room was a white box devoid of anything other than the chair and the droid, and the door which wasn’t a door, but instead just a doorway. Though privacy didn’t seem like an issue because, for the most part, the station seemed totally unmanned — at least by anything biological.
Alice streaked past, walking briskly. She glanced in, face cold and grave, but didn’t stop.
“Alice!” I tried to call.
The droid’s iron grip fastened around my wrist. “Please refrain from moving or the accuracy of the injector may be compromised.”
“Injector?” I remembered then exactly what I was there for, and what was about to happen. They were going to shoot a microchip into my brain.
As if on cue, the machine started humming. My heart picked up and the arms of the chair felt slick under my palms.
“Remain calm,” the droid said flatly. “The procedure is nearly over.”
I swallowed and closed my eyes. My brain had been a whirl up until that moment, but now it was clear — the vision of a needle plunging into the soft patch of flesh under my left ear just behind my jawbone obsessing my imagination.
I felt it, the cold sting as it slowly pressed into my flesh. It was everything I could do not to twist my head away, but if I did try, then I’d probably end up lobotomizing myself.
And then it was over. A sharp pain flooded into my head, followed by a deep, seeping warmth. A ringing kicked up in my ears and then slowly faded. The needle slithered back into whatever hole it had shot out of, and the droid pressed a piece of gauze to the side of my head.
“You may experience some nausea and headaches. This is normal.”
“Thanks,” I sighed, trying to blink away the dancing lights that had appeared in front of my eyes.
“You have
now been implanted with the Federation Standard Neural Interface Chip. This will allow you access to Federation buildings, vehicles, and most other secured locations, providing your rank is sufficient, by locally transmitting your biometric profile. You will also be able to innately translate most languages and communicate with many species and races across the galaxy. Should you also wish to sync your chip with that of others, you will be able to communicate neurally, dependent on proximity. Have a nice day.” The droid wheeled away from the chair and backed into the corner.
“Wait, did you say neurally? As in, in my head?” I held the wadding to the puncture wound and swiveled around to look at the droid, but its face had gone dark. “Shit,” I mumbled, checking the blood-spotted bandage.
I got up and went into the hallway. As expected, it was empty. What did Volchec say? Head to the production floor. Did I wait for Alice? Should I? Would she even come this way? If she knew I was here, probably not. I thought about calling out, but I didn’t think she’d answer, and I didn’t really think that running around checking all the rooms would be a good idea either. No, I needed to figure out what was getting at her first. And, I also needed to not keep Volchec waiting.
I turned on my heel and headed back to the elevator. My head was starting to pound, and the needle mark wasn’t scabbing. Blood was seeping out of it at a steady rate, and the hole where it’d gone in was throbbing. The gauge of the injector must have been pretty big, and so far, nothing was different — except that it felt like I’d had something injected into my brain, of course.