Abyss Of Savagery

by Toby Neighbors

  “Captain, we’re going to have to get you out of that armor to see about your arm,” the med tech suggested, bringing Dean’s focus back to the present.

  “Can’t remove my armor until the mission is complete,” Dean said, ignoring the fact that nearly everyone else in his platoon had pulled off their armor to receive medical care.

  “If you don’t get medical help soon for that arm, it might need surgery,” the tech said.

  Dean saw that the med tech was only a corporal, but he had the confidence of a doctor. The last thing Dean wanted was surgery, which would likely pull him from active duty for weeks, maybe longer.

  “It’s just a broken arm,” he said. “My armor is holding it in place.”

  “But the bones aren’t set,” the med tech insisted. “The longer they remain that way, the more time you’re giving them to begin healing incorrectly. That arm won’t be of much use if it’s crippled. You’ll probably be discharged—”

  “Alright, alright,” Dean said. “I’ll take my armor off.”

  Dean popped the straps on his armor, deactivating it. Immediately a throb of pain started up in his arm, and it felt as if his wrist suddenly weighed fifty pounds. The med tech helped Dean get out of the snug-fitting armor, including the insulation suit that was supposed to help protect him from the laser blasts of the Kroll’s feline creatures.

  “Looks like you’ve got a nasty burn back here,” the med tech said. “It’s blistered, but I can take care of that.”

  “Good,” Dean said, suddenly feeling weary. “But it’s my arm I’m worried about.”

  Dean’s forearm was purple and black. It had begun swelling the moment Dean had deactivated his armor. Pulling the broken limb from the sleeve had been excruciating, and he was sweating as he sat on a small table and allowed the med tech to inspect the injury.

  “I’ll need to run a scan to be sure of what I’m working with. It looks possible that the bones are broken in more than one place.”

  “What’s that mean?” Dean asked.

  “Surgery,” the med tech admitted. “It’s impossible to set multiple breaks without an internal splint on the bone.”

  “Oh, hell,” Dean grumbled.

  The med tech ran a handheld device over Dean’s arm and frowned. Dean was getting impatient and annoyed by the throbbing pain in his arm. He was tired, hurting, and angry. Injuries were part of his job, but he expected to be fixed up quickly and ready for the next task without delay.

  “I can’t set it,” the med tech said.

  “Sure you can,” Dean argued. “Slap a Band-Aid on it and let’s move on.”

  “You don’t understand, Captain.”

  “I do understand. My arm is broken and I need it fixed. I don’t care how much it hurts or what you have to do. We’re at war, Corporal. Do you get that? I’m needed and I won’t spend the next six weeks in a cushy hospital somewhere while my platoon is on the front lines of a war with an alien species.”

  “I wasn’t suggesting that, sir,” the tech said. “I can’t set your arm here. If we can get on board the Dunkirk’s medical bay, there’s a robot there that can do the surgery. It’s a laparoscopic procedure that takes about half an hour. You’ll be good to go in a few days. But only if I can get you to the ship.”

  “Well, what are we waiting for?” Dean asked. “Let’s go.”

  Chapter 4

  Dean felt awkward walking through the alien ship with no clothes on. The med tech had wrapped a sheet around Dean’s waist, but he was very aware that he was naked. His arm was hurting worse every minute and all he really cared about was getting the help he needed, so he ignored the surprised looks he got from the displaced crew members of the Dunkirk that were loitering on the curving passageway of the Kroll harvester ship.

  The med tech led Dean to a holding cell with a small doorway cut into the curving glass wall. On the far side of the holding cell was a familiar-looking tunnel made of the strange, gooey substance that held the Kroll ships together. Dean followed the corporal through the tunnel and onto the Dunkirk. The EsDef ship was held in the Kroll vessel’s artificial gravity field on its side, which meant that Dean had to walk on the walls and climb through doorways to get to the medical facility.

  Once they were in the right place, Dean felt a tremor of fear. The med bay was a complete mess. There were perishable medical supplies strewn everywhere. Dean guessed that the Grays had searched for anything of value on the EsDef ship, with no care for what they ruined. Still, it felt sketchy to Dean to think of undergoing surgery in what appeared to be a set from a horror film.

  “Maybe this isn’t such a good idea,” Dean said.

  “We still have power,” the med tech said. “If you want to get your arm fixed, this is the quickest way.”

  “It doesn’t look very sanitary,” Dean said.

  “Your call, Captain. I’m sure there are medical facilities back in the Sol system that will fix you right up.”

  Dean knew that if he returned to Earth with a broken arm, he would be pulled from active duty. Normally, he wouldn’t have minded a short break from the rigors of command, but there was always the possibility that the brass would break up Dean’s platoon in his absence. And worse still, Dean knew that Major Davis needed him to carry out the mission against the Kroll. Dean was the only officer with any kind of success against the aliens. If EsDef was going to take the fight to the enemy, Dean knew he needed to be ready.

  “Fine, just get this over with,” Dean said.

  The med tech nodded and began activating the facility’s systems. Dean had to climb up onto a surgical platform that was currently on the wall. Fortunately, he had to be strapped down for the surgery anyway, and the med tech gave him a sedative that helped him to relax.

  “It’s laparoscopic surgery, so I don’t need to put you under. We’ll just give you a local anesthetic to numb your arm,” the med tech explained. “Just relax. You can close your eyes if you want to.”

  Dean did close his eyes, but his mind was racing with questions. Why was he doing this? He couldn’t remember exactly. It felt risky and reckless to be strapped onto the wall. What was the robot going to do? How could he be sure that the system wasn’t damaged? What if it made his arm worse instead of better? Dean didn’t know, and he felt foolish for trusting a corporal, even if he was a med tech on an EsDef warship.

  The injections to numb his arm felt like a hundred bee stings. The robot injected small amounts of medicine into Dean’s bare arm in rapid succession. He had to fight the urge to cry out; the skin on his forearm was stretched tight from the swelling and the injections seemed to pierce clusters of nerves. But soon the pain faded and Dean felt better. The throbbing ache was gone, and his mind began to drift.

  Suddenly his body was jerked by the medical robot. He didn’t feel the pain he knew the rough procedure was surely causing, but he was shaken out of his daydream. Looking over, he could see the robot was nothing more than a big arm attached to the ceiling of the med bay. It was shoving what looked like a metal rod into his arm.

  “What the hell?” he said, his words slurring slightly.

  “It’s inserting a rod to act as an internal splint,” the med tech explained. “The bones will be attached using organic adhesive to hold them into place, which will allow the bones to heal properly.”

  “What about the metal rods?” Dean asked.

  “You’ll have a bionic arm, Captain.”

  “Really?”

  “No sir, that was a joke. The rods don’t need to come out. They’ll stay attached to the bones in your forearm.”

  “Rods?” Dean asked, wondering again what he’d gotten himself into. “More than one rod?”

  “That’s right, sir. You have two bones in your forearm: the radius and the ulna. Both were broken, and so we’ll insert two rods to fix them.”

  “I was bitten,” Dean said, suddenly feeling nostalgic about the fight with the Kroll. “One of those big cats with the wide mouth. It bit me.”


  “That’s horrible,” the med tech said.

  “Well, it wasn’t all bad,” Dean said. “My armor kept the teeth out. Otherwise I’d have lost that arm for sure. They don’t let one-armed men lead Recon platoons.”

  “So, you were fortunate,” the med tech said.

  “No, I was lucky,” Dean said. “We were all lucky this mission didn’t blow up in our faces.”

  “Of course,” the med tech replied without really listening, as he studied the display that was connected to the robot.

  Dean didn’t seem to notice that the corporal was just humoring him and kept up a running conversation that was more with himself than with anyone else. The sedative made him feel loose and happy, despite the work being done on his arm. When the robot finished inserting the rods and setting the bones in Dean’s forearm, the med tech helped Dean down off the surgery table and settled him on a stool.

  “I’m tired,” Dean said. “I’ve been awake for days.”

  “You’ll be able to rest soon.”

  “I don’t mind,” Dean said. “No, I’m a Recon officer. We don’t need sleep.”

  “Everyone needs to rest sometimes, sir,” the med tech said. “The sedatives will help you sleep.”

  “Don’t need ’em,” Dean declared. “I feel great.”

  “I’m sure you do, Captain.”

  “This place is a mess.”

  “We’ll get it straightened up soon.”

  “See that you do, Corporal. See that you do.”

  They started back to the alien ship once the med tech had Dean’s arm bandaged. It was still swollen, but with the surgery complete, all he needed was time for the healing of his broken bones. After what seemed like an incredibly long journey to Dean, they arrived back in the makeshift sickbay, where Dean was settled onto a pallet on the floor and promptly fell asleep.

  When Dean woke up, Esma was beside him. She was leaning against the wall, her eyes closed. Dean felt a dull ache in his broken arm. His shoulder tingled and he felt stiff. He tried to roll over but discovered that his arm was in a device of some kind.

  “What the hell is going on?” he asked out loud.

  Esma’s eyes fluttered open. She looked tired, but when she smiled Dean felt an instant flush of desire for her.

  “You’re awake,” she said. “How are you feeling?”

  “How long was I asleep?”

  She glanced at her wrist link. “Ten hours.”

  “I guess I needed it,” he said, trying to sit up. “What is this thing on my arm?”

  “It’s a light therapy machine,” Esma explained. “The med tech said it will help your bones heal more quickly.”

  “I need to get up, Esma. I need to get my armor on and check on our progress.”

  “We’re in FTL,” she said, putting an arm on his chest and pushing him back down onto the pallet. “The ship is running fine. The other ships are following us. There is nothing to check on.”

  “What about my platoon?”

  “They’re fine too. They’re resting. You’ve done all you need to do, my love. Rest.”

  Dean suddenly felt tired again. His heart was racing, whether from worry or from desire for Esma he wasn’t sure, but his arms and legs felt heavy.

  “I don’t want to sleep,” he said.

  “But you need to,” she replied. “It’s okay. I’m right here.”

  “I miss you,” he said. “I don’t want to waste our time together.”

  “I know,” she said, and Dean thought he saw tears in her eyes. “I know.”

  He felt sleep rising up for him; it was inevitable. His body had the light, weightless sensation he recognized as a narcotic and guessed that there was more to the device his arm was in than just light therapy.

  “You’re beautiful,” he said.

  “I think you’re stoned, Captain,” Esma replied.

  “That doesn’t change the fact that you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

  Esma smiled, and the image stayed in Dean’s mind as he drifted off to sleep again.

  When he woke up the second time, everything was different. Esma was gone, and the device on his arm had been removed. All around him there was movement, and Dean sat up on his pallet to look around.

  “Well, it’s about damn time, Captain,” Chavez said. “Thought you might sleep right through everything.”

  “What’s going on?” Dean asked.

  “We’re an hour out from Sol,” Chavez said, handing Dean his armor. “Time to get you dressed. The Admiral wants everyone ready in case we run into trouble back home.”

  “How long was I out?” Dean asked.

  “All told, about twenty hours—but hell, we all were.”

  “Give me a report,” Dean said as he checked his broken arm.

  The skin was still tight, but the swelling was nearly gone. He could bend his wrist slightly, but there was still a lot of pain when he did. Luckily, he could flex his hand and make a fist without pain. He stepped into his armor and Chavez helped pull the tight-fitting suit up over his shoulders.

  “Loggins is up and around. He’s not a hundred percent, but he’s fit for duty,” Chavez explained. “Owando is still out. They’ve treated his burns, but it will be a few more days before he can even think about putting on armor again.”

  “It’s a miracle we weren’t all killed,” Dean said. “I never thanked you for saving my life.”

  “You’ll never have to, Captain,” Chavez said, handing Dean his TCU. “The platoon is waiting outside.”

  Dean followed Chavez out into the passageway. He felt better but still a little foggy from the pain medication he’d been given. He wanted to have his armor give him a boost with the built-in stimulants it could release into his bloodstream, but he decided to wait until he understood their situation completely before resorting to more drugs.

  “Good to see you again, Captain,” Ghost said.

  “It’s good to be on my feet again, Sergeant,” Dean replied. “Looks like everyone is locked and loaded.”

  “We’re still low on ammunition, sir,” Tallgrass reported.

  “What about the captured munitions? Did we recover anything?”

  “No, sir,” Chavez said. “Whatever was done with the weapons and ammunition by the Kroll, we haven’t found it yet. Could be they jettisoned everything.”

  “That doesn’t make much sense,” Dean replied.

  “Would we keep bows and arrows that we took from a primitive native species?” Tallgrass asked.

  “Point taken,” Dean replied. “But our weapons are potent against the Kroll. Far superior to their laser cannons.”

  “But still low-tech in comparison, maybe,” Landin offered.

  “It could be that they feel our weapons are beneath them,” Ghost suggested. “There is a significant difference between focused-light weapons and projectiles.”

  “Especially in a vacuum,” Harper added.

  “Not to mention that this is our first true victory over the Kroll,” Chavez said. “They may not realize just how dangerous we are.”

  “That’s true,” Dean admitted. “They confiscated those munitions after defeating eight Recon platoons. Okay, so we’re not at full strength and our ammunition is low. What else?”

  “The ship is too big to guard by just one platoon,” Chavez said.

  “You really think we could be attacked by our own forces?” Adkins asked.

  “Hopefully not,” Dean said, “but we are in an alien ship and it’s better not to take chances. We can’t guard everything, but we can do our best to offer protection where it’s needed most. Staff Sergeant, you stay here with the triplets and Sergeant Tallgrass. Your task is to protect the communications relay and sickbay.”

  “Yes sir, Captain,” Chavez said.

  “The rest of you are with me,” Dean continued. “We’ll guard the command center in the aviary.”

  Chapter 5

  “Hold this position,” Admiral Matsumoto said. “Resend our call
sign and request further instructions.”

  Dean normally kept track of ship systems on his TCU, but the battle helmet wasn’t able to tap into the makeshift operating system of the Kroll ship. Instead, he settled for looking over the shoulder of the navigation officer who had a plot of the solar system on his console.

  “They weren’t kidding around,” Ghost said. The lanky sniper was also looking over the navigation officer’s shoulder.

  “No, they weren’t,” Dean agreed. “Looks like half the fleet.”

  “Admiral,” the communications officer located on the lip of the nest structure said, “I have a message from Space Base 13.”

  “Play it,” the stoic commander said.

  There was a hiss of static and then a voice said, “Alien armada hailing as the Hastings, the Petersberg, the Dunkirk, and the Sekigahara: hold your position outside the heliosphere. I repeat, hold your position outside the heliosphere, and wait for instructions.”

  “Well that just figures,” Ghost said over the platoon comlink.

  “More bureaucracy bullshit,” Adkins complained.

  “Zip it,” Dean warned them both. “I’m trying to listen to what’s happening.”

  Admiral Matsumoto was replying to the message from the EsDef brass. It quickly became clear that communication at such extreme distances was a slow process. They were too close to Earth and the fleet of EsDef ships to use FTL, yet far enough that radio signals traveling at the speed of light still took over five hours to reach the brass at Space Base 13. Dean ordered his platoon to stand down. A ship was being sent to shuttle the commanders, including Dean and Staff Sergeant Chavez, back to Space Base 13. It would also deliver EsDef scientists to begin studying the alien ships. The rest of Dean’s platoon would stay on the harvester, helping the scientists and researchers. It was, in many ways, anticlimactic.

  Admiral Matsumoto ordered his senior staff along with Dean and Chavez to the launch bays, where the teardrop-shaped tug vessels were stored. Each person would have to be shuttled from the Kroll ship to the EsDef ships by the tugs. Esma and her crew of operators would pilot the alien vessels. It was a slow, carefully planned transfer of personnel. Dean knew the flight crew on the escort ship would be jumpy; it was possible that the Kroll had in fact concocted an elaborate ruse to catch humanity off guard by pretending to have been defeated. It wasn’t until the commanders were taken aboard the escort ship that the tension began to ease.