Darkside 2

by Aaron K Carter

  “Four leagues from Kepler, we have an ETA of 2043,” I say, “We left Isylgyns in our dust ten point nine leagues ago.”

  “Wicked---your orders are to report with the remainder of the squadron to the Ulyssess,” Kip says, sounding like he’s reading off of a chart, “Can you give me your damage report?”

  “Negative, my six remaining ships and crew are returning to Kepler, pressure sickness be damned our injuries are too great we need more urgent medical care my gunner alone has about two hours before he flat lines,” I say, looking down at Leavitt’s vitals which are quite erratic. He took far too much morphine and he’s lost far too much blood. His heart rate is at 300 bpm which his heart simply can’t keep up with as little blood as he has in him, plus there’s not enough oxygen getting to his brain at this point. Also my acid burns need immediate treatment to promote skin regrowth.

  “Your orders are to return to the Ulysses,” Kip sighs. He knows when he’s lost.

  “My orders be damned, I am taking my men home,” I say, “And retract whatever melodramatic announcement was made saying the whole crew of Alpha Centari is dead because we aren’t.”

  “Copy that, Major Card, anything else you’d like?” Kip asks, that’s probably sarcastic.

  “Yes, I want EMTs waiting when we land to treat the pressurization sickness as well as our injuries my gunner will probably need a crash cart and I need emergency anti-acid packs while awaiting cleansing,” I say, “Do they need---”

  “No, Card, they know how to treat you, thank you I’m sure they’ll appreciate you explaining it to them while they do it, though,” he says, guessing I was about to explain the anti acid baths I will need. Which of course I was.

  “You could be nicer to me when I nearly died,” I say.

  “No, I can’t, you were probably just fine,” Kip says.

  “Why do you say that?” I ask, sharply, wondering how he guessed that I was never in any actual danger.

  “You’re you, you’re never afraid, Card, you just know you should be. Now get them safely home, I’ll talk to you later,” Kip says.

  “Right, better to save the life of the unit, over,” I say.

  “Over,” he says, and I flick the unit back to communicating only with Leavitt.

  “You tell them to tell everyone we ain’t dead?” Leavitt asks.

  “Yeah,” I say.

  “You think they will?” he asks.

  “No, probably not till we land,” I say, staring out at the stars. Familiar, taking me closer to Kepler. Kepler where I’ll be planet side for at least six months. Half a year of my life with no flying. I suppress a sigh. I won’t be free for much longer.

  Chapter 25

  Six month later

  I walk into Thorn’s office unannounced and without giving him the proper greeting, but I’m not at all happy with him right now. I rarely am in fact beatific that he exists in general, however, today is a particularly trying one. Especially since today I was FINALLY cleared to fly again he goes and does this.

  “How dare you?” I ask, folding my arms.

  “Major Card we need to talk about how you enter a room, not particularly with me because I understand you but with other people specifically slamming the door like a five year old it’s not very becoming it’s against customs and courtesies you aren’t in space anymore---” Thorn turns around in his seat preparing to return the salute I didn’t throw. He lowers his hand wearily.

  “Yes which piques me which is a part of what I need to talk to you about---”

  “SIR, I do outrank you really, please, Major Card, I am busy right now can’t you write me a memo with a profane acrostic in it and then we’ll chat later?” Thorn asks, hopefully. He wants to eat his lunch which isn’t going to happen now after this last stunt he’s lucky it isn’t already poisoned.

  “Major Tom’s new flight partner---and my new flight partner,” I growl, trying to control my rage. “Why?”

  “Your flight partner, Leavitt, was medically discharged,” Thorn says, “And Tom’s was on his last mission. Therefore you both were assigned new flight partners--- yes I’m following so far.”

  “Last time you promised she could be my gunner,” I say, folding my arms.

  “No, you said ‘next time you have to assign Tom as my gunner’ and I said ‘no actually I don’t’ and I don’t so I didn’t,” he says, “I’m sorry Titus, I’d accommodate your childish requests in the interest of promoting Kepler peace, I really would, except thing is she’s far too good of a pilot just to be your gunner we’re short on pilots as it is after the massacre of Alpha Centari which you both survived, I’m terribly short and I can’t put a good pilot, one of our best, on simple gunner duties. And Riley is an excellent gunner and you like her if you actually like people you like her.”

  “It’s not my flight partner it’s Tom’s gunner,” I growl.

  “What about him?” Thorn asks, innocently he knows damn well what he’s done.

  “He’s younger than I am.”

  “I know.”

  “And better looking.”

  “I know.”

  “And his face isn’t scarred by acid.”

  “I know.”

  “And he looks like he’s better in bed than I am.”

  “I know----wait how can you even quantify something like that?”

  “I have a chart some women helped me design it---I could find out if he actually is better in bed than I am though---do you know where Hansen is?”

  “Titus, I’ll stop you from doing that---”

  “And he’s charming and makes good conversation and he probably knows how to be nice to people,” I plead.

  “I know,” Thorn says.

  “And I can’t kill him because his mother is Lt Col Zigfield and she taught me how to fly which automatically gets her off my nearly all encompassing hit list and onto my actually tolerate existence list so I really really don’t want to kill or maim him,” I groan.

  “I know,” Thorn says, smiling evilly.

  “Damn it---that is it, I will have you beheaded. I hadn’t decided till now but I will. I will decapitate you,” I sigh, pressing my hands against my head and closing my eyes.

  “I don’t know why I take it for granted you’re kidding---”

  “Neither do I please?” I beg, “Please? Please?”

  “No, Titus, in all seriousness I’m shorthanded as it is, Zeigfield is a decent gunner, you and Tom are my most experience pilots, I don’t even want you flying together because I can’t lose you at the same time, let alone in the same ship,” he says.

  “Please?” I say, pathetically.

  “No---why do you even think that will work?” he asks.

  “I like you,” I lie.

  “I know for a fact there’s a cockroach in the boxed lunch sitting there,” he nods to the box which he hasn’t opened.

  “What does that have to do with me?” I ask, innocently.

  “Would you believe that insects and various laxatives don’t wind up in my food at sequential intervals when you’re on a different planet than I am?” he asks, raising his eyebrows. Damn if only my insidious but highly immature pranks weren’t so terribly amusing to me.

  “Wow really?” is all I say.

  “I know shocking isn’t it?” he says.

  “Please?” I say.

  “No, you’ll have to deal with it, Titus,” he says, shaking his head, “My decision stands, you fly with Riley, she flies with Ziegfeld.”

  “Then let me go back to the Ulysses and be based there till I can take the next Suicide Squadron to the North Rim,” I beg, “I’ve been on the ground too long as it is.”

  “I wish I could put you in a different part of the galaxy than I’m in but no. No, it’s mandatory one year planetside after stage 10 pressurization sickness which you sustained,” he says, “No the answer is no.”

  “Please?”

  “No, no, and no,” he says, “But as I have you here, I did have something else I needed to tal
k to you about.”

  “What?” I ask. I wonder if he’s finally found a way to prove I’m the one who made him fly into those asteroids.

  “It’s on the subject of our being shorthanded----I need you to take a trainee,” he says.

  “No. I don’t train people I don’t like people and you can’t force me to isn’t part of my SFSC, you can’t, no,” I say, flatly. I hate being around people.

  “Emergency orders because I don’t have enough willing trainers so yes I can force you but----but out of the goodness of my heart, I’m going to let you choose,” he holds up a stack of print outs.

  “Fine,” I growl. Just don’t expect them to survive with their sanity. I’ll have them deserting in three days and then they won’t make me train people again, fine be that way.

  “So you can pick between these, who are compared to you slathering idiots, and then this one. First cadet to match your scores on the SFOT, tested out of basic, just like you did,” he says, holding up one of the print outs.

  “Really?” I ask, surprised, taking the file.

  “Yes, he’s never been to a university, just a trade school, like you. Terribly clever,” Thorne says, “Wants to fly more than anything.”

  “I’ll take him,” I say, looking at the file.

  “Not that fast---Titus, look at me, look me in the eyes,” he says, pulling the paper back so that I look at him. I glare at him.

  “If anything happens to this kid----if he dies. If he loses limbs, if he loses his mind---if he so much as develops a head cold while he’s in your care---I am going to blame you and I won’t care about making it stick I will just actually physically hurt you. This is a sixteen year old BOY who is too clever for his own good but he’s a child and I will protect him understood?” he asks.

  “Yes, sir,” I say. no problem. If I want to drive the cadet insane I just have to kill Thorn first.

  I sit waiting quietly. It’s superfluous to have me get up at 0400 to wait for my trainer who probably doesn’t even know they have a cadet waiting for them. All of my friends from OTS have already been collected. My stomach burns. They gave me an MRE this morning and left me to my own devices in this unused classroom. But I don’t want to wander around or take my jacket off or anything when some Captain or Major might walk in at any moment and I want to make a good impression. It isn’t very well scheduled. I have coursework I need to keep up with and they’ve not even left me with access to tablet. Doesn’t the Space Forces understand economy of time? And I’m excited, I finally get the chance to fly, to learn how to be a Spaceman, an officer cadet. Nobody saying I’m too young or too poor or too quiet or anything. I’ll show them all.

  Chapter 26

  I push my body through the pool, the water is cold on my hot skin and my arms burn. I quit counting laps a while ago. A long while ago by the feel of my arms. I just want to move. To be free, to have my brain go quiet as I can’t breath my muscles ache so badly. But it’s not happening.

  Because I can’t run. I’ll never run again.

  I pull myself up on the side, breathing heavily and thinking about the fact that I am probably sweating but there’s no difference between my sweat and the water. No value difference, I’m wet either way.

  I rest my chin against the cement of the pool edge and watch the other hospital patients. Some on crutches, some in wheel chairs. Some using walkers. I’m at the civilian hospital now, in the Capital. That made it easier for my mother to visit every single day like she thinks she needs to. Also I agreed because I’m medically discharged, so it only made sense to transfer to the hospital where I’ll be getting the continuing care for the legless. It’s comments like that that extended my stay because my mother made them put me on a suicide watch after I kept making stupid ass comments like that.

  I’m not suicidal, though. That would be pointless. I wouldn’t walk again if I die either. I won’t be anything. I’m pretty depressed, though. The Space Forces are giving me a substantial stipend to live off of, since they took away my life they thought that was fair. And they set me up with someplace to live, a flat that I haven’t been to because I don’t care.

  I don’t want to live in the city. I’ve never wanted to, it’s full of smoke and people and sadness and it’s too crowded. I’ve always wanted to live out there in the country where there’s open space and the stars and everything. Ever since my mum took us kids out to the countryside, once. I think we stole the train tickets honestly, or jumped on somebody else’s pass I don’t know. but I think we did. and anyway we just rode the train as high up in the mountains as it went. and we sat there and we looked at the stars.

  Then of course we had to go home because our mum had to work. and I haven’t been out to the forest like that since. Not just to exist. we get sent to do combat training, now and again. And some of the bases are more remote. But you’re still on a base full of people. No I’d like to get away.

  Except I can’t now.

  Because I don’t have any legs, apparently I need to keep going back to the doctor. And I can’t always wear artificial legs and I’m prone to infection and they’re worried about my nubs of bone dying slowly and them needing to take more leg. And the artificial legs I do have won’t go over rough terrain anyway and they need adjustment and tools and all manner of things and the remainders of my legs need salve and things.

  I don’t even know what I’ll do with myself when I’m discharged. I don’t have a job, I don’t know how to get a job. I don’t even know what jobs are or what I’d qualify for or what I can do since I have no legs. My back up careers of wild life technician or dog walker or raptor hunter or any of the non-military alternate careers I had picked out all involve wait for it...legs.

  I sigh, still half in and half out of the water. It’s only like this that I can pretend that I’m whole.

  I lean there and watch people come in to the fitness room of the hospital. I call it a fitness room, it’s really a rehabilitation place, only ex-military like me try to use it for actual fitness. Which doesn’t work very well because we are ex military because some part of us got blown or cut off. so there’s usually about half a man to keep fit.

  A group of children come in with their nurses. Cancer ward, they all have pathetic little bald heads and pallid skin. the nurses lead them over to the hot tub. I wave at them, and they just stare at me. I sigh. I like kids, I like talking to them. Before, when I had legs, I was in this program thing where we’d go visit all the little Project 10s. They were always so thrilled when they saw the stars on your lapel and the slick sleeves, then the prop and wings and little spaceship insignia on the chest, an actual pilot, an actual Spaceman. They’d been so thrilled. I think it was my favorite part of being a pilot, the way their little eyes would light up when they saw me come in. so tall and strong, I could lift two of them on back. they loved it, especially the little ones, ask me all sorts of questions. I’d just sit and talk with them for hours. Half of them didn’t have dads or mums or if they had they’d died, so I was the most they had of a grown up to sit and talk with them.

  Space Forces discontinued the program of sending us round to visit, after a few years, not enough participation for the trouble. I kept going anyway, anytime I had leave planet side, I’d always stop in and meet a few of them, the staff were more than happy to let me talk to classes or sit in the rec room. That was always fun, I’d sit there in one of their commons rooms and wait and the little clones would file in in their matching uniforms and their mouths would drop open when they saw me just sitting there. Waiting to see them. Like they were the most important people in the world. Because they were.

  The downside is now when I see a group of children I tend to wave and smile and when I’m not in uniform that makes me look like some kind of pedophile. I sigh. Like these kids. I’m just some crazy half naked bastard with no legs staring at them. they don’t know they remind me of my friends. I don’t suppose they’ll let me go back now. Wouldn’t want the next generation to see what could an
d probably will become of them. That’s too bad.

  I was never able to have children, signed up for the Project 10 thing, but after two failed pregnancies, the mother and I both decided it clearly wasn’t working. She was a mechanic at another base, nice enough, we’d agreed that we’d take opposite leave, different planet side rotations so we could be with the kid as much as possible, one of us. But twice we’d lost the baby, first time a miscarriage, second was stillborn. A girl. After that, we both agreed it was too hard on both of us to hope again, worse on her than on me, but even so just thinking about it was too much. She was pretty bad, I told her I was sure it was my problem.

  She said she didn’t think that was even a thing but I said if it was then I would have it. Sure enough a few years later she married and had a kid the old fashioned way. Yay her. No seriously I was glad she’d been really depressed after losing our daughter and the other one that we never knew what it was. After all that I just kept visiting the project 10s, figured I could be a dad to those kids. Now I don’t get to do that. funny the things life does. To me. I’m not an inherently bad person. I don’t go out of my way to hurt people. I only hate one person and he really deserves it. So I don’t seem to understand why things don’t work out for me. I must’ve done something, I just can’t think of what.

  “Hey, I’m going to work,” Jo says, shaking my shoulder. I don’t roll over or get up. She got back late last night with dinner and we stayed up late. I can keep sleeping so I will.

  “Okay,” I mumble into my pillow.

  “Tomorrow, Sam’s gonna come over with her kids, you guys can go see a film maybe, yeah?” she asks, not leaving or showing any signs of thinking about it.

  “Okay,” I say. I don’t like going out. other people are out. I am safe in here. Nobody come and get me. Then I realize tomorrow is her day off, “What’re you gonna do?”

  “I’ve got something planned,” Jo says.