by Jaleta Clegg
It didn't matter. I was free. I was going to die free. I stumbled across the sand. Another bout of pain sent me to my knees. I gasped and vomited. It was nothing but bile. I staggered back to my feet, determined to get far enough away that Luke couldn't possibly find me. I didn't want him to have the satisfaction of even finding my body.
I reached the far side of the gully and started up the bank on the other side. The rocks were sharp and bruising on my bare feet. The ground was rough. I stumbled and went down on one knee. I reached out without thinking and grabbed one of the weird plants. It was covered with stinging hairs. I jerked my hand back, tears in my eyes at the sudden sharp pain. I got back to my feet and kept going, pushing myself with everything I had left.
"Dace?"
I stopped at the top of the rise and closed my eyes against the pain. I couldn't have heard that voice, the one that still haunted my dreams. Tayvis wasn't here, he couldn't be here. I was hallucinating.
"Dace?"
His voice again, closer this time, his boots crunching across the loose rock. I didn't want this pain. Hadn't Shomies already won? Why was I torturing myself? Why wouldn't my heart let him go? I couldn't keep my eyes closed any longer. He was just a hallucination, but I couldn't not look. I turned my head towards his voice.
He stood not far away. He watched me, uncertain and vulnerable. The pain in his eyes was like a knife in my heart. I stared at him, drinking in every detail of his face. I didn't want to die alone. The vision my mind conjured up was going to have to be enough for me.
"I've got her, Clark," he said into a com unit fastened to one shoulder.
I blinked, confused. Why would my mind put him in a green shipsuit, one with a flaming bird on the shoulder? And why was he talking to Clark?
It didn't matter. It hurt too much, even if it wasn't real. I looked away, down at the ground and forced myself to keep stumbling forward.
I didn't make it far. Three steps and I fell onto my face. Pain shot through me, every muscle screaming. I felt a building cramp in my legs. I curled up on the ground and tried to just breathe.
Tayvis knelt beside me, dropping a rifle I hadn't noticed nearby. He slid one arm under me, lifting me off the rocky ground.
"Where are you hurt?" he asked urgently once he saw the blood streaked down the front of my tunic.
I stared at him in shock. He was warm. He was real. I wasn't hallucinating. I reached up to touch his face, to prove to myself he really was here.
"You came for me?" I whispered with what voice I had left.
He touched the collar on my neck. He looked sick. "Where are you hurt?" he asked again.
I wanted to answer that I was fine, now that he was here, but it was a lie. I was dying. I leaned against him, listening to his heart beat.
"Dace, what did she do to you?" he asked. He ran his hand over my middle, searching for the source of the blood.
"It isn't mine," I said.
"Then what?"
"Drugs," I said, my voice slurring. "I'm addicted to dreamdust."
The convulsion hit suddenly. I jerked violently, every muscle going into spasms. Tayvis pulled me close and held me tightly. It hurt but it felt good at the same time.
"What's wrong?" Clark asked as he came up to us. His boots sounded like gunshots in my ears.
"She went into convulsions," Tayvis answered. "I don't know what's wrong. I couldn't understand her."
Clark peeled back one of my eyelids and peered into my eye. He ran his hand over my neck, feeling for my pulse. Clark had med training somewhere in his background.
"She needs help and fast," Clark said. "Didn't you say Shomies specialized in drugs?"
"This isn't glitter or stardust," Tayvis said. "Dace wouldn't ever take anything like that."
"Unless she had no choice," Clark answered. "Let's get back to the flitter."
"The medunit in the ship can't handle this," Tayvis said. I heard the truth in his voice. I was going to die. He knew it. But he had come for me. It was enough. It had to be. It was all I had left.
"Let's go," Clark said.
The convulsions were lessening. Tayvis picked me up. I hung limp in his arms, too tired and in too much pain to say anything.
"Hang on, Dace," he whispered as he carried me across the rough ground.
I looked up, at the stars. It was enough, it had to be. Even if I still wanted more. I wasn't going to get it.
Tayvis paused, crouching behind a rock. He shifted me into a new position. He pressed my head against his shoulder. I was surprised to realize I was crying.
"I'm so sorry," he whispered into my hair. He kissed my forehead as he picked me up again.
I wanted to tell him I was sorry, too, that I forgave him everything. I couldn't make my mouth work. I could only try to fight the pain and hold on as long as I could.
"Almost there," Tayvis said as we crunched down the far side of another gully. Clark stayed near the top, one rifle slung over his shoulder, the other one held low ready to fire.
I could feel another convulsion building. My legs started twitching. Tayvis set me down next to a tiny flitter. He felt the tremors building in me and held me close again.
Clark came down to join us. He opened the door of the flitter and tossed the rifles inside. "No sign of pursuit. We should have just enough time to make it to the rendezvous point."
Tayvis held me while I jerked uncontrollably. I had so much I wanted to tell him. I silently cursed Pardui and her drug. It left me aware but unable to say anything. The pain ripped through me, over and over. I wasn't going to last much longer.
The convulsions finally slowed. Tayvis scooped me up and tucked me into the flitter on a small platform behind the two seats. He shoved the rifles out of the way and gently laid me down in the space. It wasn't very big. My legs were curled up. My head was behind Clark as he took the pilot's seat.
"Just hang on," Tayvis told me, a note of desperation creeping into his voice. He tucked a blanket around and under me, cushioning the worst of the bumps.
Clark didn't wait. He took us up into the air while Tayvis was turning around to sit in his own seat.
"We're going to have to fly low," Clark said. "We've got major activity overhead. Flip the lights off."
The inside of the flitter went dark except for the dim glow of the instrument panel. I closed my eyes. I was shivering now, burning and freezing at the same time. The swooping of the flitter made my stomach churn.
I was suddenly very sick. I threw up. It triggered another convulsion. Tayvis knelt backwards in his seat, holding me and trying to keep me from bumping into Clark. The pain went on and on. My muscles were screaming.
I tried to drag in a breath. My chest was tight. I wheezed and coughed. And threw up again, starting another round of spasms. Tayvis held me in place, his hands warm on my shoulder and hip.
The flitter swooped to one side. Something exploded outside.
"Someone found us," Clark said. "Hang on."
The flitter swerved on a crazy path. Tayvis smacked into the side of the flitter. I rolled helplessly. He braced himself, half climbing into the cargo space. He planted one arm behind my back, his other hand braced against the roof. Clark took us on a dive. I rolled forward, smashing into the back of the seats. It didn't help that I was almost doubled over with convulsions. Every muscle was cramping.
I dragged in a painful breath as Tayvis pulled me onto my back. He watched me with concern. I stared up at his face, wishing things were different. He leaned over me as Clark sent us into a steep climb. There were more explosions to either side of us as he swerved. I stared at the green suit Tayvis was wearing. He'd found the Phoenix. He'd joined the crew or Jasyn would never have let him wear it. I wanted to laugh and cry at the same time. I tried to breathe instead. Each breath was getting harder. I could feel my body shutting down. I dragged in a final breath.
I made the effort to speak using everything I had left. "I love you," I managed in a final whisper.
The world
was fading away. I let it slip.
Chapter 52
"Dace?" Tayvis asked, a rising note of panic in his voice. "She isn't breathing."
"Turn her head, make sure she isn't choking on anything," Clark answered. He was sweating as he tried to keep them out of the gunsights of the flitters chasing them. One hit and the tiny P387 would be nothing but scrap.
"Nothing but this collar," Tayvis answered. "Breathe for me, Dace." He was pleading, scared beyond reason. She couldn't be dead. He patted her cheek. "Come on, Dace."
"You took emergency rescue courses?" Clark asked.
"Of course," Tayvis snapped. He was trying to shake Dace, but gently. The shivering convulsions that had racked her had stopped. She lay limp and unmoving. Her lips were turning blue.
"Then use your head," Clark snapped back. "Breathe for her."
Tayvis swallowed hard, pushing away the panic. He cupped his hand behind her head, tilting her chin up. He leaned over her and breathed into her mouth. And again, and again. He tried to keep count, to keep it slow and steady. He was shaking too hard.
The flitter banked suddenly, throwing him to one side. He cracked his head against a bracing strut. He pulled Dace onto her back and started again.
"We aren't going to make it," Clark said. "There are too many of them. We're going to run out of fuel long before we get there."
"Come on, Dace." Tayvis silently begged her to not die as he breathed for her.
One of the flitters behind them exploded. Shards of metal scraped over their flitter. Clark fought the controls to keep them in the air.
"What in blazes?" he muttered.
A fighter screamed past, just missing them. He watched as it waggled side to side before climbing and turning back behind them. The com light on his board lit up. He punched it.
"…calling the little flitter. You want some help? Come in, please."
"Who are you?" Clark answered. "We'd love some help. Depending on who's offering."
"I don't think you can be choosy," the fighter pilot answered. "We'll keep you in the clear. Those bogies on your tail don't stand a chance. There's a transport waiting for you ten miles north."
Clark glanced over his shoulder at Tayvis. "We need medical assistance," Clark said into the com.
"That can be arranged. Go to the transport. We can transfer you there."
Tayvis shook his head. "She doesn't have that long."
"That's a negative," Clark answered into the com. "Does your ship have docking bays?"
"How do you think we get these fighters inside? Course it does."
"How low can they fly?" Clark asked.
Tayvis paused in his breathing. "What are you thinking?"
"Atmosphere is a negative for the mother bird. Your best bet is the transport. There are emergency medunits on board."
"We need a full crash team," Clark answered. "Have your mother ship get as low as she can."
"You're going to push a P387 into suborbital? You are insane." The pilot of the fighter tailing them chuckled. "But I already knew that. Is that you, Clark?"
"Who are you?" Clark demanded. He was already setting the engines for the massive push it would take them to reach suborbital velocities. It would burn what was left of their fuel. They had one shot.
"Squad Leader Branson at your service," the pilot answered. "Although most people call me Doggo. You've got a green light, Clark. I still say you're crazy. Better hold your breath."
"Just keep the bogies off my tail. It's good to hear your voice," Clark answered. He glanced back at Tayvis. "Are you ready?"
"Just go," Tayvis said. "I can't find a pulse." He gathered Dace into his arms, holding her tight against his chest.
Clark shoved the throttle as far as it would go. The tiny flitter leapt forward. He pulled back on the controls. The flitter lifted, rising into the night sky. The engine labored. The air screamed past.
"Change heading point six four to zenith," Doggo said. "You're clear on docking bay three." His fighter was right with them. "They have a trauma team standing by for you. Who needs it?"
"Dace," Clark answered. "And maybe us, depending on how well I can aim this thing."
"Roger that," Doggo answered.
Clark shoved the flitter engine controls hard, pulling as much power as he could. The smell of burning engine filled the compartment as the flitter strained to rise higher. The nose pointed almost straight up. He was shoved back in his seat. Tayvis slammed into the back wall. He held Dace against him, cushioning her as much as he could. She lay limp in his hold.
The sky outside faded to a sharper black as they pushed into the upper atmosphere. The air in the flitter was getting very thin. Air hissed out through the doorframe next to him. Clark did his best to keep breathing, slow and steady.
A huge shape filled the front windshield. He saw the blinking lights of a docking bay flashing an urgent red and yellow. He sucked in as much of a breath as he could, fighting to stay in control. He nudged the flitter to one side. It responded sluggishly. It wasn't designed to work in a vacuum. The nose was at an angle as he entered the docking bay. The bottom of the flitter hit the floor and scraped its way into the bay.
They were moving too fast. He had no way to slow them down. They slid and scraped and smashed their way past the hangar webbing. He slammed the emergency shut off for the engine. The flitter was still moving too fast. The end of the hangar bay was coming up fast.
Someone had snapped extra crash webbing into position for him. Workers scrambled out of the way, clumsy in their vacuum suits, as the tiny flitter slid closer.
They hit the webbing, slamming into it harder than it was designed to handle. Part of it broke away, wrapping around the flitter. They spun halfway around before the rest of the webbing pulled them to a stop. The workers scrambled towards them.
Clark felt the last of the air leaking away. He fought to stay awake. He watched as they dropped an emergency bubble over the flitter. Fresh air rushed into the ship, cracking the windshield.
He fumbled for his restraint buckle as the workers rushed into the inflated bubble through an airlock tube. They were carrying a stretcher.
Tayvis stirred behind him, kicking the door open. Clark flipped the latch on his door. It wouldn't open. He slammed his fist against it. The door was jammed in place. Tayvis climbed over the seat, lifting Dace with him. He backed out of the flitter.
The medical team swarmed over him, taking Dace out of his hold. They strapped her to the stretcher, attaching medical equipment even while they carried her away. Tayvis started after her. A tall man in a medic's uniform grabbed his shoulder, holding him back. Tayvis looked ready to fight him.
"Easy," the man said. "They'll take care of her. How are you doing?"
"I'm fine," Tayvis snapped. He tried to push past the man. His knees buckled. The medic caught him and eased him to the floor of the docking bay.
"That's a nasty bump on your head," the medic said in the kind of voice people used on strange dogs and wounded bears. "Let me check it out for you."
Tayvis gave in. His shoulders slumped in defeat. "She's dead, isn't she. She quit breathing. I couldn't find her pulse." He dropped his head into his hands and swallowed a sob.
"She's still alive," the medic assured him. "They're the best medics in this entire quadrant."
Tayvis shook his head.
Clark stumbled out of the flitter, holding his right arm against his chest. The medic glanced up at him. He pushed a com button on his shirt.
"I think we need another team in here," he said when someone answered. He grinned at Clark. "That was some flying."
"How is she?" Clark asked.
"Let's get the two of you patched up and we'll find out," the medic answered soothingly. "There's a treatment room just around the corner. Think you can walk?"
Tayvis sighed and got to his feet. He swayed dizzily. The medic caught him under his arm and held him upright.
Three more medics hurried into the bubble. One joined the
medic helping Tayvis walk out, the other two walked Clark out behind him.
* * *
Tayvis sat in the treatment room while they poked and prodded at him. One of the medics popped a mask over his face. Air blew gently over his mouth and nose.
"Just relax and breathe normally," the medic told him. "You've got a mild concussion. I'd take it easy for a few days. Other than a few bruises, that's it. Pretty remarkable."
Tayvis pulled the mask off. "Then I'm leaving. Where is she?"
"You aren't going anywhere for at least an hour," the medic answered. "She's just around the corner."
"And?" Tayvis demanded.
The medic moved Tayvis' hand away from the mask and put it back in place. "They're working on her. That's all I know."
Tayvis leaned back on the treatment bed. Dace had to still be alive. If she were dead, they wouldn't be working on her. He closed his eyes, breathing in the oxygen, waiting for the dizziness in his head to clear.
He did it as long as he could. He sat up and pulled the mask off again. The medic popped into his cubicle.
"I'm fine," Tayvis grumbled.
The medic snorted. "No, you aren't."
"Good enough," Tayvis said and stood. He had to catch himself on the edge of the bed until his head quit spinning.
"You should stay here for the night," the medic said. "But, I can see you aren't going to listen to me. There's a waiting room just around the corner. Try to get what rest you can."
Tayvis looked dumbly at him for a moment until his words made sense. The medic waited, watching him.
"Unless you'd rather stay here. We'll wake you if there's any change."
Tayvis shook his head and regretted it. The room started spinning again. He gritted his teeth until it passed. "I'll wait down the hall."