He stopped and looked up at Grimshaw from his clipboard. He leaned forward. “What happened on Gorthore?”
“I gave you all I got,” Grimshaw spat, getting fed up. “I mean, I could tell you how many times I pissed in my suit and that one time I think I shit myself.”
“What happened inside the Krag regeneration pod?”
“Everything after that is…broken. Like bits of a dream that don’t make sense or a jigsaw puzzle with half the pieces missing. What more do you want?”
He looked at me for a long moment as though trying to work out whether I was being honest.
He finally returned to his clipboard.
“How many Team Zeta members survived the attack on Gorthore?”
The question drove a burning lance through his chest. He drew a deep breath. “Just me.”
“Are you certain?”
“What kind of question is that? I watched my friends die on that mission, you asshole. Of course I’m certain.”
“What about your commanding officer, Sergeant Richards?”
“Dead like the others,” he snapped trying not to lose his cool entirely.
“You saw him die?”
“No. We split up in the temple to cover more ground. I went right. Sarge went left. I heard gunfire from his direction. If he encountered Krags, he died.”
“You didn’t see a body, though, did you?”
“Aren’t you listening? I said I went the other way. It was a damn maze inside that place. I didn’t know where I was going or what I was even looking for. I found another beacon deeper inside. I thought it was a trap, but I followed it carefully. Turned out it was Perez. When things outside went south, he made a run for it.”
He looked a little surprised at that. “Go on.”
“He said the voices called him into the temple. Told him where to go…” Grimshaw’s words trailed off.
“What happened when you met up with him?”
“He blew his own brains out with his sidearm. The Krags heard the gunshot and flooded the chamber we were in. I locked myself inside the regeneration pod. I fell asleep. Honestly, I thought that was the end of me. Last thing I expected was to wake up here.”
“You don’t remember anything between getting inside the pod and waking up here?”
“I dreamed about floating lights and stars. Nightmares about Gorthore played over and over again. Other than that, nothing.”
“You were on Gorthore for close to a year, and you’re telling me you remember none of it?”
The room went white for a second and Grimshaw almost blacked out. Blood rushed through his ears with a hiss. He grabbed the metal rail on the side of the bed to stay tethered to reality. “I was there for…how long?”
“You were on Gorthore for eleven months by the time our transport picked you up. So you really don’t remember…Interesting.” He scribbled something with his pen.
Grimshaw could hardly believe his ears. “I thought I was in a coma for six months.”
“On Earth, yes. Before fetching you, the Confederation Fleet received communications bearing a Confederation signature. They thought it was a trap at first, but the Kragak sent a delegation, insisting that a transport be sent to retrieve an ill Marine. That Marine was you. Any idea who sent the original message?”
Grimshaw was still coming to terms with the news that he’d lost a year and a half to nothingness.
The agent worked on his SIG and a video played on the television screen on the wall. “The transporter that extracted you took this footage.”
The scene playing took place at nighttime. Sharp lights cut through the dark, illuminating a clearing surrounded by thick growth. The stark contrast created by the transport lights made for poor quality, but it was Gorthore alright. A figure in a hooded cloak and two Kragak warriors pushed a hovering platform out of the trees. An unconscious figure lying on the platform was hooked up to what looked like medical equipment. The Kragak and hooded figure pulled back into the jungle as the cot carrying the patient drifted closer to the transport. Grimshaw was pretty sure the unconscious patient was him.
“Do you recognize the hooded figure?”
“No.”
Grimshaw suddenly realized where he remembered the agent’s face. He had appeared in one of the dreams about the surgery.
So that was real…at least in part. Why doesn’t he want me to know about that?
Something was going on, but he was in no position to figure out what that something was, and his gut told him that asking too many sensitive questions would only lead to trouble.
However, he decided to test the agent a little.
“Didn’t you get all the answers you needed from my Fury Drive?”
One of his eyes twitched slightly.
“Why would you say that?”
“It was the secondary objective in the mission briefing is all.”
“Well, that’ll be all,” the agent said with a smile a man would give upon meeting his best friend at a bar for beer.
He packed his things and made to leave.
“I didn’t get your name,” Grimshaw said as the door opened.
The agent turned to him with a smile. “It was a pleasure speaking with you, Corporal.”
With that, he was gone.
Grimshaw sank back into his pillows and used the controls to lower the top half of the bed until he lay flat. He was glad to see the back of the agent, though he kicked himself for not having the balls to prod deeper with questions of his own. Then again, a CID agent would hardly have given him answers. The guy wouldn’t even share his name. They were trying to keep a secret, and he suspected it had something to do with the missing time he spent on Gorthore. But why didn’t they want him to know? And how far were they willing to go to keep it a secret?
Such debriefing sessions were standard procedure after an operation like that Team Zeta conducted on Gorthore. But they were usually conducted by a Confederation Fleet officer or a fellow Marine. Something else was going on, and he could almost feel it in the depths of his mind.
He wasn’t sure he even wanted to know what had happened during his missing year and a half. Had he spent the guts of a year on Gorthore in a coma too? It seemed plausible. He was unconscious and hooked up to a mobile medical cot when the transport finally extracted him.
Part of him wanted to piece those fragments together. A larger part of him wanted to forget everything entirely.
His hand started to shake. He turned his mind to other matters. He clearly wasn’t ready to deal with what had happened. He turned on the television and flicked through various news channels. He had quite a bit of catching up to do.
The friendly orderly showed up later with a cup of warm tea.
Grimshaw was never a fan of tea, but it turned out to be the best damned hot drink he’d ever had.
8
Crazy Train
Gunshots broke out in his dreams. He opened his eyes to find himself back in the hospital room. Someone knocked on the door.
The outline of Nurse Cynthia entered. His eyesight had returned to normal, but he still had sleep in his eyes. The drugs also took their toll.
“I’ll only be a minute, Corporal,” she said in her usual apologetic tone when she came in at night to take his readings.
She moved about with practiced efficiency, checking his levels and his charts.
“How are you feeling?”
“Restless,” Grimshaw said. “Can’t wait to get out.”
She came to the bedside and looked him over before feeling his forehead. It felt good to be touched by another human.
“Well, you are looking much better,” she said.
“Sore throat is gone. Still wobbly on my feet, but I can move my arms and legs for the most part.”
“How are you sleeping?”
“Badly since they took away the morphine,” he said, hoping the desperation in his voice would prompt her to give him more.
“Another day or two and we can get you o
ut of that bed and onto the therapy ward.” She sounded a little disappointed by the prospect.
“Ah, I’m sure you’re sick of looking at me by now,” he said.
She looked at him for a long second. “You’re one of the better patients, Corporal.” Her smile touched her eyes and she looked away, getting all bashful.
“And you are most definitely the best nurse around here, but don’t tell Margery I said that or she might try to force-feed me dry toast again.”
They shared a laughed.
Grimshaw was starting to feel antsy about being confined to such a small room. He looked forward to getting onto a proper ward and seeing more people. The only folks he’d seen since waking were medical personnel and the guy from the CID. He’d tried to leave his room only to find he was under guard…not a prisoner as such, someone somewhere considered him a threat. The nurses tried feeding him some mumbo-jumbo about quarantine, but he’d been to space enough times to know about quarantine procedure, even if he never had been on an uncharted planet like Gorthore before. He couldn’t wait to get out of hospital, and if moving to another ward was a step in that direction, he’d take it.
But part of him would miss Nurse Garcia. She was good natured, and kind, and easy on the eyes. But she also had a wicked sense of humor and an independent spirit. In another place and time, perhaps he would have asked her for her SIG number.
“Well, your levels are looking good,” she said looking him in the eyes.
He nodded and smiled. “If that means I get out of here soon then I’m glad to hear it.”
Cynthia cleared her throat. “How are you feeling about visitors?”
“I’ve only had the one so far?”
“Are you up for another?”
“Not if it’s that CID asshole again.”
She laughed. “Actually, Admiral Axton is waiting outside.”
Grimshaw’s eyes almost popped out of his head. “You mean the Admiral Axton they call the Iron Hill?”
“The very same. He’s a lovely little man. He was happy to wait until I took your readings.”
“Then hell yeah. Send him on in.” Grimshaw could hardly believe it.
Cynthia bade him a nice morning and left.
A burly man in a white and navy uniform walked into the room. Admiral Axton was a little on the short side, but he cast a big shadow.
The fact that Admiral Axton stood before him took Grimshaw a while to absorb. He carried a cap under one arm. His mustache still had a little color and he had narrow, calculating eyes. He looked pretty good for someone in their hundreds.
“Sorry, sir,” Grimshaw said, raising his bed and straightening himself. “I’ve forgotten myself.”
“At ease, Marine. No need for formalities here.”
Grimshaw relaxed somewhat, but he still had that uptight feeling that came with being in the presence of greatness.
Admiral Axton of Fleet Six, wow.
“Admiral Axton…It’s an honor, sir.”
“The honor is all mine, son.” He walked to the side of the bed. “Speaking of honor.”
He lifted the frame containing the medal of honor and regarded it for a moment before putting it back exactly the way it was.
“I and the crew of the SS Orion thank you and your squad for your service.”
“We were doing jobs, sir. Any Marine would have done the same.”
“It’s a pity the rest of your squad didn’t make it, son. We could sure use more heroes like you in this brave new world.” He said the word brave with unbridled sarcasm.
Sorrow suddenly washed over Grimshaw. “What exactly happened on Gorthore, sir? I can’t get a straight answer out of anyone.”
Admiral Axton rubbed the back of his neck. “Fleet Six executed the attack as planned. We recovered one of the pods after. As far as we can tell, you and at least three others on Team Zeta made it into that temple. After we launched the diversion, we flew a drone over. Scans picked up four TEK beacons inside the temple. Shortly after, the Krags mounted a full counter-attack. They drove our ground forces back to their drop zones. Few made it back to the fleet. Three dreadnoughts tore through Fleet Six. The Orion was running on auxiliary with hull breaches on almost every deck. The dreadnoughts came around for another attack and I knew we were goners. Suddenly, the Krag pulled back, warning us to leave before they finished the job. They didn’t have to tell me twice. I’d lost half my ships and more than half my people at that point. We left Krag space, wondering what happened.”
“Whatever happened in the temple worked,” Grimshaw whispered.
“It sure did. We suspected the virus to deal a fatal blow, but we didn’t expect it to be so sudden. The Kragak pulled their forces out of Confederation space almost immediately. They went from all out war to utter silence in almost a heart beat. The Confederation sent scouts to gather intel, but they didn’t want to probe too far in case they disturbed the hornets nest.”
“They told me I was on Gorthore for the guts of a year. What happened?”
“I’m afraid I can’t answer that one, son. The deep-space communication request from the Kragak caught us off guard. We suspected a trap. But a small Confederation transport was sent to meet one of theirs near the border. What exactly happened during the exchange remains classified. The next thing I know, high command are breathing down my neck, ordering that an extraction team be sent back to Gorthore to fetch you. I have to admit, I didn’t believe you were alive until I saw you with my own eyes.”
“There were no other survivors…from Team Zeta, I mean?”
Admiral Axton slowly shook his head. “Two Kragak warriors brought you to the extraction ship. As far as we know you’re the only one that made it, son. There was another figure with the Kragak that night. But we don’t even know if it was human. The medical team tried getting info out of you, but you were out cold. They decided it was best to keep you asleep until they could get you to a proper medical facility. Good thing too. Turns out you needed surgery.”
The Admiral tapped the back of his head.
Grimshaw felt the scars where his Fury Drive was installed. A rapid series of broken memories flashed through his mind. A circle of lights. A man with bushy eyebrows in a mask. Jumbled voices using medical jargon. The smell of disinfectant.
“Was there something wrong with my implant?” It explained the headaches and why he couldn’t remember much about the attack on Gorthore.
Admiral Axton shrugged. “The scans my medical team took showed your implant had fused with your brain, but your life signs all seemed fine. High Command wanted you kept under, however, to be on the safe side.”
Grimshaw hung his head for a second before looking back up at the Admiral again. “I suppose it doesn’t really matter. I’m lucky to be alive. A lot of good people died on Gorthore.”
“And Earth will always remember. Unfortunately, half the good people still alive in the Confederation are headed for the Galactic Sentinel.”
“The Sentinel has opened its space to humans?”
“They’ve given us a place on the Galactic Council, and you played no small part in it. Admiral Foster moves his fleet to Sentinel space as we speak. He’s among those the Confederation pledged to the Sentinel. He’ll be retiring soon. Lucky old sod.” He chuckled. “Or unlucky, depending on how you look at it.”
An awkward silence suddenly made the small hospital room feel so much bigger.
“With all due respect, sir…Why do I get the feeling you aren’t here to catch me up on politics?”
Admiral Axton stared Grimshaw deep in the eyes and sighed.
“With everything changing, I need someone to help me with Fleet Academy Four.”
“The new academy out on the Fringe?”
“That’s the one. Most of the officers shipped out with the station getting a full refit. We expect her to be fully operational again within a year. But we need good people to make that happen if you’re interested.”
The Admiral produced a compad from inside h
is white coat and passed it to Grimshaw.
He read the assignment summary.
“It’s an administrative role, sir. I hope I don’t sound too brash when I say I’m a Marine. Not a desk jockey.”
“And your combat experience will be invaluable to the cadets. You’ll receive the rank of Lieutenant Commander. It’ll pay better than you can hope for otherwise.” His eyes looked to the door for a second.
“What do you mean by that, sir?”
He looked around as if expecting someone might be listening in on them. “Off the record. I know the CID paid you a visit recently. They want to keep tabs on you, and don’t want you leaving Earth if they can help it. They’ve got the Confederation in their pockets and have convinced them to give you an honorable discharge. Next thing you know, the CID will offer you a job so they can keep a leash on you. That’ll likely come with a desk too. Think of my offer as a lifeline.”
Grimshaw was taken aback by the revelation, but part of him wasn’t surprised. His head reeled with questions and he didn’t even know where to begin in terms of making a decision. “This is all a bit much, sir. I mean, I guess I knew deep down I couldn’t just carry on as before, but…”
Words failed him.
“Listen, son. I know it’s a lot to take on board, and I would have waited for a better time if I wasn’t shipping out in two days.”
“You mean for me to go with you in two days?”
He nodded.
“That doesn’t leave me a lot of time to consider your proposal.”
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