Donna just lay there, still and silent as ever. She had no answers or encouragement to offer from the depths of her coma.
"Maybe, if you were awake, you could talk me through this," said Scott. "Or at least make me feel better. You've been great at that since Day One."
Again, she had nothing to offer. Just another dead end.
Scott sighed and sat back, holding on to her hand. It was warm and pulsing with blood, with all the heat and force of life--but none of the animation. Without movement or voice to interact with, she might as well have been another piece of furniture.
Disheartened, Scott slumped in his chair. A wave of hopelessness rolled through him, dragging him down. The future of the quadrant rested squarely on his shoulders, and he felt like the weight was crushing him. He was tired of thinking about it, tired of trying so hard to stop it from coming down around him.
He was just plain tired. Before long, his eyes flickered shut, and he started to drift off. His brain disconnected from consciousness, and dreamlike images passed before his mind's eye.
At first, the images focused on Donna, but she wasn't in bed in the medicenter. She was down on Shard, sharing the cockpit of Scott's Battlenaut, squeezed next to him on the pilot's couch. She and Scott were laughing and kissing as they unleashed one volley after another from the Battlenaut's guns, firing again and again at an unidentified target.
Then, suddenly, Scott was outside the Battlenaut, standing directly in its line of fire. As laser blasts and barrages of slugs poured toward him, he ran, barely getting out of the way in time.
Somehow, as he ran, he knew Donna was still doing the shooting. He couldn't see inside the cockpit or hear her voice over the comm, but he knew she was trying to kill him.
He also knew he wasn't on Shard anymore. The planet's surface had changed from silver metal to dirt and rock in all shades of brown. When the Battlenaut's guns churned up clouds from the ground around him, the dust was dark brown, and the chips of rock were pale tan.
Panting for breath, Scott raced across the plain as fast as he could, running serpentine patterns to evade the Battlenaut's fire. As fast as he ran, though, the long strides of Donna's Battlenaut were closing the gap between them.
Scott ran harder. A missile flashed past, barely missing him, and he bolted left--right into the path of another missile. This time, the hurtling object clipped his head, sending him spinning to the ground.
Scott tumbled head over heels three times before he came to a stop. Dazed, he sat up and looked around, poised to leap into action. He stuck his right arm behind him to prop himself up--and the arm kept going, passing through thin air.
Crying out, he caught himself with his left hand, holding on to a rocky ledge. It was then he saw that he was on the brink of a sheer drop. He'd barely saved himself from a fall of thousands of meters straight down.
Gasping, he scrambled away from the ledge, but he didn't get far. The Battlenaut with Donna inside was standing ten meters away, pointing an array of weapons right at him.
With the ledge behind him and the Battlenaut in front, Scott had nowhere to run. As the weapons aimed at him started to hum in preparation for firing, he took a deep breath and clenched his fists, getting ready to die.
That was when a mysterious figure leaped down out of nowhere, grabbed him under his arms, and vaulted away with him in its grip. As Scott's feet left the ground, Donna's Battlenaut's weapons pounded the spot he'd just occupied, chewing it into smoking rubble.
"Who are you?" Scott craned his head for a glimpse of his rescuer's face but couldn't make it out in the shadows of the hooded cloak he was wearing. "Tell me your name."
The rescuer said nothing. He just went on soaring through the sky, dodging weapons fire cast up from behind by Donna's Battlenaut.
Unable to see the face of whoever was carrying him, Scott turned his attention to the scenery sliding by far below. Only then did he realize he was somewhere different.
The vast brown plain had become a gigantic canyon, sprawling to the horizon and beyond. It was like a gaping maw carved into the ground, deep and broad enough to contain multitudes and swallow up the world in its entirety. A skyscraping crag towered at its heart, jabbing upward like a slender, jagged thorn.
Scott felt dizzy as his savior flew him over the hungry vastness. He was terrified of it for some reason, though he'd never been afraid of heights. It was as if all the darkness in his life had gathered down there like a thick black fog, clutching at his soul to drag it down and hold it fast forever.
"I want to go," he told his rescuer. "I want to get away from here."
It was then that they froze in midflight, hovering high above the canyon. The rescuer said something as he lifted him up, and his voice sounded like the voice of a little boy.
Then, he dropped him.
Scott plummeted face-first toward the mammoth canyon below, but he didn't scream. He just watched as the dark depths raced up toward him, looking more and more familiar the closer they got.
Until, finally, he recognized them. All at once, he knew exactly where he was and why he'd felt dizzy and afraid.
It was all because he was plunging into the Iridess Chasm on Tack, where he'd suffered and died. The towering crag flashing by in the heart of it was Penitent Peak.
Suddenly, something flipped him around to face upward, and the man in the cloak was there above him. With a sound like a little boy laughing, he pulled back his hood, exposing his features for Scott to see.
At first, the man's face was that of the Red pilot, with his cobalt blue eyes, blonde hair, and angular nose and cheekbones. But as Scott watched, the face compressed, becoming rounder and softer. The eyes grew larger, the hair thicker, the head smaller. He still had the body of a grown man, but his face became that of a child.
A child glaring at him with blistering, naked rage.
It was then that Scott was struck by the shock of full recognition. His heart hammered in his chest as he realized who the child was, who he'd become...and where they'd met.
The sky was lit with bursts of lightning all around. The wind whooshed past as Scott plunged downward, rocketing toward the floor of the chasm. The boy in the cloak said something, but he couldn't hear it.
Then, the boy lashed out with his fist, which was the size of a man's, and plowed it into Scott's face. Scott's head whipped to one side; he felt bones break and teeth break free from the impact.
The boy hit him again, flinging his head to the other side. Scott lost more teeth and felt hot blood fill his mouth.
Before the boy hit him again, he said something else, and Scott heard him this time. It was a single word, a name--and Scott didn't have to search his mind to connect with it. He knew it all too well.
Vore.
He said it aloud himself, through shattered teeth and bloody lips--a word that had haunted his every bad dream for years--but he said it as a question.
And when the boy heard it, he howled with rage and hit him again. Not that the pain much mattered, because both of them were about to hit the chasm floor at a high rate of speed. Scott sensed it racing up to meet them like a battering ram, as if propelled by rocket engines from below. Any second now, it would turn them into pulp.
Any second now, it would finish the job it had started thirteen years ago.
In the face of impending oblivion, Scott screamed his lungs out, screamed for all he was worth. He thrashed and kicked like a lunatic, as if somehow that would gain him purchase against the fall.
Then, at the height of his screaming and thrashing, he felt someone squeeze his hand...squeeze it so hard, it felt like it might break.
Spurred by the pain of that squeeze, he snapped out of the nightmare. He stopped screaming, and his eyes shot open, revealing the medicenter around him.
Panting and soaked with sweat, Scott slumped against the chair. He looked around to see who'd awakened him--and it was then he realized he was alone.
Except for Donna.
Just then,
the medicenter door swept open, and Nurse Tourmal entered the room. "What the hell?" He frowned at Scott. "Are you all right?"
Scott sat up and nodded. "She squeezed my hand." He looked at Donna. "She squeezed it hard."
Tourmal checked the holographic readouts hovering over her, then marched to the foot of the bed, where her chart appeared. "I don't see any change."
"But it's still a good sign, right?"
"Absolutely." The way Tourmal said it made Scott think it wasn't such a good sign after all.
The truth was, Donna didn't look any different than before Scott had dozed off. She lay there in a state of near total stillness, eyes closed, chest rising and falling gently. When Scott squeezed her hand, she didn't squeeze back.
But he knew what he'd felt. He knew she's pulled him out of his nightmare before he could crash to the chasm floor.
He knew she was coming back.
For now, though, he couldn't stay by her side. Now, with the face and name from his dream still echoing in his head, he had business elsewhere. He had the information he'd been searching for; now, he had to put it to use.
"I have to go." He leaped out of his chair and ran for the door.
"Are you sure?" said Tourmal. "You're flushed and soaking wet. You might have a fever."
"Let me know if her condition changes," said Scott as the door slid open before him. "I want to know immediately."
"At least let me do a quick exam," said Tourmal. "It'll only take a minute."
Scott paused at the threshold and shook his head grimly. "I don't have a minute."
"Well, you should take one." Tourmal scowled. "At least tell me where I can reach you."
"The brig," said Scott, and then he bolted out the door and down the corridor.
*****
Chapter 23
There were three armed and body-armored guards in the brig when Scott charged through the door. Instantly, all their rifles swung around to point in his direction.
Scott stopped and raised his hands in front of him. "Stand down," he said. "I need to meet with the prisoner."
The middle guard tapped the side of his helmet, and glowing text flowed down the faceplate in a long column. "You're not on the schedule, sir."
"Doesn't matter." Scott lowered his hands. "This is a crucial matter of Commonwealth security."
"You'll need authorization from Major Perseid or Captain Rexis," said the middle guard. "Our orders are clear."
"I can't wait for that," said Scott. "I need to get in there now."
"No can do," said the guard. "Come back with proper authorization, sir."
Scott took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Okay, listen up." He stepped forward until the barrels of all three rifles were centimeters from his chest and shoulders. "After days of banging my head against the wall, I finally have a lead on this prisoner's identity. Do you really think it would be wise not to act on this lead immediately? Do you want to be the one to tell Major Perseid that you kept me waiting while the entire Commonwealth remains at risk from that man's allies?"
The middle guard thought about it for a long moment. "We have our orders. If something happens to the prisoner, we'll be on the..."
"Nothing's going to happen to him," said Scott. "I'm the one who captured him. I'm the only one who can see one hundred percent of him all the time! He's my responsibility."
Jaws clenched, the guard stared him in the eye from behind his faceplate...then lowered his rifle. "I'm personally calling Captain Rexis the minute you step in there."
"Good enough." Scott nodded. "Knock yourself out."
The other two guards lowered their rifles and stepped aside, clearing the way to the cell door. Scott walked toward it without hesitation, rushing into a confrontation which for thirteen years he'd never imagined would be possible.
*****
"Again with the not knocking," said the pilot when Scott entered the darkened cell. "Didn't anyone ever teach you manners?"
"Lights on full." As soon as Scott said it, the overhead lights flashed up to full strength. It was then he saw the pilot lying on his cot across the room, shielding his eyes with his arm. The bedclothes were no longer scattered on the floor; he had put them back on the mattress and was lying on them.
"Thanks a lot!" snapped the pilot. "You could at least have left them at half-strength!"
Scott ignored his complaint. "I thought you were dead."
"Because my eyes were closed?" said the pilot. "It's called sleeping."
"For the past thirteen years, I thought you were dead," said Scott. "I thought you died at Iridess Chasm."
"Ah." The pilot sat up and rolled his legs off the side of the cot. "You've guessed, haven't you?"
"Cairn," said Scott. "Your name is Cairn."
"Finally." Cairn grinned. "It took you long enough." He got to his feet. "I was starting to think you'd never figure it out."
Scott was torn between shock, confusion, and anger. "But how? How is it you're still alive?"
"Good question," said Cairn. "I might ask the same of you." He pointed an index finger at Scott. "But I already know, don't I? Vore told me all about your death and resurrection."
"Vore?" Scott frowned. "But I thought..."
"That he fell to his death when I pushed him off Penitent Peak?" Cairn shook his head slowly. "Guess again, Sol."
Scott was slammed by a fresh wave of shock. It was hard enough believing that Cairn had survived that terrible day. Hearing that Vore--the man who'd kidnapped them both back on Tack--had also survived was almost too much to take.
"He was wearing an antigrav vest," said Cairn. "Doesn't it figure, as prepared as he was?"
Scott just stared at him. The story of the single worst day in his life was changing by the minute--if Cairn was to be believed.
"When I pushed him, he dragged me down with him," said Cairn. "What you didn't see--because you were bleeding out on the ledge at the time--was how he activated his antigrav vest fifty meters from the chasm floor and pulled us up at the last minute."
Scott kept staring. "But I never knew. Nobody did. Neither of you was ever found."
"Because we went off the grid," said Cairn. "Just like before, when you were with us, when he first took you. We went underground."
"Oh my God." The implications sank in quickly, leaving Scott even more stunned.
"Not that you ever looked real hard for me," said Cairn.
"How could I?" said Scott. "I didn't know you were alive!"
Cairn narrowed his eyes. "But you knew what that monster was like. You knew how tricky he could be." His voice rose with building anger. "You can't tell me you never thought we might have survived. You can't say you never thought I might still be out there somewhere."
Scott knew he had no reason to be ashamed...but he still felt that way. Cairn was getting to him. "How long were you with Vore after that?"
Cairn laughed bitterly. "Does it matter? Does it really matter?" He laughed again. "Forever."
Years of servitude to a psychopathic predator. Scott had only been with him a few days, and it had been bad enough. "I always thought...if you were dead, at least you were free of him."
"Yeah, Sol." Cairn sneered. "That was something you promised to help me with, remember? Getting free? As long as I helped you?"
Scott nodded. He and Cairn had made a pact on that long-ago night in the Iridess Chasm. They had pledged to join forces to escape--and at first, it had worked. Scott had hit Vore over the head with a rock, then run for his life with Cairn by his side. Unfortunately, Vore had not stayed down for long; he'd chased them for miles through the winding arroyos and tunnels of the chasm, then followed them up the steep slopes of Penitent Peak. When Vore had caught up with them, he'd beaten Scott brutally, stopping only when Cairn charged across the ledge and knocked him over the brink.
Scott had thought of that moment often in the years since, and it had given him many nightmares. Again and again, the sight of Cairn tackling Vore over the edge had come b
ack to him, clear as day...but he'd never imagined for even an instant that Cairn was still alive. He'd never truly thought he was still suffering at the hands of Vore or some other human monster, desperately in need of rescue.
But there he was. And he wasn't happy.
"You did help me," said Scott. "And I can never thank you enough. But you've got to believe me--I thought you were dead."
"You wanted to think that," snapped Cairn. "You wanted to move on and forget what you'd been through. You didn't want to think about the abduction or Vore or me or any of it. And it worked out pretty well for you, didn't it? Until now."
Scott shook his head, but he knew Cairn was right about some of it. Of course Scott had wanted to forget and move on; it was either that, or dwell on what had happened and let it ruin his life.
But Cairn was dead wrong about the rest. "It didn't work out well for me. My life has been a constant struggle." Churning with emotion, Scott raised his voice and lurched a step closer to Cairn. "Not a day goes by that I don't think about what happened--or remember that scared seven-year-old kid who went over the cliff to save me."
Cairn waved him off with disgust. "You're full of scudge, you know that? You'll say anything to dig yourself out from under."
Scott took another step toward him. "Don't you ever presume to tell me how I feel or what my life has been like."
"Flux you," said Cairn, but he backed down a little. Whipping around, he stomped over to a corner of the cell and punched the wall.
Meanwhile, Scott took a deep breath and tried to calm down. He wasn't going to get anywhere by having a screaming match with Cairn. Better to stay in control, to be the one pushing Cairn's buttons instead of vice versa. "So how did you get away?"
Cairn kept facing the wall while he spoke. "From where?"
"From Vore," said Scott. "How did you get away?"
"Who said I ever did?" Cairn braced himself against the corner, shoulders rising and falling. After a long moment, he turned back to face Scott. "Hey, remember what he used to say? About the monster saying hello?"
Resist the Red Battlenaut Page 15