Blue Sky Tomorrows

by L. J. Hachmeister

  Cam didn’t know what to say, or to do as Reppen stepped inside and headed toward the pump.

  “Wait—what’s happening?” he asked, sitting up too quickly. The sheet covering his arm and the syringe fell down, but he snatched it up and curled up on his side.

  Reppen didn’t look at him, keeping her eyes trained on the pump. “Stay calm, cadet.”

  “What happened to Iggie?” he insisted. “What is that doctor doing to her? Is she in trouble?”

  Bending over, Reppen fiddled with the keypad, then eyed the door before answering. “Asking questions will get you in trouble.”

  “Just like checking social media and newsfeeds on duty?”

  The nurse paused, her breath catching. “What?”

  Cam watched her tense, her expression hardening as her hands retracted from the pump. She’s afraid. But why?

  That news feed— “Sightings of Deadwalkers Near Homeworlds Raises Concern”—she didn’t want me to see that.

  And Iggie, her ramblings about a machine monster; his nightmares of a red eye burning in gray flesh. The connection, just out of his reach, nagged at his gut.

  “I need to get out of here,” Cam whispered.

  “You do,” Reppen said, straightening up. “I’m trying to help you.”

  Cam eyed the pump. “This stuff keeps me asleep. I don’t want to sleep anymore. I need to get back to training.”

  “This medication is repairing your nerve damage.”

  “But I don’t like my dreams,” Cam said. He watched her closely, playing his only card. “I’ve seen monsters.”

  “Monsters?”

  “A machine monster,” he whispered.

  The nurse stiffened. “It’s just a dream.”

  “Help me,” Cam said, sensing something more to her discomfort as she glanced at the doorway. “I don’t know what’s happening.”

  Cam watched her response. Reppen, a young nurse with a pretty face and the pinched-up ears of some kind of human-hybrid, should sedate him right then until she could bring the doctor in and discuss his behavior, and file a report to their academy superiors. Instead, she looked at him with familiarity and consideration, something the Academy, especially the Dominion Core, should have eradicated in her training days.

  “It’s this war,” she said, voice pitched just above a whisper. “Hatred, fear, violence—that’s nothing new. But what this conflict has driven people to do, how it’s being fought…”

  She drifted off, her line of sight dropping to her feet.

  What? In space? On the ground? Cam didn’t understand what made this stupid war different from any of the other ones fought over the last million years, aside from the advances in weaponry and technology.

  “It’s not right,” she whispered, voice quavering. “Some prices should never be paid, even in the name of freedom or justice.”

  “Is it the telepaths?” he asked.

  “Not exactly,” she muttered. Realizing herself, she ran her hand through her dark hair and cleared her throat, regaining her composure. “Look, I have a nephew your age. He’s not a soldier, and neither are you. You’re a kid, you should be a kid. This place shouldn’t have you.”

  “It doesn’t have me,” he affirmed.

  Reppen sported a humoring smile. “You don’t have any family, do you?”

  It took everything he had to keep from shouting. “What’s that got to do with anything?”

  “Everything, at least to the ones that make decisions around here.”

  Reppen got up and pressed the start button on the pump. “Heal fast, cadet.”

  “Wait—I thought you wanted to help me,” he said, grabbing her arm as she turned to leave. The skin-to-skin contact lit his nerves afire, but he held fast until she gently removed his hand from her arm.

  “I do. Sleep, recover. And whatever you do, stay out of the east wing.”

  As she walked out, Cam pretended to rest his head on his pillow and drift off, in case she looked back to ensure the efficacy of the new dosing. But even as he feigned sleep, his mind latched on to the last six words she spoke: “…stay out of the east wing.”

  Why would she say that? It made no sense; not when he couldn’t walk more than a few feet in sheer agony, and she’d just upped his dosing, expecting for him to—

  She knows.

  He looked down, seeing the end of the syringe poking out of the sheet. When he grabbed her, it must have slipped.

  But she didn’t do anything about it.

  Cam didn’t adjust the sheet, allowing his secret to remain exposed. Then I have to do something about it.

  But what?

  I have to get stronger, fast.

  He looked at the pump. Reppen upped the dose. “This medication is repairing your nerve damage.”

  This is the only chance I have.

  Cam unscrewed the semi-full syringe and limped over to the sink, dumping and rinsing out the contents. Before getting back into bed, he unclamped the silver tool and placed both devices back where he found them.

  Chak. The datapad. He hesitated as he removed it from under his pillow, noting to the 5% remaining battery life. In the end, it wouldn’t serve him to have a dead datapad, but he could figure out something else with it. Leaning over the siderail, ribs screaming, he dropped the device under the bed to make it look like an accident. So at least I won’t get in trouble.

  As the medication flowed back into his veins, Cam stared up at the ceiling, at the light-controlled panels on the dimmest setting. Thirty seconds later, his vision wobbled, and he couldn’t stay focused on any particular fixture.

  Get stronger, he vowed, allowing the medication to take hold, mitigating the fires raging across his body. As he drifted off, he thought of the machine man, of Iggie’s terror, and the battles still ahead.

  Rogman, he thought, unsure if he imagined the shadowed figure standing in his doorway, what horrible secrets do you keep?

  Chapter 14

  When Jahx came back the next day, he stirred to the boy’s touch.

  “You okay, or should I come back tomorrow?” Jahx whispered, resting his hand on Cam’s shoulder.

  “No,” Cam said, sliding himself up with a grunt. Head spinning, he motioned to the supply cart. Somehow, without explaining himself, Jahx figured out what he wanted and brought him back the syringe and clamp.

  With fuzzy fingers he rigged the medication diversion and waited until his head cleared.

  “How’d you come up with that?”

  “Just got lucky,” Cam remarked, rubbing his eyes and stretching out his legs. Then, as he scratched an itch on his neck, he realized that he didn’t hurt. At least not as much. His nerves still tingled and burned, but the fierceness to the fires had dissipated.

  Jahx pulled up the work stool next to Cam’s bed and dropped an armload of datapads on the adjacent tray table. “You look better.”

  Cam regarded his skin. Faded pink and red spidery splotches still covered his arms and legs, but the optimism in Jahx’s eyes challenged the ugliness he still felt. “Thanks. I feel…”

  He didn’t know what to say. Weak and useless came to mind.

  “…like you need to get out of here?”

  “Yeah, for sure,” Cam said, shying away from Jahx’s smile. “You… you look different.”

  “I know,” Jahx said, tugging on the front of his uniform jacket. It strained at the shoulders and arms, as if he’d grown a few centimeters in width and height overnight. “I know me and my sisters are eating all the time now, but I never expected to grow out so fast.”

  Cam tilted his head, trying to remember Jahx’s age and race. Human…and five? That can’t be right. Now with how big he looked now. If he didn’t know any better, he’d guess Jahx closer to his age. Especially the way he talks and thinks.

  Something didn’t add up, but Cam didn’t know what any of it meant.

  “I don’t like it,” Jahx said, squirming in his seat, “but at least the bullies have lost interest.”

&
nbsp; “Stempton and those other assinos leaving you guys alone?”

  “For now.”

  “Hey, that’s worth something.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Chak…I don’t think I’ve tasted food in weeks,” Cam said, poking at his flattened belly. Not that he felt any hunger. Whatever else the cryo drug did, it certainly killed his appetite.

  “Maybe it won’t be too much longer. You do look better.”

  “Not soon enough,” Cam said, running his fingers along his protruding ribs.

  “Well, if you’re up for it,” Jahx said, picking out one of the datapads, “I thought we’d go over both chemistry and gaming strategy.”

  “Both?”

  “Yeah…” Jahx diverted his gaze. “Everybody’s so bent about the games around here.”

  Cam frowned. “What do you mean?”

  “Like all the kids get hung up about scores in the gaming rooms, or in gaming class. And older kids keep talking about academy competitions.”

  “Competitions?”

  “Yeah, something called the Endgame. The older kids make it sound like it’s more important than grades.”

  Intrigued, Cam pointed to Jahx’s datapad. “Show me.”

  “Here,” Jahx said, holding up it up as he played a series of video files.

  It’s just like from class, he thought, watching as two cadets maneuvered their opposing fleets through an asteroid belt. Except this time the spherical playing field spanned ten meters and included hundreds of game pieces in more complex scenarios. More like a real battle bridge.

  Cam considered what he said. “So maybe being good at games is better than acing chemistry?”

  Jahx shrugged. “I guess.”

  “But it’s not like you’re trying to win at anything.”

  Jahx stiffened, holding onto the siderail with whitened knuckles. “I don’t want to win; I just don’t want to get iced out.”

  “So, you’re saying you could?”

  Anger flashed across his eyes, but then cooled as soon as he released his grips. “I’m saying that I don’t want to play.”

  “It’s not like you’re killing real people, Jahx; it’s just sims.”

  A troubled expression pinched up his brows. “For how long?”

  The question surprised him. Cam pulled up his legs, mulling over his response as he eased himself into a cross-legged position. “You’d have to be the best, Jahx. You’d have to beat every last student in this academy and then some, just to get Rogman’s attention. Orphaned humans and hybrids like you and me are just soldiers—just killers—to him. We’ll be on the front lines before we’re in charge of a real fleet.”

  Jahx studied Cam’s face before responding. “Don’t underestimate Rogman.”

  The seriousness to his voice, the shiver that escaped up Jahx’s spine.

  Jahx is afraid of Rogman.

  What did Rogman say—or do—to Jahx?

  “Come on,” Jahx said, punching up the datapad in his hand. “We’ve gotta study.”

  Jahx moved on with the lesson, squelching the possibility of whatever questions Cam might have wanted to ask in that moment.

  After thirty minutes of drilling two weeks’ worth of lessons, Jahx paused. “Hey, the nurse is coming back.”

  Cam wormed his way back down in the bed, pulled the sheets over his shoulders, and closed his eyes. Without missing a beat, Jahx continued on, reading the lesson.

  Soft footsteps entered. “Cadet.”

  “Nurse Reppen,” Jahx acknowledged.

  Cam kept his eyes shut, trying to steady his breathing, slow the ticking of his heartbeat on the monitors.

  “Reading to him while he’s in a medicated sleep won’t do much.”

  “I have to try.”

  “Why, cadet? You should be studying yourself, or resting.”

  A pause. Cam tensed, fearing and anticipating Jahx’s response. “I’ll stay with him.”

  Why? he screamed in his head. Not me—you don’t know me, the awful things I’ve done—you shouldn’t even be here—

  “That’s commendable, cadet, but you should be worrying about your own academics and performance.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” Jahx said, his tone automated, neutral, as if to defer any further conversation.

  Monitors clicked and toned. Whatever Reppen adjusted or checked didn’t stop Jahx from continuing the chemistry lesson, going on about carbon and nitrogen until she left.

  “She’s gone,” Jahx said after another minute had passed.

  Cam, not yet ready to open his eyes, stayed curled up as he whispered, “You shouldn’t be here.”

  Jahx set down the datapad. “I’ll go if you want me to.”

  Cam didn’t know what to say, why his chest hurt, or an aching lump formed in his throat. “No, I just… I’m…”

  (Scared.)

  Opening his eyes and clearing his throat, he tried to regain some kind of self-control. “The teachers—Rogman—the other kids—this place isn’t safe, Jahx, for either of us.”

  “Then we should help each other.”

  Cam’s hands flinched, the feel of the red scarf ghosting his palms and fingers. “Why are you doing this?” he said, anger tinging his words. “What could I ever offer you back? I’m not smart like you, and I’m no chakking strategist.”

  He flung off the covers, sat up and turned out his arms, scarred and covered in inflammatory tracts, to Jahx. “Is this what you want?”

  Jahx faded back, watching him closely, not belying any distress at his outburst. With a coolness he’d only known his older sister to possess, he replied: “You’re more than your scars, Cam.”

  A forgotten memory, awakened by Jahx’s words, trailed behind. “I love you; there is love in your heart. Don’t let anybody—anything—take that away, make you forget who you really are.”

  Kara…

  (You wouldn’t recognize me anymore.)

  Cam crumpled up the sheets in his fists and repeated himself just above a whisper: “What could I ever offer you back?”

  Jahx pulled over the tray table with the datapads within Cam’s reach. “I programmed some learning modules for you. This is everything you’ll need to catch up for both classes in case you want to study while I’m away, or work on our research paper. It’s all in there, okay?”

  “Where are you going?”

  “I’ll be around,” he said, rising.

  “Wait,” Cam said, trying to think of anything to keep him from going. The datapad—

  “What?”

  “Look under the bed.”

  Jahx bent down and picked up the Reppen’s datapad.

  “I couldn’t get much out of it, but maybe you can.”

  Jahx flipped it over in his hands, running his fingers along the top.

  “I mean, it’s got military security systems, but maybe you can get something out of the other open access aps.”

  “Huh,” Jahx said. But the way his eyes scanned the blackened screen, how his brow scrunched together—

  He’s going to try and hack that. But how? He’s just a little kid—

  Cam stopped himself. Jahx is smarter than I even know.

  “That’s the best I can do,” Cam said as Jahx hid the datapad in his jacket.

  “For now,” Jahx said, blue eyes gleaming.

  “Alright, well, if you do crack that thing—and don’t get your assino caught—try and get me an early discharge.”

  “Haha, okay.” Jahx reached out and closed his hand over Cam’s, lingering for a moment. “Thanks, Cam.”

  Cam didn’t immediately pull away; not until he realized how much he needed the touch. “And Iggie… Find out if she’s okay. I saw her in here—”

  Yesterday? He wasn’t sure how much time had passed.

  “Iggie? I saw her this morning on a lift with Tomia.”

  Cam shook his head. Maybe it was just a nightmare. “Okay, yeah, sorry; I thought… I don’t know.”

  “Don’t stress. You’re on some heavy me
ds. Hey, I gotta go,” Jahx said, checking his sleeve for the time.

  “You know how to wake me up when you get back.”

  “Do you need help with that?” Jahx asked, pointing to the syringe backfilling with the cryotoxin as Cam fiddled with the line.

  “Nah, I got it figured out.”

  “You sure?”

  “Yeah. Bye, Jahx… and thanks.”

  The boy smiled, his face lighting up the room. “See you soon, Cam.”

  ***

  Dreamlike voices discussed his fate as he drifted in and out of chemical slumber.

  “He’s progressing better than I anticipated. I could have him discharged in a week.”

  “Keep him here until I say.”

  “Commandant, forgive me, but I thought you wanted him back in service as soon as possible—”

  “This is a critical observation period.”

  “Sir?

  “You have your orders, doctor.”

  Time passed, sliding him into the next dream. Machines, rusted and clunky, lumbered away somewhere distant. The sound pulled up a memory, one from long ago, before the skies turned black.

  “Careful, Camzen,” his father said, grabbing him by the hand and helping him up the factory steps. The feel of his rough callouses, the warmth, the comfort of a hand so much larger than his made him feel safe and secure, even as his father lead him inside the gigantic building with iron framing, towering smoke stacks, and slanted, sheet-metal roofing.

  “This is where I work, son,” his father explained, leading him down the aisles full of pumps and piping, rotating gears and open-faced machines. He didn’t understand most of it, only the sounds it made, the terrible grinding and grating, and the sparks that flew out from the conveyor belts as shiny raw materials got stamped into usable parts. He stayed close to his father, even as he proudly introduced Cam to his co-workers.

  “This is my son, Camzen,” his father shouted above the din, pushing him forward into a crowd of men and women in overalls and hard-hats, their faces covered in black grime. “Say hello, boy.”