Blue Sky Tomorrows

by L. J. Hachmeister

  “Scab!”

  Or maybe not…

  Although she kept a cool guise, he could see the storm in her eyes, the quiet vexation brewing, mounting, as she righted her fighter and tried to use the environment to buy her some time.

  She doesn’t want this—doesn’t want any of this, he gleaned. But some fights couldn’t be avoided. And when she sucked in her lower lip as Walli launched his missiles, his audience cheering, Cam saw the flicker of an inner flame, one that couldn’t possibly originate from a meek young girl.

  Oh, chak—

  “Die, launnie!” Walli shouted as his missiles collided with her ship. Electric colors exploded, leaving behind images so bright and sharp that Cam covered his eyes until it subsided.

  “Haha, loser,” the thug said, refitting his crutch back under his armpit. “Go back to the gutters.”

  Someone shoved Jaeia from behind and echoed Walli’s sentiment. “Yeah, get out of here!”

  And then, as Cam launched himself off the therapy table, struggling to reach her before the next kid joined in on the attack, Jaeia pulled the arm of the boy closest to her. With him bent over, his ear by her mouth, she whispered something. A terrible something; a secret that bugged out the boy’s eyes and peeled back his lips from white teeth as a kick from behind sent her sprawling. He made a guttural choking sound, like a laugh caught up in a sob, before jolting back upright.

  “You’re next!” the boy cried, pointing at the kid standing over Jaeia and cocking back his fist. In a panic, he grabbed Jaeia’s attacker, shaking him until he screamed and fought his way out of the boy’s grips. “You’re next!”

  “Quit it, Dav,” Walli said, crutching a few steps back as the crazed boy screamed and shouted, kicking and shoving anyone in his path. Some of the kids fled, running out to the nurse’s station or to their therapists, pleading like frightened children for their intervention.

  But none of the adults came to their rescue, some even moving to better positions to observe the escalating situation.

  “Dav—no—what are you—?”

  Walli screamed as Dav tackled him to the ground. The crazed boy pounded him on the chest with his fists, screaming: “YOU’RE NEXT. YOU’RE NEXT!”

  Legs and feet on fire, Cam reached Jaeia as two of the other kids took to the same panic, grabbing at each other and screaming the same nonsense.

  “Come on,” Cam said, batting away the attackers as he pulled her to the safety of a far therapy table. None of the other kids followed, blinded by whatever hysteria afflicted Dav, pushing and shoving each other.

  “You okay?” Cam asked, chest heaving as he tried to calm himself down.

  Jaeia, white as a ghost, looked seconds away from bursting into tears. Still, she kept whatever grip she needed, but afforded him only a terse nod as they crouched behind the table.

  “What the hell is wrong with everyone?” he asked, peeking over the table.

  Jao and a few other therapists, trailed by shockwand-wielding soldiers, clapped their hands and shouted, “order. Order!”

  Cam couldn’t stand the tension, the heat in the air that frayed his nerves, pumped iron-hot blood through his veins. It took everything he had to steady his breathing, to blow the steam out of his lungs and remind himself to stay calm. What’s happening to me?

  (What’s happening to all of us?)

  “It’s going to be all right,” he said, putting his hand on her shoulder. He gripped her hard, his fingers digging into his muscle. He didn’t mean it, but he couldn’t let up. “Jaeia…” he said, unable to control the way he sounded, the pleading tone to his words. “Really, it’s okay. You did it.”

  “I did?” she whispered, chin quivering.

  “Yeah, you did. You made a good fight,” he said, slapping the tiled floor with his free hand in a Cerkan sign of respect.

  Tears brimmed her eyelids. “I didn’t want to.”

  “But you did what you had to do. Not many people can do that.”

  Something inside him loosened; the fires within abated, all except the frazzled pain of his nerves.

  “Thanks, Cam.”

  Cam reached his arm around her, giving her a hug he didn’t think he had in him. But something about her, whatever quiet, sweet quality juxtaposed the unnamable thing he’d just witnessed, elicited such a radical gesture.

  “Ferros! Drachsi! Fall in line!” Jao shouted.

  Cam looked over the therapy table, seeing the two rows of injured kids sobbing and trembling at attention.

  “Hey,” Cam said, catching her before they would be parted. She hesitated, looking at him with uncertainty, like a young kid about to be outed for whatever shameful misbehavior they’d committed. Tongue caught in his mouth, he teetered on the edge of two extremes. One, terrified of what he already knew but could not face, and the other, remembering the girl who’d saved him from a fall. (Ask her what she said—

  Ask her if she’s—)

  “Ferros—Drachsi—now, or a day in isolation!”

  With a deep breath, Cam squeezed her arm. “You’re okay. You’re brave, Jaeia Drachsi. I won’t forget this.”

  Jaeia put her hand over his and squeezed back. “Neither will I.”

  ***

  Reppen returned late that night, but something about her had changed. As she made adjustments to his medication pump, Cam scooted up in bed and tried to reconcile the difference between the caring nurse and the woman before him that brought a chill to the air.

  “N-nurse?”

  Reppen acted as if she didn’t hear him, turning to the vital signs monitors. As she reached over him, he caught a closer glimpse of her face. Darkened circles ringed her eyes, as if she hadn’t slept in days, and her cheeks, anemic and gaunt, belonged to a starved prisoner, not the nurse he’d talked to not that long ago.

  “Are… are you okay?” Cam asked, confused and scared.

  Her lips moved, but no sound came. Finally, as she checked off her finally task on her datapad, she looked at him, familiar eyes covered by an icy-sheen. “Did you kill that boy?”

  All of the air left the room. Cam clutched the neckline of his gown, struggling against whatever constricted his throat. How does she know?!

  “It’s not fair what’ll they do… Just a child… I can’t...”

  “W-what?” he squeaked.

  Finally, glassy-eyed, she whispered: “Rest well, cadet.”

  She turned back to the pump and hit start, then hurried out of the medical bay.

  A 1,000mg/kg?

  An overdose.

  No—

  He tried to stop the machine, change the dose, override the system—anything—but the lockout screen flashed red, keeping him from stopping the medication delivery.

  She changed her password—

  I’m chakked—

  Do something!

  Cam yanked hard on the medication line attached to his upper arm. Pain tore up into his shoulder and down his chest, but he flung the bloodied line across the room.

  Bracing his arm to occlude the bleed, he kicked off the bedsheets and stumbled to his feet.

  Why did she try to kill me? Anger and fear dulled the pain shooting up into his legs, and the ache of his muscles trying to keep up with his pace. (How does she know about Colin?)

  Cam followed her down the hallway, ducking and hiding in the other adjacent medical bays when the few night-shift medical staff appeared. Most of them, heads down into their datapads, wouldn’t have noticed him even if he stood in the middle of the hall flailing his arms.

  Slowed by his sluggish muscles, Cam lost Reppen around the nurse’s station.

  Chak—I’m still bleeding, he thought, noticing the dots of blood that had dripped from his arm and splashed the white tiles. Squatting next to a supply cart, he opened a few of the drawers and searched for something useful. Finding a brown-colored bandage, he used his teeth to unravel the material and then wrapped his arm the best he could. After managing an uneven but effective bandage, he continued his search. He
listened down the dim hallways for footsteps, hearing only the steady beeps of heart monitors, and the hum of the ventilation systems. One of the nurses, still buried in her charting, sat at the desk, chewing on something that made her lips smack together.

  Where would she be going? he thought, trying to reason out her direction. Not that any of this made any real sense. But whatever he’d seen in her dead eyes, something about her manner and wooden posture, triggered the vague horror he’d witnessed—

  —dreamed—

  —and he had to see for himself what spawned her transformation.

  And what might be hungering to take him next.

  Movement down the to his right caught his eye. A feminine figure leaned against the wall, shaking. With jerky movements, she pushed herself off, and staggered further down, toward a red-lit door marked AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.

  Reppen?

  In her left hand, she gripped a sharp, silver object that glinted in the low light. What is she doing?

  Keeping low to the ground, Cam hurried after her. His weakened muscles and over-sensitized nerves throbbed with every step, but he pushed on, spurred by the same need that made him run out of his apartment door when the Cerkan skies turned black.

  Unlocking the door with her keycard, Reppen slipped inside. Cam lunged forward, trying to catch the door, but it slammed shut.

  “Chak,” he muttered, tapping his fist on the door.

  He checked the map to his left. Isolation: East Wing.

  What if…?

  Heart pounding, he stood on his tip-toes, and dared a glance through the oval window.

  No Reppen, no machine monsters; just another low-lit hallway leading to a transparent surgical suite.

  Wait—is that…?

  Inside the surgical suite, bright overhead lights shone down on an unmoving figure strapped to an angled table.

  … a person?

  Cam tried to raise himself higher, digging the tips of his fingers into the oval sill.

  A petite frame, frizzy hair.

  Iggie?

  But he couldn’t make out their coloring or face, not at a distance. However, he could distinguish the figure, stripped down and naked, wires and tubes thrust into their mouth, shoulder and arm, like some kind of cybernetic experiment put on pause.

  Horrified, he slipped, stumbling backward and falling onto his hands and tailbone. Aggravated nerves shot daggers into his wrists, hips and through his spine, roiling up through his windpipe in a scream. He held the cry back with a grimace, counting the seconds as the fires raged.

  10

  9

  (just breathe!)

  8

  7

  (it will pass—IT WILL PASS)

  …

  Thinking of Iggie, he pulled one foot underneath himself, then the other, grunting and muffling the groans until he hoisted himself up and limped back over to the door.

  When he looked again, Reppen obstructed his view, standing in front of the patient, her back to him. Slowly, she raised her arm. The blade gleamed in the light just before she whipped her arm back down.

  “No!” he screamed, pounding on the door.

  “Hello?” someone shouted from behind him. Then, panic. “Call for backup.”

  The footsteps rushing toward him didn’t stop him from beating his fists against the glass, kicking the base of the door, or smashing his knuckles into the keycard reader. “Stop it! Don’t hurt her! STOP!”

  A flash of red, a metal screech. Cam didn’t know what he saw or heard as something sharp pierced the back of his neck, only that Reppen turned on her heels and screamed, raising her arms to ward off whatever stormed toward her.

  What’s happening?!

  Muscles failing, Cam collapsed backward, into strong arms that gripped him, held him to the ground as lights shone in his eyes.

  “Give him another 10mls!” someone shouted.

  As Cam struggled to free himself from the grips of the medical staff, someone—or something—gigantic bashed into the walls, sent vibrations through the floor.

  The monster—THE MONSTER—

  (Iggie, please—I’m coming—I won’t let them hurt you—)

  “Put him under.”

  “Stop it—let me go!” he mumbled through numb lips. Time fractured, the past pouring into the present as his pupils dilated and his heart rate slowed. The darkened ceiling above him transformed into black skies, the smell of disinfectant and sterilizers turned to gun smoke. “Kara…”

  (I failed you—)

  But any fight, any terrified thought, washed away in whatever cocktail dulled his system.

  (I’m so sorry…)

  Aggressive hands turned out his left arm, inspecting the discontinued medication line. “We’ve got a problem.”

  Other voices made exasperated sighs, swore.

  “Call Rogman.”

  “No, Naum.”

  “I don’t want that madman coming back here—”

  “Just get the kid sedated before he has a chance of retention.”

  Hands lifted his body, but he floated above them in the swirling dark, pulling farther and farther away from himself.

  “Do you think he saw…?”

  Someone huffed and squeezed his arm. “For his sake, I hope he didn’t.”

  Chapter 18

  A steady thumping, like a heartbeat, pulsed in the distance. Cam couldn’t open his eyes, nor did he want to. Something terrible—old, rotten, like a gutted fish roasting in the sun—hunkered down above him, breathing hot air into his face.

  Don’t look don’t look DON’T LOOK—

  Mechanical clicking; skittering tiny, pointed feet. Cam tried again to move, but his arms and legs wouldn’t budge. Whatever restraint paralyzed his muscles, pinning him to a cold, hard surface, left his senses untouched. Save his sight, he could sense everything, right down to the prickling fingers dancing up his left arm to the electric whirring of machines.

  “This is Rogman’s little pet project,” someone said, sounding both annoyed and scared.

  Screeching, grating; like a blender grinding up metal flecks.

  “Well, don’t chak it up.”

  The whirring increased to a steady whine. Pain exploded up his arm. Cam wanted to scream, to thrash about, but he couldn’t, not even as flesh tore and bone splintered.

  Alarms screamed, a commotion of feet and nervous hands.

  “That heartrate—”

  “Get him under!”

  Cam shot upright, swinging his arms.

  “Compose yourself, cadet.”

  Rogman. The Commandant stood next to his bed, holding a datapad in his gloved hand, lips pressed together in a tight line. Dr. Verdebear, bloodshot eyes cast down to the floor, cowered behind him.

  Wait—what’s going on? No medical staff held him down, Reppen, machine monster—Where am I?

  It took a moment for his surroundings to sink in. Back in the medical bay, Cam sat up in his bed, sheets in a tangled clump by his feet. His skull thrummed with pain, and his throat ached, as if rubbed raw by sandpaper.

  My arm!

  He inspected his left arm. A tightly wrapped, neat bandage lay over the medication access point where the line once threaded into his body.

  Was it real? He picked at the bandage, but the Commandant clicked his tongue, and he retracted his right hand.

  “Where’s nurse Reppen?” he croaked, dry tongue sticking to the back of his mouth. Holding his neck with one hand, he searched for his tray table, for a cup with water—anything—to soothe his sore throat.

  Rogman didn’t move to help him, not when Cam struggled to pull the tray table closer and fumbled with the water cup.

  “There are a few matters to be settled, cadet. First, you’ve been taken off cryoxotin. These reports state that you’ve been found wandering the hallways, hallucinating—”

  “But I—”

  The Commandant slammed his hand on the siderail, making him jump. “Hallucinations. Do you understand?”


  “Y-yes.”

  “Second, you’re to be discharged today and put back into class.”

  Cam picked up on his omission. “No sim training?”

  Clasping his hands behind his back, Rogman eyed Verdebear. “Per your medical team, the training suits will no longer be effective.”

  Verdebear muttered something under his breath, then resumed his demurred posture.

  I wouldn’t feel pain? He thought about Jao, how she constantly had to adjust his motor assist modules. Or the shock would kill me?

  Too afraid to ask, he kept his mouth and waited for the Commandant to continue.

  Rogman lowered his voice. “Finally, in order for you to stay enrolled in the Academy, I require a different demonstration of your skill.”

  “W-what…what do you want?” he asked, goosebumps breaking out across his skin.

  Tapping the datapad on his open hand, Rogman inhaled sharply. “You’ve become quite close with cadet Jahx Drachsi, yes?”

  Cam gulped. “He’s helped me keep up with my classes.”

  “I warned you that the triplets are a disease. I don’t want a motivated cadet like you adopting their lackadaisical attitude.”

  “Sir?”

  “You yourself observed that they’re underperforming, especially Jahx.”

  What’s he getting at? Cam ground his fingernails into his palms.

  “As unimpressive as they’ve turned out to be, all three will be axed from the program at semester’s close and sent back to their homeworld.”

  Fiorah—no. Cam remembered Jahx’s fear, the abuse he suffered at home. He’s older—stronger—maybe he could defend himself—

  No. Not against Yahmen. Jahx was terrified of his owner, as if he held even more power over the small boy than Cam could ever understand.

  I shouldn’t care, he thought, stomach knotting. Gotta think of Kara.

  “Unless,” Rogman said, twitching his mustache, “you think they’re worthy of a second consideration.”

  Cam didn’t like how he emphasized consideration, or how Verdebear shuddered.

  “I… I think all three are really smart. I think they belong here.” The last few words filled his gut with ice, as if he committed some kind of grievous betrayal.