Across Our Stars: Victor

by A. Payne

  He glanced at Zephyr’s viewable stats. “Yeah, I see. You ranked up. Congrats.” Due to Player versus Player gaming, the system didn’t reveal levels. It ranked characters on a difficulty rating determined by their current gear, levels, and a host of other factors.

  “Anyway, you have to unlock the door from the other side,” the red-headed dryad cut in. She didn’t offer a name but her status bar said Varine. She wriggled between Trevor and Ethan, choosing to link arms with the latter.

  They didn’t have to wait long once Zephyr, the air nymph, used one of her abilities to release the trapped entrance. The heavy metal doors slid open to reveal the inner chamber of a safe house. The game was designed with faction play in mind, so their demon-worshipping cultists seemed to be the intended prey of Templars like Trevor. He unloaded a hail of bullets at the approaching horde of summoned demons, putting his military prowess to good use.

  Taking damage was a tricky thing. It felt like a sharp slap across the face, or a jolt of static electricity. A critical hit from a boss often numbed the victim for minutes.

  Victor and Trevor wouldn’t admit it, but they benefitted greatly from Ethan’s imperious decision to invite the girls. Together, the six of them swept through one chamber after the next. For a while.

  “Do you have to lag behind so much to explore?” Victor hissed at Varine.

  “Do you know how many resources and good gear you’re passing up?” The dryad held up an enchanted amulet to prove her point. “Anyway, our Charmer can use this more than me. I’m not even the right level.”

  The red-head dropped the golden disc in Ethan’s hands and batted her lashes at him. Victor bit back a snicker. Even in a game his friend attracted the ladies.

  “Thanks. I appreciate it.” Ethan playfully swatted the dryad’s rump.

  “No problem. Better it go to someone who can use it.”

  “A gun would be more useful,” Trevor grumbled.

  “I don’t know how Flidais tolerates you in her group, if you complain nearly as much around her as you do with us about the drops,” Victor said, referring to Trevor’s online girlfriend. He shook his head.

  They discovered the dungeon boss at the highest floor of the tower, a warlock with a dauntingly high level. He used his mind control spells to force Trevor to shoot Ethan and his familiar with his magic-negating bullets, which put a damper on their plans. It would have ended the fight right then if not for the presence of the hottie-triplets. By the time Victor healed his friend, Annalise and Varine’s life bars had been reduced to slivers.

  To spare their lives, Ethan produced a fireball that soared past Victor into the warlock, efficiently cutting through his shields. It bought them time to provide a good offensive and cut the boss down to size. The warlock fell beneath their combined onslaught and landed on the ground as a motionless silhouette that smoked and glittered with bullet holes. It vanished and left behind a pile of loot.

  “Bloody hell, I picked up some good spell components off him,” Ethan crowed triumphantly.

  Zephyr shook out her designated prize with a satisfied look on her face. It made her eyes sparkle. “I’ve needed a new set of robes.”

  The currency count, even split between them, was substantial.

  “Good game, the lot of you. We need to meet up again soon sometime,” Victor said. The alarm timer flashing above his HUD warned him that it was nearly time to log off for bed. He wanted to rise bright and early for duties the next day.

  “Certainly. I gotta work tomorrow, so how about standard Saturday?” Annalise said.

  Victor thought ahead briefly. Logging on to clear his head and get Zoe off his mind had worked. “Brilliant idea.”

  “You guys have fun. I’m booked on Saturday,” Zephyr said with an easy smile.

  Varine remained by Ethan’s side, held close with his arm around her waist. The two exchanged quiet whispers and flirty glances. Trevor sent Victor a private message, predicting the inevitable outcome.

  “Varine is new to the game. I promised to offer her a tour of the local common areas,” Ethan warned, oblivious to their secret conversation.

  Alexander Solo (to you): What did I tell you?

  Juan Sebastian: You didn’t have to tell me anything, mate. I guessed it myself.

  Victor shook his head. Ethan was lucky that STDs didn’t exist on the internet.

  “Thanks for allowing us join you,” Annalise said. “This was an absolute blast.”

  Yeah, it was, he thought as the group split.

  He logged off and lay back in his seat for a moment until he awakened completely from the virtual world. The feeling returned to his limbs and fingers, banishing the paralysis of lucid dreaming. Eventually, he pulled off the headset and goggles.

  A message reached his console from Trevor less than a minute later.

  Are you going to be all right, Victor? it asked. You haven’t been up to your usual chipper personality in the game.

  Victor inhaled deeply and rubbed his face. No. He wouldn’t be all right. With the anniversary of Ylona’s death fast approaching, he didn’t know if he could survive another day with a pleasant smile on his face.

  For once, he didn’t lie.

  No, I’m not. But I will be, he simply replied. He would adapt and recover because life had given him no other alternative.

  Chapter 9

  “That was fun last night, don’t you think?” Zoe closed her locker and crouched down to lace her boots.

  “Not as much fun as what this little tart had,” Saskia teased. “C’mon, Fairchild. Don’t hold back. Tell us how your virtual romp went.”

  Fairchild stuck her tongue out at them. “There’s no need for jealousy just because I got some and you didn’t.”

  “Please,” Saskia said. “I’d rather have a real man plowing me. The virtual sensations just don’t do it.”

  “Meaning you’ve tried it,” Zoe pointed out. Saskia’s reply was to shrug and grin.

  “Who hasn’t? We’re on this ship for months at times between ports. I don’t know about you, but dating the men aboard the Jemison doesn’t do it for me either,” Saskia replied. “They’re a rather childish sort, with exception to a limited few.”

  “Speaking of dating fellow crew men, I can’t believe that dumb berk O’Reilly asked you to join him on a date in the bloody lounge. Did you tell him you wouldn’t be caught dead, or were you nice as usual?” Fairchild asked. The young woman stood in front of the locker room mirror, gathering her white-blonde hair into a neat bun.

  Zoe grunted and finished wrapping her wrists. “I managed to avoid giving O’Reilly any sort of answer. Medical didn’t seem the place to laugh in his face.”

  “He’s a womanizing creep. Do yourself a favor, love, and stay away from the men on the Jemison. These 24 month deployments turn them into randy losers.”

  “No worries about me, Saskia, I’ve been through ship tours before. Now I’m just trying to plan how to whoop the commander in the ring.”

  Saskia smirked. “You almost had him the last time, if I recall. That was a cheap shot, what he did. As I said before, he’s like a boy on the playground picking on the girl he has a secret crush on.”

  “Give him a good walloping today, Zoe. We’ll all be cheering for you. I dated Daniels for about a month when I was new to the ship. I believe he was searching for a rank-tagger and became disappointed that I didn’t live up to expectations,” Fairchild muttered. “He’s one of the worst for abusing his title.”

  Zoe sighed. “This is the 24th century, you’d think by now that men would have it in their noggin that we’re as good as they are.”

  “According to the word onboard, he doesn’t like to take women or cyborgs along on his missions. I’m surprised the three of us are on his squad,” Saskia said.

  Fairchild shrugged. “Fortunately, he seems to be alone in his line of thought. I’d bet 50 quid that del Toro had something to say. He’s fair, and he never has a disparaging thing to say about anyone on the ship.�
�

  The doctor’s drunken confession remained Zoe’s secret. Instead of providing any confirmation, she nodded her head and smiled. “Maybe so.”

  Combining soldiers and specially trained combat medics became a fine art that Daniels perfected through rigorous exercises. They spent fifteen hours a week in five hour sessions of performing high intensity physical training routines, and during those fifteen hours they each received his undivided attention in the ring while his or her squad mates ran endurance, lifted weights, or sparred against each other.

  “I don’t see Commander del Toro,” Saskia said.

  “Oh, he has duty today,” Fairchild informed them.

  Zoe began her training session with a timed run. While each marine stepped into the ring with Daniels, the other members of the squad continued their own exercise routines. After three laps she moved on to the climbing wall, followed by a round on the mats practicing blocks and strikes.

  “Raines, get in here.”

  Zoe bumped fists with Saskia then they exchanged places. Daniels allowed her no time to get situated and kicked her rotator cuff the moment she moved within his reach. It was the same low blow that damaged her prosthetic in the last spar, but she rolled with it this time and let his foot glide off her arm to minimize the force.

  Sheisty bastard. The strike knocked her off balance, but she blocked the next with her natural arm to avoid granting Daniels access to her prosthetic again. She had to keep it away from him before he capitalized on the same weakness.

  “Afraid I’ll shatter your toy again, Raines?”

  “No, sir.”

  Daniels moved swiftly for a man of his considerable bulk, and his blows were devastating whether she blocked them or not. He bruised her forearm and her shin as they traded strikes and kicks across the mat while eager comrades watched on and held their breath.

  Literally. Saskia was blue in the face.

  “Come on, Raines. What are you waiting for? What if I wasn’t a trainer and I pulled a gun on you or a knife? You can’t drag the fight out and keep that arm away from me forever.”

  His taunt goaded Zoe into dropping her guard. Daniels pressed his advantage and caught her across the face with a right hook. The coppery taste of blood filled Zoe’s mouth and she retreated out of his reach.

  “Accept that you’re going to lose. Give it up and let me teach the rest of my squad–”

  The commander’s words had the desired effect; her rage flared. She lunged at him with her cybernetic fist, but he stepped aside of the blow, grabbed her by the wrist, and cracked her prosthetic over his knee. Zoe screamed. Desperate to remain in the fight, she drove her flesh and bone fist beneath his chin, cracking his teeth together.

  Blood and spittle flew from the man’s mouth as he staggered back off balance, pulling Zoe with him. He recovered quickly and wrenched her arm. He used it like a tether, taking her wherever he wanted to lead her on the floor until she slammed the back of her head into his nose.

  They traded blows back and forth across the sparring mat, one blocking and the other receiving. She searched for an opening in his defense, determined to end the intense exchange between them.

  Daniels’ weakness became apparent with crystalline clarity. It had dangled before her all along, and Zoe had never considered it with any seriousness. She feigned a strike with her left and stepped in close, turning her cheek so that his punch skimmed past her face. It hurt, but it wasn’t the devastating attack Daniels intended, failing to lay Zoe out on her back. With only a second to spare, she aimed her right hand downward for his balls.

  Zoe’s strike was colossal, the sort of blow that made a spectating crowd sympathetically wince along with the recipient. The heel of her palm collided with the commander’s crotch, and she held very little back, allowing him to experience almost the complete might of her cybernetic limb. Anything more would have squished his grapes into jelly.

  The chain of events that took place after the strike set everything in Zoe’s favor. Daniels convulsed and relinquished his grip on her shoulder, failing to hobble her cybernetic arm again. His defenses lowered completely.

  Without wasting a precious second, Zoe took him down to the ground into a locked grapple that placed the commander face down into the mats. He puked, but she lacked the sympathy to ease up on her restraint. She kept him locked by both of her strong legs.

  “Tap out, Commander.”

  Daniels struggled but in the end he slapped his hand down on the mats. Zoe released him to the sound of cheers.

  Chapter 10

  “The marines must have had a great sparring match, sir. You have Raines and Daniels both this time,” O’Reilly reported.

  “Really?” Victor tapped the screen and pulled up the patient waiting list. He blinked.

  “They look feckin’ awful. Especially the commander. I, uh, sent him to the showers first, sir. Raines is waiting in your lab.”

  “What’s wrong with him?”

  The medical technician struggled to maintain a straight face. “Read his chief complaint, sir.”

  Victor tapped the screen with his finger and expanded the digital record. “Testicular… contusion…” Christ. She actually did it, Victor thought. A broad grin spread across his face, and then he leaned back in the seat to chortle with laughter.

  “They brought him in covered in his own vomit,” O’Reilly shared.

  “Ha!”

  Zoe waited for him in one of the exam rooms, sitting on the edge of the table in form-fitting workout attire. Bruises littered both forearms and dried blood crusted her lower lip.

  “You’re looking a little rough around the edges, Raines,” Victor commented. He shut the door behind him and held both of his hands beneath the sanitizer. Within a couple seconds, he had a perfect pair of gloves molded to his hands.

  “You should have seen the other guy.”

  Victor chuckled and gestured for her to lie down. She knew the routine and remained still as he guided the biometric scanner above her and activated it. “I will soon. Did you take my advice?”

  “It wasn’t bad advice and he didn’t leave me much opening for anything else.”

  A keen eye picked out most of Zoe’s injuries without use of the device, but the scanner confirmed his hunch. The swollen lower lip appeared to be the least of her troubles, but it was the most distressing for Victor. He never struck his female marines in the face during training bouts and had been teased mercilessly for his avoidance as a younger enlistee.

  “Does that hurt?” he asked.

  “Which bit?” Zoe looked up at him from her reclined position. Her smile tugged at the tear and quickly dropped the expression from her face.

  “That bit,” Victor said. He smiled back at her. “Hold on, I’ll clean that up first.”

  Victor used a damp cloth to wipe the dried blood away, careful not to further agitate the split skin. “Any pain in your prosthetic?”

  “Not as bad as last time, no, but…”

  “What?” he asked while using an applicator to smear a dollop of anesthetic gel over the split skin.

  “I heard a crack, I think. And my fingers sort of tingle. Things don’t feel right.”

  “I thought so, but I wanted you to verify it.” Victor turned aside and opened a drawer to remove his surgical scalpels.

  Zoe squirmed. “Um… Doc? I see lots of sharp things.”

  “He separated a nerve and I can’t reconnect it by touch this time, Raines. If you want complete sensation back, I’ll have to go in this time.”

  “Oh. Right. Okay.” She focused her gaze straight up at the room’s ceiling, tension in her lean frame.

  “Relax. You’re familiar with this, right? I’m going to make a small incision here, and here,” he explained patiently, marking the spots with a green marker. “For the duration, your pain receptors will remain deactivated in this arm. I won’t let you feel a thing.”

  A pent-up breath exhaled from her, accompanied by a terse nod.

  Victor
numbed the arm all at once by deactivating the sensors beneath the skin. He knew them by memory on her arm’s model, and could do it without the use of an x-ray. Once it fell limp against the surgical table, he positioned it as needed and began making small and precise cuts to yield access to the mechanicals bits beneath the human skin. It parted easily, welling small amounts of blood to the surface that he wiped away with a cloth.

  The repair took less time than the conversation preceding it. At the end, Victor sealed the small cuts, reactivated her arm’s nerve sensors, and patted her thigh. “You’re done.”

  Zoe rolled up and flexed her hand, touching each finger in turn. She pressed her palm against the table and then ran her fingers down her pants before she seemed satisfied with her tactile sense.

  “Thanks, Doc. Daniels hits like a drake.”

  “He should. He was a former MMA champ before he enlisted. You should feel proud.”

  Victor patted her on the back in passing on his way to the next patient room.

  Commander Daniels lay on his side in the fetal position. He didn’t grace his fellow officer with a single word of greeting.

  “So… My chart tells me that you walked groin first into someone’s hand. Bad luck, mate.” Victor grinned broadly and stepped into the room. Karma is a bitch, he thought cheerfully as he shut the door.

  Greyson Daniels wouldn’t be challenging Zoe to the ring again anytime soon.

  ***

  Only old television shows played during the early hours of the morning. Victor loved them, but his personal player didn’t pack the same punch as the device operating in the crew lounge.

  When other members of the Jemison realized the man had an appreciation for the early shows, they began to leave data chips for him with entire seasons of ancient TV dramas.

  “Glazed pecans.” Catching him in a daze, Zoe dropped a small bag full of the sweet confections over the back of the couch next to Victor. He jumped, startling badly enough to slosh cocoa mint tea over his hand.

  “Sorry, sir,” Zoe apologized quietly. “Didn’t mean to scare you. Figured I could share since you fixed my arm and all. Twice.”