by J. K. Norry
THIRTY TWO
For a long and uncomfortable moment, Link stared blankly around his own bedroom. All he could remember was a bright explosion, and a world full of light. As far as he knew, the fleet was destroyed or dispersed in one way or another. The spacious lightness in his mind was surely a letting go of some kind, and he would have to spend the rest of his life wondering. Maybe the fleet had been real, maybe he had done his best to save them, and maybe some or all of them were still alive in some form.
Or maybe he had made it all up, an elaborate story where he could be the hero while his real life spiraled out of control.
Thinking of his real life brought Link firmly into the moment, and he checked the bedside clock to see just what moment it actually was. He shot out of bed, and went rifling through his dresser. Apparently his laundry had suffered along with everything else, and Link was forced to put on the least dirty outfit he could find lying on the bedroom floor. He splashed water on his face, ran some toothpaste over his teeth, and wetted his hair where it was most mussed. The coffee maker got a longing look from him as he passed it, but he knew there was no time to brew a cup.
Blowing through a couple stop signs and one red light, Link knocked on the door only five minutes after the appointment had called for him to be there. It opened a crack, and a woman he had never seen before looked him up and down through the narrow slit without saying a word. She opened the door a little more, still blocking his entrance.
“Mister Nash,” she said. “You’re late.”
Link nodded.
“I know,” he said. “I’m sorry. I—”
“Wait there,” she cut him off. “I’ll call you in.”
The door closed again, and Link stepped back. He stood awkwardly in the hallway, looking one way and then the other without really seeing anything at all. When his phone rang, he nearly jumped out of his skin. Link fished the device from his pocket, and silenced it immediately. The screen told him what number was calling, and Link knew it wouldn’t be a long call. He answered, held the phone to his face.
“Hello?” he said.
A woman’s voice came back, clipped and concise.
“Mister Nash,” she said, “this is Doctor Thresh’s office. Please hold for the doctor.”
Link shook his head, remembered she couldn’t see him.
“I’ve only got a minute,” he protested.
The line went quiet; then there was a click, and yet another voice speaking his name like it was a dirty word.
“Mister Nash,” she said. “This is Doctor Thresh. You do realize, of course, that any prescription you get from another doctor will be brought to my attention.”
Pulling the phone away from his face for a second, Link gave it a brief incredulous look. For a moment he let himself wonder if there had ever really been a time when addressing a man by his surname actually came off sounding respectful. He moved the device back to his cheek.
“Uh,” he said, “hello to you too, Doctor. Someone in your office made a mistake, I’m afraid. I have not been to see any other doctor in years. I only have the one prescription, from you. I figured that’s what you were calling about, and I’d really like the chance to talk to you about-”
“Mister Nash,” she interrupted. “All prescriptions are logged in a database. Don’t bother lying to me. I know you were having trouble sleeping. If the prescription I gave you wasn’t working, you should have come to me if you wanted to try something else. The sleeping pills you are taking do not interact well with the prescription I wrote for you.”
Link frowned.
“I’m telling you,” he said. “I’m not taking anything but what you gave me. And I wasn’t having trouble sleeping. Your database has it wrong. I am glad you called, though. I do have some questions about...”
As the door he was waiting on opened, Link trailed off. He could see into the room now, and catching a glimpse of both Sherry and Steve in the office threw him off guard a little. The woman holding the door was the same one that had told him to wait. Only one other person was in the office, and she was a stranger to him as well.
“Sorry, Doctor,” he said into the phone. “I’ve got to go.”
Link hung up, slid his phone in his pocket and followed the woman into her office. Steve and Sherry were seated, as was the woman he had never seen before. Four chairs had been lined up facing the simple desk; Link took the only available seat while the woman who had called him in moved behind her desk and sat as well. She let her eyes travel over all four of them, and settled at last on Link.
“Mister Nash,” she said. “You can call me Missus Rucker. I’m sure you know why we’re all here.”
Frowning, Link tried to look around. He had taken the seat furthest from the door, next to Steve. Beside Steve was Sherry, and next to her was the woman he didn’t recognize. All three of them looked upset, but Sherry and Steve both met his eyes at least. The other woman stared straight ahead, her face stiffened into a brave rigid mask.
Link sat back, met Rucker’s eyes over her desk.
“Actually,” he said. “I don’t know why we’re here. I think I might know what’s going on, though. See, I’ve been taking a—”
“Mister Nash,” she cut him off. “Is this your phone number?”
While she read off the familiar digits, Link wished he could tell everyone to stop calling him that already. He considered calling her by name, and imitating her tone; then thought better of it.
Link nodded.
“Yeah,” he said. “That’s my wireless number. But that’s what I’m trying to say. I—”
“Mister Nash,” she snapped. “Did you or did you not send explicit photographs to Miss Snell?”
Link looked around.
“Who?” he said.
The woman in the chair furthest from him dropped her mask, and turned in her seat.
“Me, Link,” she said. “Haley Snell. Don’t act like you don’t remember me. I still have your disgusting pictures on my phone.”
Her head fell forward, and her shoulders started shaking.
“He was being so nice,” she choked. “I didn’t see the harm in giving him my number. As soon as he got it, he started sending suggestive texts.”
Haley lifted her head, for long enough to look over the desk to Rucker and over at Sherry. She went on.
“I...I knew he was with Sherry,” she said, “so I told him to back off. I told him she was not a smart person to offend, since she is my boss and his. Also, I don’t like cheaters.”
When she lifted her head this time, it was to glare at him. Haley wiped away her tears, and pointed across Sherry at Link.
“That’s when he started sending pictures,” she hissed.
Link’s head was spinning. He shook it, and it didn’t help. Looking helplessly between the woman behind the desk and the one accusing him of something he couldn’t remember, he shook his head again.
“What pictures?” he said.
Haley leapt to her feet, and glared down at him.
“You know damn well what pictures!” she cried. “Stop playing dumb! It isn’t going to work! What you did was wrong!”
Putting his hands up defensively, Link frowned.
“Listen,” he said. “That’s what I’ve been trying to tell you. I really don’t know what-”
“Mister Nash.” Rucker slammed her hand on the desk. “You need to calm down. This is a serious offense, you are clearly guilty, and I don’t appreciate your attitude.”
Link let his hands fall into his lap. He looked around helplessly.
“I need to calm down?” he asked. “I’m not the one yelling. I’m just trying to explain. I’ve been taking a prescription that—”
“Enough, Mister Nash,” she snapped. “Given the awkward nature of this situation, I have had to question your manager at length about the nature of
your relationship.”
He felt Sherry’s eyes on him, and Link turned to her.
“You mean Sherry?” he said. “I barely know her. Honestly, I didn’t even know she was my boss until a minute ago.”
Sherry stiffened in her chair, and leaned across Steve to glare at him. Her face was a twisted mixture of anger and hurt.
“Seriously, Link?” she said. “Are you serious right now? You like to call me ‘boss lady’ when we...”
Trailing off, Sherry let her eyes and her shoulders drop.
“Again,” Rucker said. “This is an awkward situation, and a very sensitive one. I was honestly hoping that seeing the way your coworkers feel about you would compel you to tender your resignation. Miss Snell has agreed to refrain from pursuing this further, so long as you do so. If not, I will need to run this further up the ladder.”
The thoughts were spinning so rapidly through his head that Link was beginning to feel dizzy. He looked around the room once more, and finally noticed Steve avoiding his eyes like all the others.
“What about him?” he said. “Why is Steve even here?”
Steve looked at him now, shaking his head while holding his gaze.
“I wish I wasn’t,” he said. “I told you not to take those pictures, and I told you not to send them. But you did it anyway, while I was in the same cubicle. That made me very uncomfortable, Link.”
Link felt the dizzy feeling in his head sink to his belly, and he suddenly felt nauseous. He stood up, and swept the room with his eyes one last time.
“I think I’m going to be sick,” he said. “I have to go.”
He barely heard the voice of the human resources woman calling after him, as he slammed the door shut behind him.
“You are suspended until further notice,” she cried. “Don’t come back unless we ask you to.”
Lurching up the hallway, Link felt a little better with each step. By the time he reached the restroom door the feeling had passed. He walked by it and his cubicle without pause, and headed out to his vehicle.
THIRTY THREE
The feeling started as soon as he settled behind the wheel. Link wondered, as he keyed the ignition, if there was some way The Admiral had slipped the noose once more. Miles ticked by, and each one brought with it another set of memories about the man that looked so much like him somewhere out there in the universe. The Admiral had thought circles around him so many times, it was not long before Link was convincing himself the other man had done so again. By the time he pulled into his designated parking space, Link could not have been more certain.
He dashed up the steps to his apartment, slamming the door behind him as he jogged through his tiny living room. The bottle of pills was right where he had left it, and Link seized it and spun the lid off. Shaking it into his open palm, he watched five of them form a small pile in his hand. Link moved slightly, to dump a few back in; one of the pills tumbled to the floor with the motion, and he didn’t bother to bend and pick it up. He had another look at the four remaining pills in his hand, shrugged and tossed them all in his mouth.
Settling his weight on top of the comforter, Link sighed as he closed his eyes. The last thought he had before his mind drifted away was that he might be setting it adrift forever. If he hadn’t been lying down, Link surely would have shrugged again.
The shift was sudden, and shocking; Link felt himself tingling inside another man’s body, tingling with the sensation of being the other man.
An armed soldier stood next to Link, and Cervice was on the other side of him. The robot was still bound by the electronic tether that limited his motion, and his eyes were locked on the enormous screen the same as the sentry beside him. Link was looking down, at his hands: they were free. He glanced at the armed guard, sidled up closer to him, and reached out quietly to slip the man’s pistol from the holster on his hip. Before the other man could register the movement, Link was aiming his own weapon at his head.
“Set him free,” Link said, jerking his chin at Cervice.
The robot peeled his attention from the screen at last, and looked up at him. Link grinned, without taking his eyes from the sights.
“Untie him,” he snapped.
The guard frowned, and slapped his hand against his empty holster. Another uniformed man looked up from his task, and reached for his firearm as well. Link swiveled, shot the other man in the chest before he could draw, and lined the sights up on the first man once more. The soldier shook his head, forcefully.
“No,” he said. “I won’t do it. Go ahead and shoot me.”
Link shrugged, and reversed the pistol. Placing the barrel firmly against his own temple, he arched an eyebrow at the man.
“How about now?” he said.
Immediately, the guard moved forward and knelt before the robot. A few others had noticed the skirmish, and were advancing with guns drawn. Link turned a slow circle, showing them the gun at his head and shouting at them.
“Go ahead!” he cried. “Shoot me! Or come one step closer, and I’ll shoot myself! It won’t hurt me at all, but it will kill The Admiral! Come on! Test me! Go ahead!”
Cervice was standing beside him at this point, and he leaned in close while the guard that had set him free backed away with his hands up.
“What are you doing, you fool?” Cervice hissed. “Pull the trigger!”
Still turning a slow threatening circle, Link spoke in a hushed voice from the corner of his mouth.
“I’m trying,” he whispered. “I’ve been trying this whole time.”
Link saw the robot’s eyes go wide, until he turned so Link couldn’t see him any longer. With his back squarely to Cervice, Link felt the robot reach out and grasp his arm.
“Come on,” Cervice said. “This way.”
Following the robot’s lead, Link kept the gun to his head as he backed away from the troops. He caught a glimpse of the screen at last, and it was nothing but laser fire and scattered explosions. Debris filled the entire area. Between the floating bits of fragmented ships and the blinding light of the lasers, it was impossible to tell how many crafts remained. He glanced back at Cervice, and called to him over his shoulder.
“They’re fighting!” he cried. “How are they fighting?”
The robot’s voice came back, quiet and strained while pulling him.
“Some of the ships have the latest generation in command,” he said. “Once they were attacked, they were able to start defending themselves. They aren’t fighting so much as they are covering the others while they escape.”
Still backing up, Link called out again.
“Won’t that erase them?” he cried. “Why would they do that?”
Cervice pulled, and answered.
“Better alive and lost,” the robot said, “than dead and forgotten.”
Link kept his eyes on the soldiers, finally understanding why so few of them were paying attention to the skirmish. Each of them was bent to some task, firing at the enemy or taking evasive action. Only guards were engaging them, and all they were doing was watching them back away. One of them must have realized where they were going, and cried out.
“Stop them!” he shouted. “They’re heading for the generator room!”
More sentries turned from their tasks, drew their weapons and started in their direction. Link had a chance to sneak another look at the screen. Still alive in sudden bursts of brilliant light that disappeared as soon as they formed, the section of space he was looking at was little more than broken pieces and explosions that threw more broken pieces in every direction. He saw a few ships streak away, but they were hard to track. One moment they were there, the next the screen filled with light, and the next there were less ships to see. It was hard to tell how many were getting away and how many were being destroyed. Clearly, the occupants of the escaping ships felt the same way as Cervice about existing in a di
minished state rather than no longer existing at all.
Link lowered the weapon and reversed it. Still backing up, he began to take wild unaimed shots in the general direction of the converging troops. A couple went down, but most of his blasts struck walls or work stations. He followed Cervice through an opening as it formed, and backed into the room with his sights lined up on the open doorway.
Glancing around, Link saw placards spaced at regular intervals on every wall. Some were in words, others were pictures. Each of them bore the same message: firearms were not to be discharged in this area under any circumstances. Link hesitated as a uniformed body blocked the opening, and waved the gun at one of the posted warnings.
“Don’t shoot!” he said, grinning wickedly. “See the signs?”
The guard raised his pistol, and fired. Streaking between them, the laser hit the floor and left a smoking pit at their feet.
“Get behind me!” Link cried.
He angled himself between the robot and their assailant, as another shot went wide and scorched the wall. Cervice grabbed his arm once more, and pulled him toward the metal where it was still smoking. The robot splayed Link’s fingers apart for him and placed his palm over an access panel. An opening appeared in the wall, and the room was suddenly awash in engine noise.
Everything slowed down then, and Link watched the guard lift his pistol and take careful aim. He tried to move between them, but Cervice still had ahold of his arm. The robot sidled up close to the opening in the wall, and tossed Link bodily away from him. Link had no time to be amazed at the robot’s strength, or brace himself before he hit. As his shoulder struck the floor, he rolled awkwardly and watched his pistol clatter away out of his reach.
The guard was shooting, no longer afraid of hitting The Admiral. All around Cervice, smoking pockmarks were taking shape in the floor and the wall. Link crawled toward his lost firearm, unable to take his eyes off the robot as he stood there unmoving. Now it seemed everything was moving at normal speed except him, and Link knew suddenly that he would not reach the weapon in time. He watched a shot take Cervice in the shoulder, and saw the robot collapse into the open panel. Link cried out, just as the guard took careful aim once more.