“All of that seems strange to me,” said Rain. “But none of that is concerning to me, there is a difference.”
“And the difference would be?” asked Shen, partly annoyed and partly afraid.
“Whatever is different about you, this extra resilience you’ve developed, it has only made you tougher and stronger, more capable of surviving. None of these symptoms that you’ve reported are injuring you, or weakening your immune system, or making you sick, or otherwise harming you.”
“But I am sick, Doctor,” said Shen desperately. “And I don’t know what’s wrong with me!”
“When you came to the infirmary, the doctors there did extensive tests on you,” said Rain. “And Dr.’s Andrews and Taylor have my utmost confidence. According to their reports, recent anomalies aside, all of your tests come back free and clear of any indications of illness. Even your genetic panel still comes back normal. Shen,” she looked at him with those big blue eyes of hers, “you’re still human, and you’re fine.”
I don’t feel fine, he thought, annoyed that medical science seemed unable, or unwilling, to discover what was wrong with him, and what that meant for his future prognosis. “I don’t think I’m fine,” he said. “I think that what happened to me—what gave me these abilities—it’s an artifact leftover from my Remorii DNA that I acquired after the Remus Nine mission.”
“That’s an interesting hypothesis, but I can assure you, Mr. Iwate, there is no basis for it.”
“Why not?” asked Shen. “All of my unusual symptoms, every one of them, has occurred after the Remorii attacked me, not before. Is it such a stretch to believe the two are related?”
“Not a stretch per se,” said Rain, “tell me, what type of Remorii were you attacked by?”
“Type I,” said Shen, knowing the doctor already had access to this knowledge. Is she testing my memory? He wondered.
“And are Type I Remorii renowned for their ability to survive within a vacuum for extended periods of time?”
“I don’t know,” said Shen. “It’s possible. No one has tested it.”
“You also claim that you had a clairvoyant prognostication that told you which of the enemy transports were carrying other Remorii. Do Type I Remorii possess such a talent?”
“Well, I wouldn’t call it clairvoyance or a prognostication,” said Shen, objecting to the terms. “What I said was—I had a strong, almost overwhelming feeling that the Strigoi were on those two transports—strong enough that I convinced Calvin to prioritize targeting those vessels. I wouldn’t say I had anything more than a strong hunch, though.”
“And are Type I Remorii known for their hunches?” asked Rain. “Can they sense where other Remorii are, within a certain proximity?”
“It’s possible,” said Shen, knowing that sounded crazy as soon as he said it. “I’m just not willing to rule anything out yet.”
“I see,” said Rain. She gave him a pleasant smile. “Well, Shen, I believe you may rest easy. I’m quite sure I cleared your system entirely of any remnant of Remorii DNA and all of its artifacts. And, after reviewing your case file,” said Rain, leafing through the paperwork, “I have to say that I completely concur with Dr. Andrews. You are fit for duty. I would be wary of the augmented strength you report, and extra careful of any injuries you sustain—you have minor nerve damage that makes it harder for the experience of pain to manifest itself to your brain, decreasing your likelihood of getting it treated and therefore upping your risk of infection. But, other than that, I would give you a clean bill of health. You’re very lucky, Shen. I hope you can understand that.”
Lucky…he thought. What an interesting choice of word. He didn’t feel lucky. He was supposed to die on Remus Nine and he hadn’t, that had been a form of luck, and while transitioning into a Remorii he should have died—only to be miraculously saved by Rain in the nick of time—that too, he supposed was luck. But where did it leave him? Still not quite human. Still not quite able to be understood, or have any clue as to what terrible thing might be in store for him next.
“Doctor, if you had to speculate,” he asked, deciding another approach might be more successful. “Why wasn’t I killed when I was exposed to the loss of atmosphere on deck four?”
Rain looked curious yet perplexed by the question. “Well, we know a person can survive exposure to a vacuum for several seconds, provided they remember to exhale the air in their lungs so they do not burst,” she bit her lip thoughtfully.
“I did do that,” admitted Shen.
“And you did show signs of hypoxia and ebullism, exactly like we’d expect a person exposed to a vacuum to experience…”
“Yes, but those things should have killed me within seconds or minutes,” said Shen. “You said yourself that a normal human being, even under ideal circumstances, would lose consciousness in ten or fifteen seconds. And then the real damage would begin.”
“Yes, I did say that,” Rain admitted.
“Yet my hypoxia was minor, my ebullism was minor, my hypothermia was little more than walking outside naked on a cold winter’s day, and I remained conscious and aware throughout the entire experience.”
“You did manage to get ahold of some oxygen and minor protection from one of the soldier’s climate suits,” she reminded him.
“Yes, but that was minutes later, not seconds,” said Shen. “And the suit itself was compromised. Not the breathing apparatus or the oxygen tank, but the suit…it had a large, dart-sized tear in it, right through the heart. So I was always exposed to the vacuum, to one degree or another.”
“You said the intruder sealed the breach,” said Rain. “At that point, climate would have been restored.”
“Yes, that’s true,” said Shen, thinking back. “And that would have given me some reprieve. However, the seal did not hold and the breach returned. By the time I had tapped my code and was retrieved from deck four, I estimate that I had been exposed to null atmosphere for several minutes. More than enough time to kill me.”
“Well, maybe and maybe not,” said Rain. “We haven’t done extensive testing on humans exposed to vacuums, for obvious humanitarian reasons. We do know that you can survive for up to two minutes.”
“But I should have lost consciousness at around fifteen seconds,” interjected Shen.
“True,” admitted Rain. “But only from the best knowledge we have. We know your blood wouldn’t boil; your circulatory system would still be able to regulate that. And you could expect to experience some ebullism, which you did, but your skin is strong enough to prevent any explosion from pressure, so no mystery there. Really, the only thing I cannot explain is why you remained conscious for the duration of the experience, especially without more oxygen feeding into your bloodstream.”
Shen shrugged. “And there you have my problem, Doctor,” he said. “I’m a freak of nature. No human should have survived what I experienced.”
“Not a freak,” Rain corrected him. “Gifted, perhaps, lucky even, but not a freak.”
“So you think there’s a rational, human reason for what happened to me—or rather, what didn’t happen to me?”
“There’s always a rational reason,” said Rain. “As for the rest, we just have to have faith we can identify what that reason is. But, the way that I see it, we should both be glad you did survive—however miraculously—and consider that a blessing instead of a curse.”
“A blessing?” said Shen, not hiding the little bit of scorn that traced his voice. “So you expect me to believe that God intervened on my behalf.”
“Not God necessarily,” said Rain. “But perhaps there are other forces in the universe, some kind of design, and you dying on deck four at that time, as you rightly should have, did not fit that design.”
“Spare me the sermon, Rain,” said Shen. “I’m not religious. I believe in a rational explanation for everything; I don’t accept superstition as any kind of answer.”
“Neither do I,” said Rain. “And I’m not suggesting superstition.
I’m suggesting that there might be causes and effects, which resulted in your survival, so minute that we cannot identify them. Not yet. But that doesn’t stop the possibility that some force or purpose, call it Providence, say, did not intervene on your behalf.”
Shen had heard enough of this. He’d hoped his doctor, the one who had “cured” him would be able to make sense of what had happened, but if her best guesses were ones he could have gotten from a preacher somewhere—rare as they were among humanity—then it had been a waste of time. He would have to discover what had happened to him on his own, and from there try to guess at what was coming.
“I sense there is something else you wish to ask me about,” said Rain, no doubt observing the fact that Shen hadn’t made any effort to leave the doctor’s apartment.
Shen felt his face go red as he spoke, but he forced the words out anyway. “As a matter of fact, Doctor, there is,” he said.
“I’m all ears,” she said with a broad, pleasant smile. At least she’s easy to talk to, he thought, as he struggled to find the right words.
“The thing is, it’s a difficult subject to discuss,” said Shen. “I know I need advice but…I’m not quite sure how to bring it up.”
“Most topics in medicine are sensitive,” said Rain understandingly. “But I assure you, you have full doctor-patient confidentiality here, and I am only here to help you. Whatever you’re struggling with, just remember, I’m your friend.”
Shen nodded. That reassurance did help a little.
“And, if it would help you to feel more comfortable, I could tell you some less than flattering things about myself,” offered Rain.
“That won’t be necessary,” said Shen. “Here’s the thing…” he paused. “I kind of blew it with this girl.”
He could tell by Rain’s changed expression that he had taken her completely off guard. “We’re old friends and I really like her,” said Shen. “How do I get her to forgive me? I already tried talking it out and giving her flowers.”
“Well, I must admit, this is a little outside of my medical expertise,” said Rain, much to Shen’s chagrin.
“I know; it was stupid of me to come to you about this. It’s just, you’re the nearest thing to a ship’s counselor that we have aboard. But I’m sorry for wasting your time.”
“No, not at all,” said Rain. “I was going to say, this is a subject outside of my medical expertise, but I still know a thing or two about it, and I’d be happy to help.”
Shen’s look of disappointment transformed into a cautious, nervous smile. “Really?”
“Of course! Now tell me, what did you do to wrong this girl?”
“I’ve been rude to her,” said Shen, ashamed of himself. “I’ve pushed her away, tried to keep some distance between us—mainly because I believed she deserved better than me and because I thought of myself as a monster.”
“And you don’t think of yourself as a monster anymore?” asked Rain. When Shen didn’t reply immediately, Rain added, “this part is very important, Shen. How you see yourself will affect how others see you.”
“No, I suppose I don’t,” he said, looking at his hands as if imagining them stained in blood. There was something wrong with him. And he probably was no good for Sarah. But something else inside him burned, and he knew that being with her—or trying to be with her—was what he wanted most in this life. However short or long it lasted.
“That’s good, that’s an important first step,” said Rain. “You need to have confidence. Now, when you say you tried talking it out and giving her flowers, and that apparently didn’t work, how did you go about it?”
“I didn’t talk it out with her exactly; I wrote her a letter, and as for flowers, there aren’t any flowers on the ship, so I made some out of folded paper. I left all this at her quarters, hoping she would forgive me.”
“And has she?”
“No…at least, I don’t think so,” said Shen.
“Have you tried having an honest conversation with her?” asked Rain. “In person. Keeping in mind that sometimes these things work out and are just right, and other times, they are not meant to be, or shouldn’t be…” her words drifted off, as if Rain were lost in her own thoughts momentarily.
“No, I haven’t exactly had the guts to talk to her about anything like that,” said Shen. “I’d hoped the letter would be enough. I told her everything in the letter, honestly I did.”
“The letter probably helped,” said Rain. “And handmade flowers is a sweet gesture that I think any woman would be moved by. But sometimes gestures aren’t enough. I think you should go to her and have an honest conversation. Let her know how you feel and lay your feelings on the table. She may not reciprocate them, and you may not like what she has to say, but that is a risk you are going to have to take if you want to move past this.”
“I know,” said Shen.
“And then there’s always the chance that she will reciprocate,” said Rain, “I don’t want to encourage you to be pessimistic. Just be prepared. For now, though, all you can be sure of is nothing, because you haven’t had a conversation with her about it. My thoughts are, until you do just that, you’ll be stuck in this limbo you are currently in, not sure whether you’ve blown it for good with her, or whether your relationship can move forward together.”
“Thank you, Rain. I think I’ll take your advice and do just that.” It was what Shen had known all along, but somehow hearing someone else say it, especially a woman, made him feel doubly certain it was the right thing to do.
“I hope I helped,” said Rain with another of her pleasant smiles.
“You did, Doctor. You really did.”
CHAPTER 09
Calvin had just managed to fall asleep—a task that had always proven difficult for him without the aid of equarius, and seemed to have become especially difficult recently—when the alert chirped on the main console in his quarters. He hesitated to get up and answer it, knowing it could be something as trivial as a personnel dispute—which really was Summers duty to handle—or it might be something as serious as a critical systems failure or alien attack. Although he doubted an alien starship would be attacking them while stealthed in alteredspace, unless one or both of those systems had failed.
That would be just what I need, thought Calvin. Not three hours out of drydock and already encountering systems failures…
“Calvin here,” he said, after tapping the comm. He made no effort to mask the yawn in his voice.
“Sorry to disturb you at this hour, sir,” came the voice of Second Lieutenant Vargas, commander of Red Shift. Technically, the job of commanding the Red Shift fell to the 2O, who was actually Lafayette Nimoux, but since the man also doubled as Special Forces commander—and had his hands full training and organizing their new batch of Rosco recruits—Calvin had awarded the command of Red Shift to the next most senior officer on the starship.
“It’s fine; I’m awake,” said Calvin, stifling another yawn. “What is it?”
“We’ve received multiple reports,” said Vargas, sounding eager.
“From who?” asked Calvin, feeling his interest grow.
“One is a message from the Harbinger; it was broadcast while we were docked at Aleator and so we’re just getting it now; it’s an older message, sir.”
Calvin wondered if Raidan had some kind of new intelligence for him, or if the Organization’s new leader—if rumors were to be believed, that Raidan had taken command of the Organization through a coup—had the audacity to ask Calvin for a favor, considering that the man had tried to exert control over Pellew and the other soldiers, directing them to usurp control of the Nighthawk.
“And the other message?” asked Calvin.
“I think you’d best get up here, sir, and see for yourself.”
“Very well.” Calvin dressed and made his way to the bridge. Once he got there, Vargas informed him that he’d piped the messages into the CO’s office and he could take them in there. So be it, thought Calvin
. This had better be good.
To Calvin’s surprise, the messages—of which there were three—each proved to be of crucial, game-changing importance.
The first message had been sent by Raidan aboard the Harbinger. To Calvin’s astonishment, the man had Caerwyn Martel with him, restrained. Also present were two of the highest ranking officials that remained loyal to the Imperial Assembly. The message was little more than a summary execution, and one that spared none of the graphic details. Raidan wanted the Empire to know that Caerwyn Martel was dead. It was an illegal, and probably unjust, execution, Calvin knew, certainly a violation of the law for which no pardon could be granted. But all the same, Calvin couldn’t help but feel a modicum of satisfaction at seeing Caerwyn’s head absorb the high-caliber handgun’s bullet as it had. When Caerwyn’s corpse fell to the floor, and the message ended—after pledges of allegiance to the queen from both Assembly members, possibly under duress—Calvin wondered if that meant the civil war had finally come to an end.
I don’t agree with your methods, Raidan, thought Calvin. And you will be forever hunted for this deed. But if you brought an end to this civil war, then I have to at least respect you for that, even if you did it in the most ignominious way possible.
The second message came from the Imperial Assembly itself; its timestamp was hours after the first, making it clear that Raidan had returned the high ranking Assembly members to the surface of Capital World and then fled the system. Calvin found it odd that this message, which was a broadcast of the remaining Imperial Assembly, was not sent directly from the Assembly Hall. And then he realized that, as part of his campaign of terror—which had forced the planet to surrender Caerwyn Martel into his custody, Raidan must have leveled the Assembly Hall, along with who knew how many other buildings and homes.
The Phoenix Reckoning (The Phoenix Conspiracy Series Book 6) Page 15