Space Corps: Symbiant (Space Corps Book 2)

by K. D. Mattis

  Leaning forward, Asher placed her hands on her chin. “I didn’t skip many workouts. If I could get them done, then I did.”

  “That’s all well and good, but it doesn’t change anything. Some people are just more susceptible to the effects of zero gravity. Unfortunately for you, you happen to be one of those people.”

  “So, what do we do?” Asher couldn’t hide the disappointment in her voice, so she didn’t try.

  “Well, as I said, the best option would be for you to avoid going into space for a while.”

  “Not an option,” Asher said flatly.

  “Then you’ll just have to deal with the consequences. Hitting all of your workouts should prevent the condition from worsening, but it’s not going to get better than it is today.”

  Asher left the room feeling worse than she did going in. As she walked, she felt the slight tremble in her knee. It wanted to give out. She hated the sensation and tried her best to ignore it.

  Going down the halls of the Space Center left Asher in view of a considerable number of people. Most snapped to a salute as she passed. Others continued with their duties if it wasn’t possible to stop and recognize her presence. Either way, everyone noticed her as she passed, and she begged her knees to continue supporting her. She didn’t like feeling weak and decided to do something about it.

  After a quick stop in her office, Asher continued down to the gym. She changed out of her uniform in the locker room and returned a few minutes later wearing black shorts and a gray shirt. Not many people shared the room with her. It was early in the evening, and most people were either preparing to end their shifts or were just starting. That left few people available to work out.

  With a stone face, Asher pushed through her warm up. Most of the work was some form of plyometric and active stretching. The rest consisted of Asher staring down the equipment as she prepared to make use of it.

  Asher set the bar in place in the squat rack and loaded it up with weights. She started small, not wanting to injure herself. With every rep at a lower weight, she gained confidence and power. After she completed a set, she added more weight and repeated the cycle of lifting, resting, and adding weight until her body screamed in agony.

  She loved the pain.

  Sweat poured down her face, and Asher unloaded the bar and moved to the bench press. Her arms were a weak point, but that knowledge forced her to work even harder. She set up in a powerlifting pose and went to work. Near the end of her third set, her arms shook, and the weight wavered. Without waiting for the request, a fellow officer jumped off his treadmill and jogged over to provide a spot. Asher pushed through her last rep. She struggled, but she completed the lift without the assistance of her volunteer spotter. She thanked him with a nod and moved over to the deadlifting platform.

  Pushing through each rep, Asher felt powerful. Her lifts weren’t as large as they once were—her time in space had taken a noticeable toll—but they were still impressive for someone her size. She closed her eyes and focused on the movement and the contraction of her muscles. At that moment, nothing else mattered, and she let the world slip away.

  By the time she let her head hit her pillow that night, Asher’s body was ready to drop from exhaustion. For the first time in a while, she allowed herself to fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.

  14

  Robert Harris looked himself over in the mirror. His mouth opened in disgust at his disheveled appearance. The baggy, green shirt didn’t even come close to fitting him properly, and the stains made him look like a slob. He pressed his hands down the front of the shirt and pants in a futile attempt to work out the wrinkles.

  “Are you really worried about that?” asked an elderly man standing by Robert’s side.

  Ignoring the voice, Robert hurried over to the door and engaged the lock. He tossed his clothes over the side of the stall of one of the toilets, and he hurried back to the sink. He wet a handful of paper towels and ran them over his body. Once he finished, he smelled his armpit. Twisting his head to the side, he reached down and tried to wash the area once again.

  “It’s not going to get better.”

  Robert glared at the old man. “Unless you have a bar of soap over there, you’d better keep quiet.”

  “Did you try the hand soap? It’s got to be better than nothing.”

  Several pumps on the dispenser yielded only the smallest drop of soap. It wasn’t much, but he decided it had to be better than nothing and rubbed it vigorously into his armpits. After a good rinse with more wet paper towels, Robert pushed his hand up to his face. His week-old beard scratched his palms.

  “Our guy isn’t going to care what you look like. He probably thinks you’re ugly, anyway. Let’s go.”

  The old man leaned against the toilet stall impatiently.

  Rolling his eyes, Robert said, “Maybe not, but the rest of the world will.”

  “Planning on getting close to anyone else?”

  Robert glared at the old man. “That’s not the goal, but if I’m going to blend in with people, I can’t completely avoid getting close.”

  A pounding on the door caught the attention of both men. As Robert rushed to throw his clothes back on, the old man vanished into thin air.

  Robert didn’t have time to get to the door before he heard a click and saw it thrown open. A large man stormed into the room and glared at Robert.

  “Why’d you lock the door?” He took notice of the large pile of paper towels and pieced everything together. His tone softened. “Homeless?”

  Thinking quickly, Robert nodded and looked meekly at the floor.

  The man stepped forward and put a hand on Robert’s shoulder. “Look, I’m sorry man, I’ve been there. But this bathroom is for customers, and I can’t have you using it as a hotel.”

  “I’m sorry,” Robert muttered, shifting his feet.

  “My church is just down the road. You can see the steeple from the sidewalk. They might be able to set you up with something for a few days. It won’t be great, but it’ll be something.”

  Nodding slowly, Robert said, “Thanks. Anything’s better than nothing.” He then allowed the man to escort him out of the gas station and started walking up the street toward the church. He turned to face the gas station worker and gave him a friendly wave. When the man went back in the building, Robert turned down the first street he came to.

  The old man reappeared.

  “This town’s so small,” Robert said. “Why would your people travel to a new star system just to live it up in a podunk town like this?”

  The old man sighed and kicked at a rock in the sidewalk. His foot passed through it without making a sound. “Small towns don’t draw a lot of attention. If our cover’s blown, we can move on to another small town with ease. And, as you saw, people tend to be nice in places like this. Makes it easier to get by.”

  The pair wandered for hours, just turning down street after street. For the most part, the old man led the way with confidence. He would walk forward at a good pace. At other times, he suddenly stopped, looked around, and took a few cautious steps in several directions before picking one.

  After witnessing this indecision a few times, Robert stopped in his tracks. “Do you know where we’re going?”

  The old man picked up the pace suddenly and walked across a yard. He stopped in front of a tree and put his ear against it, as if he was listening for a message the rest of the world wouldn’t know to look for. A few seconds later, he stepped back and continued down another random path with a disappointed look across his face.

  Robert reiterated his question, and the old man snapped, “This isn’t any easier for me than it is for you.”

  “What are you looking for? Maybe I can help,” Robert said.

  “No. You don’t have what it takes to pick up the signal.”

  “You could help me. At least let me know what sort of instructions you’re getting. Who knows? I might be able to make sense of them.”

  The old man laughed a
nd continued. “I’ll give you humans one thing. You’re nothing if not persistent.”

  The pair walked for hours ignoring the cries of Robert’s body to stop for rest, food, or something to drink. Once they reached the outskirts of the small town, the old man ran forward with the energy of a child. He was left waiting for Robert to continue dragging his feet.

  “It’s here,” the old man said while clapping.

  Pointing to a rusting car that must have been sitting in that spot for a decade or more, the old man ran around and jumped for joy. He reached out to it a few times, but his touches didn’t make a difference.

  Grabbing the handle of the door, Robert pulled. The door didn’t move easily. Grass and rust melded together to hold it shut in defiance of his efforts. When he threw all his weight into it, he still barely managed to get it to move. After a few violent pulls with the full weight of his body and a foot on the back door for leverage, the driver’s side door finally gave.

  The old man jumped in and began looking around. “It has to be here somewhere.”

  “What does?”

  “A beacon, of course,” said the old man, surprised at Robert’s ignorance. “That’s how we share information that we’ve gathered. It’s not like we can just meet up at Starbucks. Most of our hosts aren’t exactly presentable.”

  A thorough search of the car showed them nothing, but a woman took Robert by surprise.

  “Just what do you think you’re doing here?” the woman asked.

  Thinking back to before, Robert replied, “Sorry, ma’am. It’s supposed to rain later. I’m just looking for a place to keep dry for a bit. Given the condition of the car, I figured no one would mind if I camped out in it.”

  The woman snorted. “That car belonged to my daddy back when he was around. It may not look like much to you, but that car is a classic and worth a heck of a lot more than you.”

  Robert looked back down at the hunk of rust in front of him and frowned. He didn’t appreciate the insult but decided to leave it unchallenged.

  “Just a night, ma’am. I’ll leave first thing in the morning.”

  “Ain’t no rain coming today,” said the woman.

  “What?” Robert asked, again playing stupid. “My knee only bothers me when it’s going to rain, and it’s bothering me awful bad right now.”

  The woman’s expression twisted into a grotesque smile. “You know what? I think I can get you a dry place to sleep for the night.”

  The woman entered three numbers into her phone. Robert realized what she meant and ran off.

  “What are you doing? We have to find the beacon. I know it’s there,” said the old man.

  “You might be right, but it won’t do us any good if we’re thrown in prison. If the cops have any sense, they’ll figure out who I am pretty quick, and we’ll go right back to the Space Center.”

  The old man started to protest, but let his expression soften a moment later and fell quiet. He disappeared.

  “Besides,” Robert said. “We can try again tonight.”

  True to his word, Robert returned to the house at the edge of town sometime after midnight. He did everything he could to stay quiet, avoiding branches and dry brush as he snuck onto the woman’s property. A dog next door nearly unraveled his plan by barking like mad. The owner of the property came out and scanned her backyard. Robert hid in the shadows of a tree, but hugged the ground, hoping to avoid making a silhouette. The woman screamed for her neighbor to shut the dog up and went back inside.

  The flicker of lights from a television lit up the walls of the living room of the house as Robert watched through the uneven blinds. When the irritated owner dragged his dog inside, Robert felt safe enough to continue and dragged himself across the lawn to the car. He braced to stand up, but noticed something sticking up from the ground.

  “It’s not in the car,” Robert said to his invisible, constant companion. “There’s a door down here.”

  “Do you have room to open it?”

  “Not with the car in the way. We’ll have to move it.”

  “How?”

  Robert rolled his eyes and pushed himself up. “I don’t know. I don’t have all the answers, you know.”

  Feeling unsteady, Robert reached out a hand toward the rusty vehicle and tried to hold on. He felt something moving and squirming in his mind. Flashes of old memories shot through his head until he came upon a realization.

  “No, that won’t work,” Robert said.

  “It can, and it will.”

  “I’m not going to steal a car just to move this one.”

  The voice in Robert’s head slowed and spoke very plainly. “You don’t have to like it, but there’s something greater at stake here than you realize.”

  “Then help me realize.”

  “The Culdarians are coming. If you want your planet to survive, then we need the information in that beacon.”

  “What information?”

  “I don’t know what it is; I just know how to find it.”

  Frustrated, Robert started shouting before he remembered where he was. He clasped a hand over his mouth and dropped behind the car. A few seconds later, he looked through the cloudy windows of the old, rusted car. Not seeing any movement, he turned back to the conversation in his head.

  Robert hissed, “You don’t even know what we’re looking for, but I’m supposed to believe it’s going to save us? Give me something, anything, to show me that you’re right.”

  A pain grew in Robert’s head. It wasn’t more than a quiet ache at first, but it quickly grew to a migraine and then a stabbing pain that made the back of his eyeballs throb. He tried to push the pain from his mind, but couldn’t. He dropped to his knees and pounded his head. A few moments later, he collapsed onto the ground, panting.

  “Listen to me, you primitive ape,” shouted the voice. “You’re not in control here. I’m willing to do everything I can to work with you, but we have things to do. If you don’t cooperate, you’ll pay the price. We don’t have time for your little games. Got it?”

  Panting from pain, anger, and frustration, Robert stood still for a moment before walking over to the woman’s house. He watched inside the house for nearly two hours after the woman went to bed before tapping on her window. He had to be sure she was asleep. When she didn’t respond, he broke a window and forced his way into the house. It took a bit of searching, but he walked away victorious with her keys in hand and walked to the front yard. There was the woman’s truck just sitting there waiting for him.

  Robert jumped in the car and turned the ignition. He continued watching the house for any signs of movement. Failing to see any, he drove the truck around to the back of the house. With no fence to worry about, he simply drove the car up and started pushing. The car didn’t budge at first, so he pushed down on the gas. The tires struggled to bite into the dirt, but finally did as he intended and pushed forward.

  The old car moaned as it moved. Again, Robert looked to the house for movement. When he still didn’t see any, he grew bolder and allowed his impatience to take hold. He put the truck in reverse before hitting the gas again, this time using some speed. The ensuing noise was more than he expected, but the strike did exactly as he hoped. The car jumped out of the way, exposing the metal door where it once stood. He kicked the truck in reverse and ran forward.

  The man dove into the dirt with a voice screaming victory in his mind. He tried to throw back the door but found it much heavier than he anticipated. He squatted down, grabbed the handle, and pulled in a slow, steady motion. His hands slipped on the handle, but he ordered his hands to keep their grip. When the door finally gave, he fell back only to scramble forward again.

  Porch lights turned on in the house and he saw her. The woman from before stood in the doorway with a shotgun in her hand. Her surprise at seeing her truck next to the badly damaged car gave Robert just the opportunity he needed. His hands moved erratically through the hole under the door until he pulled out an old, leather brief
case. The voice in his head ordered him to open it, but gave up on the order as the woman opened fire.

  Robert jumped up and ran behind the woman’s truck. Through the passenger door, he entered the vehicle and threw it in reverse, taking care to keep his head below the edge of the windows. The driver side window exploded into hundreds of tiny pieces that bit into Robert’s exposed arms, but he ignored the pain. When he got the truck moving, he only looked over the steering wheel after he was moving too fast for the woman to shoot accurately.

  He didn’t stop driving until he reached the next town. When he did, he pulled over onto the side of the road and abandoned the truck. He didn’t know how long it would take for the police to look for the vehicle, but he knew they would. As he walked, he took note of a motel. Despite the peeling paint on the exterior, he would have loved nothing more than to spend a night in one of the rooms. He thought about stopping, but he didn’t have any money. Instead, he walked around the hotel. He walked around the perimeter and tried every handle he could that didn’t lead to a room.

  A janitor’s supply closet opened right up. Dust covered the floor, but the room would do what he needed for a night. After setting up in a corner, he let the voice talk once more.

  The old man appeared once again.

  “Open the case,” he said.

  Robert obeyed and pulled out a long cylinder with intricately placed designs. On one of the ends, a faint, green light flashed steadily.

  “Push the button,” ordered the old man.

  Once again, Robert obeyed. The cylinder lit up in a rainbow of neon colors that lit up the room. They danced around as the cylinder pulsated and twisted upon itself. Robert couldn’t believe what he saw. What was once a solid object turned into a liquid in his hands until it poured onto the floor, all the while continuing its light display. Every few seconds, it jumped and formed a new, solid object. Sometimes with spikes, sometimes with tiny, intricate structures. He knew the shapes must have had a meaning, but Robert couldn’t begin to guess what. The voice in his head went silent.