Perspective

by Myles Anderson

  Perspective

  By: Myles Anderson

  “I’m sorry, but I can’t help but wonder why we’re out here. Are you sure Trish can’t tell you anything?” Jack asked, his blue eyes staring out of the mess hall portal at the expanse of unfamiliar star clusters.

  “No, and since she has orders not to talk about it, I’m not going to ask her,” Pete replied. “And neither are you,” he added, cutting Jack off.

  “Of course you don’t want to ask her—you’re smitten. You’ve got a ship side romance to occupy your time. We’ve been out here for weeks, just drifting along. All the while you two play kissy face, and frankly watching you two stare dreamingly into each others eyes is boring,” Jack said, waving his arms in front of him for dramatic effect before running them through his short cropped blonde hair.

  “You’re just jealous,” Pete said with a grin.

  “And you’re whipped,” Jack snapped back. “Speaking of which,” he said nodding over Pete’s shoulder.

  Pete turned in his seat to see Trish and Mel walking towards them with their trays. In contrast to Mel’s short sandy hair and well-muscled build, Trish had more curves and a lighter frame that was just barely hidden underneath the blue and white medic’s uniforms they both wore—a frame that fit just right in his arms at night. Pete’s eyes lit up with expectation as she approached.

  “Oh yeah… whipped,” Jack said as he watched his friend.

  “Hey, babe,” Pete said as he pushed out a chair for her.

  “Hey,” she replied as she sat down and leaned over to give him a kiss.

  “Whuupship” Jack said, trying to imitate the sound of a whip cracking.

  “Jack,” Trish said with a grin.

  As Mel sat down next to Jack, Jack put his chin in his hand as he leaned on the table towards her. “How come you and I don’t get together?” he asked playfully.

  “Because, I have taste,” she retorted as she picked up her sandwich and took a bite.

  “Come on, you don’t know what you’re missing,” he quipped back suggestively with a wink.

  “Uh, yeah, I do--a court martial,” she said as she picked up her drink.

  “What?” Jack asked, looking puzzled.

  “A court martial,” she repeated as she leaned towards him. “Because, little man, I’d probably end up killing you,” she said as she snapped off a bite of her pickle.

  “Oh, then let me die happy in your arms,” Jack said lustfully as he leaned over with his lips puckered for a kiss, only to have Mel push his face away.

  “And you wonder why you’re single,” Trish interjected, laughing.

  “Whatever. I can’t be tied down to one woman anyway. I’ve got to spread the loving around,” Jack replied with playful indignation as he leaned back in his chair with a cocky grin on his face.

  “Ew,” both women said in unison.

  “Yeah, spread it like space herpes,” Pete responded, to which Jack just waved a dismissive hand.

  “So, we still on for tonight?” Pete asked, leaning in towards Trish. Mel stopped chewing and looked up as Trish shifted uneasily.

  “What? What is it” Pete asked, looking back and forth between the two of them.

  “Baby, I’m sorry. It’s just that...” she began.

  “Let me guess. Rayis…again,” Pete interrupted with a frustrated tone as he slumped back in his chair. Mel and Jack sat there intently looking at nothing as the drama unfolded before them.

  “He’s the head researcher on this mission and he wants to make sure everything is ready. Being attached to this assignment could help make my career,” she said.

  “Yeah, the mysterious assignment that has a fully loaded battle frigate meandering out here in deep space, traveling on nothing but inertia for the past three and a half weeks,” he responded bitterly.

  “You know I can’t tell you why we’re out here,” Trish said, anger beginning to rise in her voice.

  “And I don’t want you to. I just want to spend some time with my girl,” he snapped.

  “Pete, we’ve only been together for a few weeks, and I was assigned to this mission well before you and your squad were even brought aboard. So don’t make this sound like something new has come up. This is my job. This is what I do,” she bit back.

  “Hey, did anyone catch that vid of great galactic myths?” Jack interjected, trying to lighten the mood.

  “You know what? I’m not having this argument again,” Trish said as she picked up her tray and left.

  “Trish, wait,” Pete pleaded as he turned after her as she walked away.

  “Let her go, Pete,” Mel said quietly as she put her hand over his.

  “This is crap,” Pete bite out as he turned around in his seat.

  “Pete, listen. She was a nervous wreck before we got here, knowing she was going to have to cancel again. It’s not easy on her, either. Maybe you should keep that in mind and try to see things from her point of view, if you don’t want to lose her,” Mel said.

  “Excuse me?” Pete said defensively.

  “I mean, you’re putting too much pressure on her. She’s beginning to feel like she has to choose. You just need to be there for her right now, because if you make her choose, I can promise you’ll lose,” she said flatly. Finishing the last bit of her sandwich, she too got up and left.

  Pete could feel Jack sitting there looking at him. “What?”

  “She has a point,” Jack said.

  “What do you know?”Pete snapped agitated and tense as he stabbed his fork at the food on his tray.

  “I know Trish is one of the hottest girls on the ship and she has options. And I know that flyboy, Sam, is still trying to stay in the wings, just waiting for you to crash and burn. And I know that if you don’t check that insecurity of yours, you’re going to push her away. That’s what I know,” Jack said.

  Pete tensed even more at hearing the name of Trish’s ex-boyfriend. The normally friendly rivalry between grunts and fighter pilots--“flyboys”--had elevated to pure animosity between the two of them because of Trish. She had dumped Sam a few weeks before Pete had come aboard because he was a “self-absorbed, selfish jerk” as she had put it. When Trish and Pete started seeing each other, Sam’s ego couldn’t stand the fact that he’d been traded in for a lowly “mudbug”, as the pilots liked to sometimes refer to the grunts.

  “I’ll see you later,” Pete said gruffly, as he got up to find Trish.

  “You’re still whipped!” Pete heard Jack shout behind him as he went into the corridor. Pete stepped into the nearest acceler-tram and headed towards the auxiliary hanger bay that had been refitted as a science lab specifically for Rayis and his team.

  Entering the bay, Pete walked around the edges towards the rear bio-analysis lab where Trisha worked. Seeing her work station empty, he walked up to Jennifer, who intently stared at her work screen. The light from the screen reflected off of her pale skin, the curls of her long red hair highlighting blonde in the glow.

  “Hey, Jen…” Pete started, as she quickly held up a finger indicating for him to wait.

  Pete stood around and then after a moment she clicked something on her keypad and looked at Pete.

  “Have you seen Trisha?” he asked.

  “You just missed her. She’d just come back from lunch when Rayis told her to get her gear ready,” she said.

  “Ready for what?”

  “I’m not sure, but it looks like they are going into the field,” Jen said as a beep from her screen caused her to look away. “Sorry, but I’ve got to get this,” she said, moving back to the screen.

  “Field?” Pete asked himself as he walked out of the bay. Looking up, he saw Rayis rushing around his office on the second level, the little man hastily throwing equipment into a small
bag. Pete growled under his breath as he headed towards Trisha’s quarters.

  “You’re so closed minded!” Trisha yelled as she packed, her fair-skinned cheeks beginning to redden with frustration.

  Pete sat on the other side of the bed watching her angrily throw part of her light blue medical uniform in her field pack. This was definitely not going the way he had wanted.

  “It’s just a stupid survey on some remote planet. I just don’t see why you can’t let someone else go,” he said defensively.

  “So what I do is stupid now? What, just because I don’t tote a gun around shooting up bad guys makes my job unimportant? There’s a lot more going on in this universe besides what Peter Jonathan Hower believes is important,” she said defiantly, slamming shut her suitcase. “Ouch!”

  “Let me take a look at that,” Pete said, his tone softening as he walked towards her.

  As he approached, she turned away from him, still holding her throbbing index finger. Irritated, she hastily opened the suitcase again and stuffed a dark blue sleeve tip hanging over its tan exterior underneath the white edge of her undergarments.

  “I’m a med-tech, remember? I think I can handle it,” she said as she closed the lid again, this time making sure all her fingers were safely clear.

  “Oh, stop being stubborn,” he said, taking her hand into his. Smiling tenderly, he caressed her delicate finger and then kissed it softly, letting her skin linger subtly against his lips.

  “Look, I’m sorry. I don’t think your job is stupid or that you can’t handle yourself. I just don’t like the idea of you volunteering to run off to some remote section of space,” Pete said, looking deeply into her soft brown eyes.

  “I love you,” he said suddenly. The surprise he felt at saying it was mirrored by the look on Trisha’s face and widened eyes.

  “You’ve never said that to me before,” she said quietly, as he felt the tension in her hands ease.

  “You know why,” Pete said, drawing her towards him and gently kissing her rosy lips.

  “I know. I love you too,” she said, her eyes still closed.

  “Patterson, we depart in fifteen minutes,” a disimpassioned and stark voice interrupted over the intercom.

  “I’m on my way,” she replied after a few seconds. For a moment they stood in the middle of the room, their foreheads resting softly against each other, as their noses touched tenderly.

  “We’ll discuss this when I get back,” she said, pulling away from Pete. She then lifted her suitcase off the bed and walked towards the door.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said giving a mock salute before hurrying to catch up to her.

  As the door silently slid open, they walked out into the passageway holding hands, Trisha’s head resting on Pete’s shoulder. At the end of the corridor, he turned her slowly towards him.

  “I’ve got sim-training in a few minutes,” Pete said, taking in every detail of her face, from the tiny crow’s feet just beginning to form around her eyes to the small bow of her lips.

  “Go on; I can make it to the hanger bay by myself. I’m a big girl,” she said grinning.

  “Just be careful, alright?” Pete said.

  “Fine, fine,” she said, turning abruptly.

  Pete caught the slightest whiff of her peach scented perfume as she whipped her long dark hair in his face.

  “Cute,” he said.

  “Thank you,” she replied, smiling over her shoulder as she walked away.

  Late the next night, Pete found himself being woken up by Jack.

  “Pete, wake up. We’ve got to talk. It’s important,” Jack said, his voice solemn.

  “What is it?” Pete asked as he turned over, not even opening his eyes.

  “It’s about Trisha.”

  “Jack, for the last time, if you want to ask Jennifer out, then you’re going to have to do it yourself,” Pete said as he pulled his covers over his head.

  “It’s not that.”

  “Same thing goes for Mel.”

  “Pete…”

  “Jack, listen, you need to meet girls…”

  “Pete, I just talked to Mel. Trisha’s team has missed their last two check-ins and sensors lost track of their locator beacon. Pete, she’s missing.”

  ******************************************************

  Over the next few days, with every break he got, Pete would go to the communications tower to hear of any news.

  In combat training, he’d been dressed down by Sgt. Tyrus for improperly setting a camo-mine.

  “Damn it, boy, if this had been live, you’d be sprayed across the landscaped in a thousand slimy pieces. Now, get your head out your ass and on your job solider!” Tyrus had said.

  At the end of the day, when worrying had exhausted him to the point where he had to sleep, his dreams were consumed by Trisha. In them, Pete constantly ran after her, only to have her disappear as soon as he got close enough to touch her, leaving him feeling powerless and empty. His dreams only intensified when he found out that contact had been lost with the ship sent to recover Trisha’s.

  He was having that same dream now. His legs felt like lead; his breaths came in labored gasps. The harder he ran, the further away she seemed to be. Without warning, the ground beneath him began to shake, and he felt himself falling helplessly into an open pit.

  A sharp pain struck Pete in the leg, and suddenly he was awake. Looking around, he saw Griswald’s broad white teeth grinning at him. The red signal light inside the drop deck glowed eerily off the smooth ebony skin of his bald head.

  “Have a nice nap, sleeping beauty?” Griswald asked, a sarcastic smile growing on his broad lips.

  “Until I had to see your ugly mug. Where are we?” Pete replied crustily, trying to shake off the last remnants of his dream.

  “Just jumped into the normal space. We’re dusting off the Io’s hanger deck now.”

  “Glad you could join us, Hower,” Sergeant Green said gruffly as he passed Pete and the others on his way towards the front of the cabin. His suit helmet bounced off his back, making a hollow metal thud each time it recoiled off of the armor plating.

  Pete fidgeted uncomfortably as he remembered the amount of groveling he had to do to get assigned to the rescue mission. Pete had to beg Sgt. Tyrus to release him so he could join the rescue team; after which, he had to convince Sgt. Green to allow him to go—none of which had endeared him to Green in the slightest. The only reason Green had acquiesced was because Pete had extensive hostile terrain experience, which he convinced Green would be of benefit on this mission.

  Green stopped in front of the glossy black screen of the tactical monitor and typed on its pad, individual keys glowing slightly greener as he pressed them. A quick yellow flash briefly illuminated the cabin’s dark interior as the screen lit up. The image of a planet rotated slowly before them, heavy white clouds floated over the mottled brown and teal landscapes as various statistics scrolled down the right side of the screen.

  “This is planet PX113A. Three standard Earth days ago, a TX3 Two-Edge was dispatched here to recover a civilian medical research team headed by one Charles Rayis. The last transmission received from the Two-Edge was right before it entered the atmosphere. Since that time, there has been no word from either the medical team or the crew and unit of the Two-Edge,” Green said, his piercing hazel brown eyes scanning his audience to insure he had their attention.

  “The original landing zone was in this area,” he continued pointing to a small white square that glowed on the image of the planet. The screen automatically responded by zooming in on the base of a mountain range just above the planet equator, its brown ridges lying across the surface like a jagged, scarring wound.

  “We’ll land three clicks out and set up base before making our way to the original LZ. Once the area is secure, we’ll sweep outward in a standard search pattern. This is a recovery – rescue, people. We’re in and we’re out.”

  “Any idea what happened to them, Sarge?” Grecko as
ked, the drawing out of his A’s the only remnant of his Italian accent.

  “We’re here to find out. Last report on this sector indicated no activity in this region,” Green responded.

  “What about sythoid rebels or AL’s?” Jones chimed in as she pulled her suit gloves over her tan, muscular hands.

  “The rebels are based in the outer rings of the Vega system. They don’t have the means to make it out this far, and even if they did, there is little here that would interest them. The only alien life forms close to this region of space are the G’Kregos, but since this area is still within Terran dictated space, it’s unlikely they’re involved,” Green said, turning to face her. The yellow glow of the screen reflected dissonantly off his light brown skin.