Undazzled

by Chance Maree

  Stunned expressions froze like death masks on every face in the room. No one spoke. Finally, Pots's husband, Victor, asked, “What can we do about it?”

  Gunner's eyes flashed. “After we've scoured the cities for any of our folks lucky enough to have escaped the robots, we will return to Earth and arm ourselves with soldiers and weapons. Once fortified, we’ll return to Ostara, or perhaps one of the other planets. My goal is to protect our people from another attack.

  “Then, from a position of strength, our army will track down the Canyon People and demand they return our citizens to their rightful form, or we will destroy them, even if it’s the last thing I do.”

  Heads nodded in approval.

  Tyr felt anger rise from the pit of his stomach. It was a monstrous beast, full of fire and venom that spread to scald his skin and focus his gaze and breath on one intense point—Gunner must die. The thought surprised, and then haunted him until nothing else mattered.

  Reaching inside Gunner, Tyr visualized explosions of every blood vessel in the commander's brain, eyes, face, throat, a large burst of the heart’s chambers, aorta spewing into guts…and just as Tyr launched imagination into reality, an internal force from another deep part of himself slammed against his focus like a blindsided tackle. Tyr's eyes snapped open and saw—Barbara Percy.

  She ballooned like a puffer fish, eyes bloodshot and veins pulsing before spraying the walls with red gore. People screamed and ran. The commander made a sound like a roar and fell to his knees. Tyr's gaze met Gunner's eyes before the world slipped away.

  CHAPTER 33

  Pilot Pots Kahn-Anderson

  During the first voyage of Alpha Horizon from Earth to Ostara, her carrier cars functioned as work, living, or storage units. The stress of evacuation and transformation into animal-headed creatures had proved too much for some folks, thereby producing a need for timeout rooms. Pots walked a corridor lined with double layered doors to what were essentially prison cells. The outer doors were iron barred, and when Pots peeked into one such room, she saw the inner door was thickly padded, as were the walls and floor, except for a small hatch that served as a toilet.

  Only one room, at the end of the corridor, had the outer door locked. The inner door was slightly ajar. Pots reached between the bars and pushed the padded door inward. Tyr looked up. He was huddled in the corner with his arms wrapped around his knees. When the boy saw Pots, he hid his face and yelled, “Go away! You're not safe here.”

  “I heard what happened. I’m here for your side of the story.”

  “I killed an innocent person. What more do you need to know?”

  “Did you mean to kill Barbara Percy?”

  “I was aiming for the commander.”

  “Since Gunner's not here, I'll consider myself safe.” Pots sat cross-legged in the corridor, by the door.

  “Everyone is afraid of me now.”

  “I'm not.”

  Tyr stretched out his legs. “When my face changed from normal to hideous, I told myself it was okay because deep inside I wasn't really a monster. Then out comes this murderous rage. Even this face doesn't express the true vileness of it.”

  Now was not the time for Pots to explain that everyone has a dark side. Most people can feel angry without killing anyone. However, Pots needed to say something. “After getting off the raft, while my head was splitting from pain, I envisioned Gunner blasting out of the garbage chute. Imagining the bastard as he turned into a cherry icicle eased my headache.”

  Tyr winced.

  Okay. That wasn't helpful. “Look. Gunner isn't afraid of you,” Pots said hesitantly. “To show everyone that you’re not dangerous, he’s delivering your meals himself.”

  “The commander knows I’m no threat to him. But why are you here, risking your own safety?”

  “I figure the best course is to do the opposite of what Gunner wants.” Pots leaned forward and pressed her face against the bars. “Gunner said he watched you try to land the raft. By the time he got to the airstrip, I was on the ground, unconscious, and you were calling for help.”

  “Right. I was happy to see the commander alive.”

  Pots sat back. “Really?” Something is wrong with that scenario. “My memory is sketchy. You, Ata, and I were on a shuttle. We landed on Alpha Horizon. Next thing I know, I'm vomiting, my head is pounding, and I'm back on Alpha Horizon.”

  Tyr shifted his seat. “We were on a rescue mission. The landing was rough. You stumbled outside, maybe had a stroke or something. Anyway, you hit your head pretty hard when you fell.”

  “But what happened to Ata? Did we leave her on Ostara?”

  Tyr froze, then shook his head. “I don't know.”

  “Seems you have a memory lapse of your own.”

  As impossible as it seemed, the pain in Tyr's face increased. Pots reached through the bars to soothe him, but the boy curled his body away.

  “What’s happening to me?” he cried. “Did I murder Ata, too?”

  “No!” Pots knelt and grabbed the bars. “That's impossible. Don't even think it!”

  Tyr looked up with red, watery eyes. “Pots, I am a danger to everyone. Everything was going fine when I was with the natives. They accepted me. For the first time in my life, I felt normal. But now, it's like I've gone insane. Everyone is terrified of me. I'm a murderer.” He paused and wiped his nose with the back of his hand. “Pots, tell me the truth—is Gunner planning to kill me?”

  “That's not going to happen.”

  “I’m sorry for what I did. But, I don't want to die.”

  A voice from the corridor startled Pots. “Death comes for everyone eventually.”

  Turning, Pots saw Celine standing behind her. The tigress purred at the small monkey cradled in her arms. “But not for you, darling. Not today.”

  A love-sick expression washed over Tyr's face, softening its creases and brightening his sunken eyes.

  The kids a typical male, after all. “What are you doing here, Celine?” Pots's voice was cold. “And what's with the monkey?”

  “This is Rafiki. Isn't he the cutest?” Celine smiled. “Anyway, I thought while Gunner's away, this kitty will free the brave, little mouse.”

  Tyr stood. “Can you get me out of here? If I could take the space raft, I’ll fly to Ostara, live in the mountains, and never hurt anyone again.”

  “That’s fine in theory, but the door is secured and Gunner is the only one with the code,” Pots said.

  Celine pulled out a security card and swiped it over the lock pad. “Not a problem.”

  Tyr bolted from the room. “Where’s Gunner? If he sees me, or I hear his voice…” Tyr's hand grasped the side of his head. “My com unit! What if Gunner can override the ‘off’ switch? Of course he can. I bet he only allowed me to believe I could be free of him. I'll never escape. He'll always be inside my head.”

  “Calm down. Gunner’s on Ostara, rescuing people.” Celine moved down the corridor. Even with gravity boots, she managed a coquettish swish of her hips. “We have plenty of time to remove the com unit and put you on one of those little spaceships.”

  “Can't you just stick your finger in your ear and rip the com out?” Pots shrugged. “That's what they do in the movies.”

  Tyr raised his hand towards the side of his head, and then immediately dropped it back to his side. “Not possible. I can kill people, but I'm unable to harm myself.”

  Pots frowned, impatient. “Well, it’ll only hurt a little. I saw a movie where the guys ripped out their own coms, and then battled an entire army of space alien leeches.”

  Celine rolled her eyes. “Blood Sucking Zombies? I can't believe you watched that.”

  “Are there any surgeons on board?” Pots glanced down the empty corridor. “It's not like we can make a general announcement.”

  “I can do it.”

  Both Pots and Tyr looked at Celine with evident skepticism.

  “In Death Blow, my character had to remove the com unit of her lover before he goes
on a spy mission behind enemy lines. I wanted the scene to be realistic, so the studio hired a doctor to teach me how to perform the operation.”

  Tyr's largest eye gleamed soft as a doe's.

  Pots scowled as she led the way to the nearest infirmary. Spying down each corridor, she listened for footsteps or chatter. The large ship with so few passengers nearly guaranteed that Tyr's escape could be accomplished in secret.

  It was a good thing, too, because Tyr was making no attempt to hide. The boy, now taller than Pots, followed Celine like a pet. Pots had a difficult time believing that a genetically engineered genius with military discipline and conditioning, was susceptible to an eyelash fluttered by a siren. It didn't make sense that Tyr would seem so…human. The destroyed experiments from Dr. Stevenson's lab included a specimen that could swim in acidic ocean waste without perishing. Another had been designed to explode on command, with the potential of dispersing either toxic chemical gases or gene targeted viruses. Public opinion supported extermination of all Stevenson's bio-weapons, never considering them human. Tyr had shown himself to be just as dangerous and Gunner was a criminal for concealing such a weapon. As harsh as the opinion felt, Pots believed Gunner and Tyr should return to Earth where government officials—or whoever was in charge—would decide their fate.

  So why am I helping him? Pots wondered as they slipped inside the infirmary and locked the entrance.

  “Can I pet the monkey?” Tyr whispered to Celine. “I've never seen an animal from Earth before.” With a gentle and tentative hand outstretched, Tyr looked like a child, full of wonder. The monkey touched the tip of Tyr's fingers with its own tiny hand. Tyr laughed which was an invitation for the creature to hop on Tyr's shoulder and nestle its face against the boy's cheek. Tyr's mismatched eyes sparkled.

  Pots knew she would help him escape. But Gunner will not be so lucky.

  “The monkey shouldn't be here,” Pots said. “We need to make the room sterile for the operation.”

  Celine spoke into her com, “Dr. Byrd, come get Rafiki.”

  “First, this is supposed to be a secret operation,” Pots said, with what was perhaps an exaggerated amount of exasperation. “Second, that's Byrd's monkey?”

  “Rafiki popped out of the doctor's bag during our impromptu therapy session. The silly shrink’s been hiding Rafiki all along, thinking people would harm the little darling. I told him that was nonsense, and if Byrd dared put the poor thing back in a bag, the doctor himself would have to worry about a public lynching. I insisted that I'd introduce Rafiki to everyone myself, and he has accumulated quite a fan club.” Celine added, “Anyway, Byrd has a medical degree, doesn’t he? It wouldn't hurt to have a doctor in the room.”

  Pots opened one of the many cabinets lining the wall. “We'll need anesthetic, antiseptics, and antibiotics.” She turned to Celine. “Maybe Byrd should operate.”

  Celine laughed. “I was kidding. You know Byrd—he'll likely faint at the mention of blood.”

  Pots had to agree. She continued looking through the cabinets. “Do either of you know anything about pharmaceuticals?” Tyr and Celine shook their head. “I wish Jacob were here.” The thought brought a tightness to Pots's throat. “I meant to look for him when Tyr and I were on Ostara.” She rubbed her head. “This concussion still hurts a little. I should take more of the pills Spade gave me.”

  “Spade?” Tyr squinted.

  “My brother. He brought me painkillers. Spade has his problems, but he knows drugs.” He’s even has been imprisoned on two planets for it—but Pots didn't say that. She signaled her brother on her com. “I'm looking at heaps of pharmaceuticals here. What's a good anesthetic?”

  “I got your location. Will be right there!”

  “No!” Pots yelled into her com, but Spade ignored his sister's command, and the cursing that soon followed.

  The infirmary seemed a bit smaller and less intimidating with Byrd and Spade in the room. Pots and Celine filled them in on their plan to remove Tyr's com and allow him to escape to Ostara. Both men argued against releasing the boy after he'd killed Barbara Percy, but Tyr’s remorse, his explanation that her death had been accidental, and his desire to remove himself from civilization and live out his life in the wilds of Ostara began to thaw their resolve.

  “Tyr is not the criminal here,” Pots insisted. “He was created in a lab and conditioned by an egomaniac, then Gunner kept him as his personal secret weapon.”

  “He didn’t intend to kill Barbara. Tyr was aiming for Gunner,” Celine added. “And who would blame the boy for that?”

  Byrd was the first to crumble. “I agree that the commander is the bigger threat. As long as Tyr is around, Gunner could make use of his destructive capabilities. Personally, I think a war against the Canyon People cannot turn out well—no matter what kind of weapons Gunner accumulates.”

  Spade frowned and shook his shaggy moose head. “Gunner recommended they lock me up and throw away the key, and I harbor some resentment about that, but he’s the leader, and he has military experience. This universe is turning out to be an unfriendly place, so I'm not certain we should piss him off or take away his weapons.”

  Pots wanted to punch her brother, and might have if they'd been alone. “Tyr can hear you, you know.”

  “So?”

  “He could kill you, too, if he wanted to.”

  Spade backed up a step. “Don’t worry! I'm no squealer.”

  “My point is,” Pots continued, “Tyr wouldn't do that. He's lived with us, and never once has he hurt anyone. Gunner would force Tyr to kill against his will. Is that what you want in a leader? And if he'd do that to Tyr, what else would he do? Where does the manipulation and aggression stop?”

  Spade perched himself on a stool. “Sis, I disagree with you, but you know I'm here to help. What drugs do you need?”

  Brother, that line has gotten you into trouble before. “I would guess we need to sterilize the tissue, numb the pain, and prevent infection, but Celine's the expert.” Pots couldn't help a stab of sarcasm.

  Celine scrubbed her hands and arms with a sanitizer. She chose a pair of small surgical gloves and rolled them expertly over her hands. “The doctor who taught me how to perform this procedure said to start by shaving the area of the head behind the right ear, which is the standard location for all com units.”

  Tyr gave Rafiki to Dr. Byrd and then stretched out on the examination table. “I don't want anesthesia,” he said.

  Byrd paced nervously with the monkey in his arms. “I think Rafiki needs to use the little boy’s room. Besides, an operating room is no place for an animal. If you don't need me, we will return later.”

  “No problem, Doctor,” Celine said, smiling.

  Pots handed Celine a razor and watched as the actress removed fur, feathers, and a few scales to form a bare patch along the area behind Tyr's ear. Pots dabbed the marbled skin with an antiseptic solution while Celine broke the seal on a packet of sterilized surgical tools. She withdrew a laser scalpel and adjusted the setting. “Sure you don't want something to make this more comfortable?”

  Spade hopped off the stool. “If I were you, bro, I'd take advantage of medical nirvana. Believe me, they have some fast acting shit here. You'll be numb and happy in no time.”

  “No thanks,” Tyr grunted.

  Tyr doesn't like Spade. Pots couldn't blame him, after what Spade had said, but she knew her brother wouldn't sabotage the operation. “Spade, Tyr will need a shot of antibiotics. Could you find some for us?”

  Spade walked directly to a cabinet. Quickly—too quickly, Pots thought—Spade withdrew two bottles. “I recommend these. There’s plenty of numbing agents, in case our friend changes his mind.”

  “No drugs,” Tyr snarled.

  Pots nodded at Spade. Get them ready. Spade met her eyes, and then turned away. Since they were children, Pots envied Spade's ability to accurately interpret body language.

  Celine took a deep breath. “Ready, brave guy?”

  Tyr
nodded. As Celine moved the scalpel toward his head. Tyr’s hand shot out and grabbed her wrist, but immediately released his grip. “I'm sorry. That was a reflex. I can’t allow you to cut me, apparently.”

  Celine recovered from her fright and slid easily into a calm demeanor. “In Death Blow, my character, Laura, had to remove her lover's com without anesthesia. The city was under attack. Bombs exploding, mobs rioting in the streets… Laura didn't have any resources. She had to think quickly.” Celine looked up at Spade and micro-nodded.

  Tyr asked, “What did Laura do?”

  Celine set down the laser and removed her gloves. “She took off her clothes and operated on her lover, nude.” As Celine unzipped the top of her jumper, Tyr's eyes focused unabashedly on her chest. In one quick motion, Spade discharged a syringe into Tyr's shoulder. The boy swung his arm wide, knocking Spade to the floor. Tyr fell back hard onto the examination table.

  Celine zipped up her top and pulled on surgical gloves. “I knew that would work.” She snapped on a surgical mask.

  Pots held Tyr's head as Celine operated the laser. A thin pink line formed an arc behind his floppy ear. Celine spread the skin apart with fingers of one hand and applied short bursts from the flat tip of the instrument to the corner of the com. “This doesn’t look right.”

  Pots fought a wave of nausea. The com was a sliver of sliver interlaced with flesh and a thin white tube. She steadied herself against the table and dabbed at the blood seeping from the wound. “You're saying real life isn't a movie? Maybe an actress shouldn’t go around operating on people?”