Adrift (The Sirilians Book 1)

by Nicole Krizek

  I have to stop this! he told himself.

  He jumped out of bed, ignored the tangled bedding, and headed straight for the cleansing stall. He stepped out of his pants, braced his forearms on the wall, and hung his head while the tech cleaned his body.

  The only consolation was that the grief had killed his erection.

  After showering and dressing Karo heard the sound of his door’s alert. Someone was visiting. Thank goodness, he thought. It was a welcomed distraction from the lingering effects of his dream.

  “Enter.”

  Doors slid open to reveal Deian waiting on the other side. “You busy?” he asked.

  Busy? Would Deian count having erotic dreams as being busy? Or maybe the self-loathing Karo was getting to be a master at? No? Well then, he wasn’t busy at all.

  “No, please come in.”

  Deian entered and looked around. “Nice room.”

  “Thanks.” Please ignore the chaos on the bed.

  Karo looked closely at his friend. Something was wrong. He didn’t have his usual smile or air of optimism. “What’s the matter?”

  Deian plunked into one of the chairs in the sitting area, and ran a hand through his hair in agitation, causing the curls to stand out from his head.

  “I need your help.”

  Karo sat across from him. “Of course, what can I do?”

  “It’s your ship. I’m having problems with one of the systems: no matter what I do I can’t get the damn thing to power down.” He stood and began pacing back and forth in front of Karo, speaking rapidly and gesturing with his hands.

  “I can’t figure it out! My team’s been able to access all other systems without problem, but no matter what we do we can’t override the protocols and get into your cargo hold.

  “There’s a system running in there that we need to shut down before we can repair the conduits. We’ve been working on it since you left.” He stopped the pacing. “What do you keep in there?”

  For a moment Karo worried that he was referring to LINK, but immediately dismissed the notion. The AI was part of the ship’s mainframe; he didn’t occupy physical space on the ship. He thought about the small room and shook his head in confusion. What was in there?

  “I haven’t been inside it for years. I honestly thought it was empty.”

  Deian’s pacing continued. “Well it’s not. There are clear energy readings coming from inside, but we can’t figure out where they connect with the rest of the ship. It’s almost as if whatever is in there runs on its own independent power source, and believe me, it’s sucking a lot of power!”

  “What do you propose?”

  “I need you to come see if you can help me access it.”

  “Of course. I’ll do anything I can to help.”

  Deian looked relieved. “Good, let’s go.”

  Karo followed him out of his room and down the hall, thankful to have a task to occupy his time. He hated sitting idle.

  He’d thankfully been given a room that wasn’t far from the quarantine bay, so it didn’t take them long to enter the large space. Karo nearly stopped in his tracks. Damn! Arathians had one hell of a work ethic.

  Nearly the entire outer hull of his ship had been removed, and people were positioned on scaffolding around the exterior repairing internal parts. At the rear of the craft sat new propulsion engines, waiting to be installed. He didn’t recognize the compact design, but hoped that they were going to be faster than the ones he had previously.

  “You’ve accomplished all this in two days?!”

  “Sure did,” Deian replied cheerfully. “Keep in mind that we’re onboard a battlecruiser that’s assigned to Arath space with several hundred people onboard. Since there’s currently no threat to the planet, all of them are looking for projects.”

  That’s a lot of helping hands. He admired the work, and was dismayed to see how deteriorated the hull had become. He hadn’t realized. Guess that’s what eight-thousand years will do.

  The inside was in the same condition as the out. Most of the panels were gone, and crewmembers were changing out any old components that didn’t regenerate on their own.

  “Greetings Deian, Karo.”

  Karo stopped in his tracks as he heard LINK’s voice over the ship’s speakers. Anger and panic competed for dominance inside him: anger at LINK’s betrayal (never mind that he may have been the one to program the AI to alter his timeline), and panic that the Arathians would know his secret. How had he been discovered?

  “Hey LINK,” Deian greeted.

  How does he know his name? The answer rolled over Karo: Deian must have uncovered LINK’s matrix while he, Karo, had been away with the Grays. The anger and panic turned into guilt and panic. Would they be mad that he’d kept LINK a secret? Would they refuse to help him? Would they take LINK from him?

  Karo wasn’t happy with the AI at the moment, but that didn’t mean he wanted to lose his friend. He was the only connection Karo had to his homeworld.

  “Would you like to continue work on installing the new console?” LINK asked.

  “In a minute,” Deian answered.

  Karo couldn’t look the man in his eyes, afraid that he’d see censure.

  “You’ve made amazing progress,” Karo lamely commented, sweeping his hand to encompass the interior of the ship. He finally looked at Deian, who was studying him with alarming acuity. He seemed to make up his mind about something because he broke into a smile. A wave of relief surged over Karo.

  “Yeah, we had some free time on our hands while you were away. I was able to build you a new console, and even had time to find LINK tucked away in your main computer matrix.”

  Deian raised his eyebrows and gave him a dubious look. Karo’s guilt intensified. Deian was a lighthearted man but he was also fiercely protective of his race, and his mates. He wouldn’t take kindly to Karo keeping something as important as LINK a secret.

  It was time to grovel and hope that they forgave him.

  “I sincerely apologize for not making you aware of LINK.” Deian remained silent and Karo babbled. “When I was first brought onboard, I instructed him to hide his program in case you were a malicious race. Afterward, I got so caught-up with learning about my homeworld that I forgot to tell you about him until last night. But you have my word—I was going to tell you.”

  The corner of Deian’s mouth quirked into a half smile, and Karo knew that he was in the clear. Thank the universe.

  “I understand,” Deian replied. “But is there anything else we should know about?”

  Actually…

  Karo nodded. “There’s one more thing. Last night I accessed LINK’s matrix. I knew that in order to successfully trap me in my stasis unit without my knowledge, someone would have had to manipulate LINK to keep up the pretense.”

  Why was it so hard to confess this? Spit it out!

  “It was me. I’m the one who reprogrammed LINK, but I can’t remember doing it.” There: all of his secrets were bared. The Arathians knew everything, good and bad.

  Deian’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline, his eyes wide in surprise. “Why would you do that?”

  “I don’t know.” Karo ran his palm over his head in agitation. “I put layer upon layer of encryption over the changes, but I’m hoping that once I unravel it, I’ll find out why.”

  Deian nodded, then raised an eyebrow. “Perhaps the answers lie in the mysterious, locked cargo room?”

  Karo shrugged. That guess was as good as any.

  “I have no idea what we’re going to find in there—it may be nothing—but I’ll get to work on it right away.”

  Deian’s signature smile was back in place.

  He followed Deian towards the small cargo area in question at the rear of the vessel, careful to walk on the few floor panels that were left. The area looked different than it had before, and it took Karo a moment to remember that large cargo crates had been stacked in front of the door.

  Karo hadn’t thought about the small storage area
in years. Actually, he didn’t know why he’d ignored it for so long. As far as he knew, it was empty. So then why was it giving off an energy reading?

  “Here lies trouble,” Deian commented as they stopped in front of the door. He waved his hand towards the adjacent console, and Karo stepped forward. Right away it was clear that there was something wrong with this part of the ship. He entered his command codes, but they were overridden with security measures.

  “I don’t understand,” Karo muttered. “There’s no reason for the system to be acting like this.”

  Karo was completely intrigued, and somewhat nervous about what he was seeing. This ship was his home. He knew every inch of its hull and bulkheads. Why would he be locked out of this particular cargo room? How had he not noticed?

  “It’s not letting you into it?” Deian asked from over his shoulder.

  Karo shook his head. “LINK, can you access this cargo room?”

  “I cannot. The door’s console is the only point of access.”

  Damn. Looked like they were going to have to go at this the hard way.

  “Can you decrypt it?” Deian asked.

  “I think so, but it’ll take me a while to break down these security barriers.”

  Deian patted him on the back. “I’ll leave you to it then. LINK and I are going to keep installing this fancy piece of hardware, but you let me know if you find anything, okay?”

  Karo nodded, and Deian headed towards the new console. He shimmied underneath on his back and reached for the tools he’d left scattered around. When he spoke his voice was muffled.

  “LINK, let’s start at ten percent power, just in case I screwed up. I’d rather not meet my mates for lunch with energy burns on my face.”

  “Indeed, that would be unfortunate,” LINK replied. “Ten percent power beginning now.”

  Karo shook his head. It was weird to hear LINK talking—joking—with anyone but himself. He wanted to keep listening, but the mystery in front of him quickly captured his attention.

  He spent the entire day standing in front of the console attempting to get the doors open, but the encryption was intense. Just when he thought he was going to break through, the system rerouted him. It had clearly taken someone a very long time to write all of this code, but why was it even here? Who had gone to all this trouble to keep him out of an insignificant room?

  He was deeply concerned about the entire situation, but as the hours wore on, there was one thing in particular that worried him the most: every code had a signature, and just like before, this signature was clearly his.

  He had written the security code to keep everyone out… including himself.

  Why?! Why would I have locked myself out of the cargo room, and why can’t I remember doing it? Did I do it at the same time I manipulated LINK’s programming?

  He wracked his memories, but only succeeding in igniting pain—pain that usually preluded his hallucinations. He fought through the pressure, but the harder he tried to remember, the more pain he felt. He didn’t let it stop him. The answers must lie in this room. They had to!

  Why would I have created a security program like this? Why would I purposefully leap through time? What am I hiding?

  The pain intensified, and he pressed his palms to his head.

  Why can’t I remember?!

  Voices rang in his ears. Were they coming from the present? The past? He couldn’t tell the difference. The pain reached a crescendo, and Karo’s legs gave out as agony and blackness engulfed him.

  CHAPTER 23

  Images filled Karo’s mind, and he knew immediately that he was dreaming.

  In front of him was the Sirilian woman, but this time something was wrong. He usually saw her jovial, smiling, or sometimes writhing in passion. Now, her vibrant blue skin was sallow. Her brows were creased with worry, her hands were shaking as she wrung them together. His heart fell.

  What’s wrong? he silently beseeched her.

  It didn’t matter that she was only a figment of his imagination, a hallucination. He’d been seeing her for days now—even welcomed her illusion—especially since last night.

  A tear fell from her eye, leaving a streak of moisture down her cheek. He ached to comfort her.

  He tried to reach out, but couldn’t move his arms. He cried out in frustration, but she didn’t seem to hear. She began talking. He knew it was something important, something vital, and this time when he focused he began to hear her words.

  He hadn’t heard her speak since they’d made love—there’s no denying that’s what they’d done—and he found the sound soothing and familiar. Karo listened carefully. Whatever she was saying, it was important. She was important.

  She was also in trouble.

  “They can’t cure me,” she lamented.

  Cure her? Why would she need to be cured? Was she sick? His mind rebelled at the thought. It wasn’t possible, couldn’t be.

  “We’ll find someone to help you,” he reassured her. “There has to be an alien race close-by that can treat your disease.”

  She smiled sadly at him, but the smile didn’t reach her eyes. “I just want to spend what little time I have left with you.”

  She reached for him, and his arms wrapped around her. He wasn’t controlling the motions, but Karo didn’t care. He tucked her head under his chin and held her tightly.

  Was she going to die? Why would he hallucinate such wonderful things about this woman, and then take her away? What kind of sick person did that to himself?!

  “It’ll be alright. You’ll see.” His voice cracked at the end. He hoped she didn’t notice. Tears wet his shirt, but he wasn’t sure if they were coming from her or him. He just held her tightly, rocking slightly back and forth while his heart broke.

  *****

  Karo came awake suddenly. His heart raced, and there was an intense pressure and pain in his chest. He looked around in confusion, and it took him a moment to recognize that he was once again in the Medical Center.

  No! I need to know what happened to her! He thought frantically. Had she lived?

  He tried to bring her image back, but all he got was pain at his temples. He cried out, mostly at the intense pressure, and a little in desperation.

  If she dies, does that mean the hallucinations and dreams will stop? Will I be forced to watch her die?

  Voices neared him. Someone spoke directly at his side, he couldn’t tell who, then something was at his neck. A moment later the pain began to recede.

  “Go slowly,” Doctor Notani said. He felt her hands on his shoulders, and was comforted by the touch. “You’re alright now. Everything is fine.”

  He wasn’t the person they should be worried about. What had happened to the woman?

  “The pain… what’s happening to me?” Karo asked hoarsely. His voice felt rough and it hurt to talk.

  “I’m not sure. The treatment I gave you shouldn’t have caused you any kind of pain. I want to get you scanned as soon as possible.”

  Karo let the doctor and Deian help him from the bed and onto the Medical Unit’s platform. He laid back and closed his eyes in the hope of stopping the room from spinning.

  “Just breathe,” Deian instructed.

  Karo tried to relax. He tried to not picture the woman. Tried to not hear her words. “They can’t cure me.” Who were they?

  The Medical Unit ended its scan, and he knew that doctors now stood around the consoles trying to figure out what was wrong. He was more worried about the woman.

  He tried to sit upright, and thankfully Deian grabbed his arm and helped him. The room didn’t lurch.

  “How are you feeling?” Deian asked in a concerned tone.

  “Better now.” Karo’s voice still felt rough. “Do they know what’s wrong?”

  Notani came to his side. “I believe we do. We compared this scan to the one you had when you first arrived here.” She pulled up two images side-by-side on one of the consoles then enlarged the scan of his brain. The images were different. She
pointed to several areas that were alight with color.

  “These are the memory centers of your brain. You can see that there are several areas that weren’t active when we scanned you upon your arrival.”

  “What does that mean?” Deian asked.

  “When the regeneration chamber began to degrade, it damaged cells that allowed you to access certain memories, especially long-term ones. The treatment we developed is repairing that damage. I believe the onslaught of these memories is causing the pain you’re feeling.”

  “What about my hallucinations?”

  Notani’s eyebrows knit together with confusion. “What hallucinations?”

  All eyes went to him, and he suddenly felt uneasy for not telling them sooner.

  “I’ve been seeing visions of Siril and of a… woman.” Why did it feel so strange to tell anyone about her? “But if you’re right, then you’re saying that my visions are actually memories?”

  “If my theory is correct, then yes.”

  Karo’s heart sank. That was even worse. It meant that the woman had been real; he’d actually known her, and had lost her.

  “Try to think of this as a good thing,” Notani said trying to comfort him. “We can give you medicine to help with the pain, and soon you’ll have all of your memories back.”

  That was not comforting.

  “You don’t understand. The woman I’ve been seeing, she’s sick.”

  “It’s a long-term memory,” she explained. “It happened many, many years ago. You’ll probably continue to remember more and discover that she ended up just fine.”

  If that happens, I’ll have to lose her all over again, he thought. Even if she overcame her illness, it happened eight-thousand years ago… she was long gone. The thought made his chest constrict. Bile rose in his throat, and he forced it back down.

  It was bad enough that he had to live with himself knowing that his people, his culture, his society were gone. His parents were gone, his friends; he was barely able to cope. But now he had to relive very clear memories of a woman—a woman he’d clearly had deep feelings for—possibly even loved. It was too much.