Childhoods Lost (Sentinels Saga Book 2)

by Linn Schwab

  “More disturbing than blowing people to pieces?” Robin countered.

  He frowned and lowered his head in regret. “You make a good point. Perhaps I’ve just grown numb to certain things over time. But believe me, I really want to stop the killing. And I really think you should’ve left when you had the chance. If my people find out where this station is, they’ll definitely make it a priority target.”

  “Then you’d better hope they don’t find it. Because you’re stuck here just like the rest of us.”

  He shrugged. “More incentive for me to help end the war, I guess. Listen,” he said, changing the subject, “you said it was a ship that crashed into this station? Can you tell me anything about it? Do you think it might have been intentional?”

  “It was just a wreck,” Robin explained. “There’s a lot of them floating around in this area, you know. Two hundred years of war make for a lot of space junk.”

  A clicking noise came from the room’s alarm speaker, and Veronica’s voice shrieked in Robin’s ears. “Robin, can you hear me?” she asked.

  Robin looked around for the security camera, then raised her arms and waved them back and forth.

  “We found Major Richards on one of the cameras. It looks like she’s unconscious.”

  Robin held her arms out as if to ask “Where?”

  “She’s in the elevator in shaft number three, right around the corner from the infirmary. The platform is stopped on the same floor you’re on, but you’re gonna have to pull the doors open by hand.”

  Robin dashed out through the door and rushed along the corridor to the elevator shaft. She slipped her fingertips into the gap between the doors and tried her best to pry them open. Her first attempt resulted in failure. Her arms just weren’t strong enough to pull the doors apart. She tried repositioning her body to make use of the strength in her leg muscles. Again, the doors refused to part for her. In desperation, she threw everything that still remained of her strength into trying to pull just one of them aside. She grimaced in agony as she tugged at the panel. A pair of arms suddenly reached around her from behind.

  “PULL!” Dave urged her, prying at the edge of the door with his fingers. Together, they managed to create a little gap and release the suction that held the doors together. Both panels abruptly slid to the sides, causing Dave to lose his balance and fall to the floor.

  The motionless body of Major Richards lay on the floor just inside the doors. She was positioned on her back with her knees angled leftward, and her head leaning slightly in the opposite direction. Robin stepped over her, dropped to the floor, and carefully slid her hands underneath the major’s head. “She’s still breathing,” she said to Dave. “Do you think you can carry her to the infirmary?”

  “There’s a gurney back at the room,” he said. “I’ll go get it. Between the two of us, we should be able to lift her.” He hobbled away through the corridor, leaving Robin alone with Major Richards.

  As she cradled the senior officer’s head in her hands, Robin felt something that altered her perception of the major forever. She gazed down at Major Richards’ helpless body — always so graceful and elegant before — and saw her now in a completely different light. She’s just as fragile as any of us, she told herself. Even the fact that she’s a medic herself doesn’t make her immune from needing medical attention.

  * * * *

  Commander Ingman kept his eyes on the clock as he waited for a call from Admiral Sands. The minutes continued to slip steadily by as the Mona Lisa’s deadline approached.

  “Commander,” the radio operator informed him, “we just got a call from the Alabama. The gunships are starting to move forward now.”

  “Very well,” the commander said. “Signal the fighters it’s time to advance.” He looked out through the windows at the mass of fighters as they flew off together toward the asteroid field. The gunships moved off in a different direction, leaving the three carriers safely to the rear. This time, the admiral had left him behind, just in case things didn’t go as planned. The Sacramento and San Felipe had remained behind as well, since they were too badly damaged to be of much use. What a powerful fleet I’ve been left with, he thought, wondering what he could do if they came under attack. Three empty carriers and two beat–‌up light cruisers. We’re a virtual defensive juggernaut here.

  * * * *

  Major Richards awoke to a sea of bright light and two shadowy figures leaning overtop of her. As her eyes adjusted to the brightness, the figures morphed into Robin and Dave. “She’s walking up,” she heard Dave say. She felt his hand on the side of her face. “Major, are you okay?” Robin asked. Her voice seemed to ebb and flow, as if she was speaking through an ocean current. “I think she might have a concussion,” Dave said. “Are there any other medics on this station?”

  Concussion! she thought. So that’s what’s wrong with me! I need to try to stay focused. She glanced around herself to determine her location, and realized she was lying on a bed in the infirmary. “Robin,” she said, “top drawer beside the sink. Blue cap, clear liquid. Empty syringe.”

  “She wants an injection,” Robin said, running to the sink. She pulled the drawer open and looked through the vials. Only one of them seemed to fit the description. She grabbed the vial and a clean syringe, and dashed back over to the major’s side. “How much?” she asked, removing the cap.

  The major’s eyelids fluttered briefly. “Twenty,” she said, then immediately shook her head. “No, wait. Ten.”

  “Are you sure?” Dave asked in concern.

  “Ten,” she insisted, nodding her head.

  “Alright,” he said, “ten it is. You got this?” he said to Robin.

  She pursed her lips, then held the syringe out to him. “My hands are shaking,” she said.

  He took a deep breath and grasped the syringe. “So are mine, kiddo. Where do you want it?” he asked Major Richards. She pointed to her upper right arm. He pushed the needle into her arm and slowly pressed the plunger in. “There you go,” he said. “I sure hope I didn’t botch this up.”

  “You did fine,” she assured him. It suddenly occurred to her that he was standing, and that she was now the one lying in bed. “It seems that our positions have been reversed, Lieutenant. Are you taking care of me, now?”

  He smiled at her and reached for her hand. “Well, I guess it’s the least I can do, after all you’ve done for me. And besides, you seem to be the only one on this station who doesn’t want me dead right now.”

  “Perhaps I’m just better at concealing that sentiment.”

  He looked into her eyes and gently squeezed her hand. “You’re going to fight me to last, aren’t you?” he said. “As someone who’s trained in the art of healing, aren’t you supposed to be offering me some hope?”

  She suddenly remembered he was going to die, and tried to turn her eyes away from him. I can’t start crying now, she told herself. If I do, he might become suspicious.

  A technician stepped inside the room and pried the intercom plate off the wall. She replaced a tiny component inside, then reattached the panel and pressed a few buttons. “The intercom is working now,” she announced, then stepped out through the doorway and ran off down the corridor.

  The major looked at Robin in concern. “Alarms!” she said. “I remember hearing alarms! What happened? Is everything alright?”

  Robin shook her head. “A derelict ship crashed into Volaris. The station took a lot of damage. A lot of people are unaccounted for. I think there’s at least one person dead.”

  “Commander Eldridge?”

  “We’re not sure yet. A rescue team is trying to get to her right now.”

  * * * *

  Miranda sat against a wall in the control room, with the fire extinguisher resting close by her side. She stared off into space with a blank expression. An occasional tear made its way down her cheeks. Veronica remained seated at her console, following the progress of the search and rescue teams. A sudden blip appeared on her radar
screen. She turned to her instruments to see if she could identify it.

  “What is it?” Lindsey asked. “Do you think it’s one of ours?”

  Veronica nodded. “I think it’s the commander’s shuttle returning.”

  A voice came over the control room’s speakers. “Volaris, come in, please. This is shuttle pilot Cindy Mason.”

  “Volaris, here,” Veronica answered.

  “Volaris, is it safe for us to land? It looks like you’ve taken some heavy damage.”

  Veronica examined the airlock’s status. “Stand by, Cindy,” she said. “Let me cycle the airlock to confirm that it’s working.”

  “Roger that. Volaris, are you aware that you are currently way off station?”

  Lindsey checked the station’s coordinates. “Oh my god! She’s right, we’re drifting! The collision must’ve knocked us out of position.”

  “Oh, no,” Veronica said. “That must be why we lost contact with the Zephyr.”

  Lindsey frantically looked around at her controls. “How do we fire the positioning thrusters?”

  Veronica shook her head in despair. “We can’t. We’re not authorized to do that. Only a commander is allowed to ignite them.”

  * * * *

  The infirmary’s speaker let out a loud beep, and Veronica’s voice came over the intercom. “Robin, is Major Richards awake?”

  “She’s awake, but she has a concussion,” Robin answered.

  “We have a serious problem, Robin. The collision knocked us out of position. The station is drifting, and we can’t stabilize it. We need a commander’s key to fire the positioning thrusters.”

  Robin looked to Major Richards for guidance. “Is there anything we can do?” she asked.

  Major Richards started to reach for her key, but she quickly realized it wouldn’t work. She was only an acting commander. This action required an actual commander’s key. As she struggled to think of a solution, she remembered that Robin’s key was now completely free of restrictions. There was at least a possibility the system would accept it and allow her access to the station’s thrusters. Her eyes focused on Robin’s pocket, but there appeared to be no trace of her key.

  “Robin, where is your key?” she asked.

  “I had to send Virginia out in the Wallaby. I gave her my key so she could operate it.”

  The major seemed surprised to hear this, and gazed at Robin in quiet contemplation.

  Seconds later, Robin’s eyes shot open, indicating she may have thought of a solution. “Major,” she insisted, “where is Commander Jeffries’ key?”

  The major winced in an obvious display of remorse when she realized what Robin might be forced to endure. “It’s in her pocket,” she reluctantly replied. The look of horror on Robin’s face was almost enough to bring tears to her eyes.

  * * * *

  A blast of cold air rolled out of the storage room when Robin triggered the door mechanism. It was like nothing she’d ever experienced before. Her life in the tropical warmth of Valhalla had left her completely unprepared for this. Her skin seemed to tighten as she entered the room. Her breath formed clouds of fog in front of her. The floor felt slippery underneath her feet, and a sheen of frost clung to the ceiling and walls.

  At the center of the room lay three oblong boxes, lined up side by side across the top of a workbench. The first one bore the name of Commander Jeffries. The other two names she didn’t recognize, but from what she’d been told of recent events, she suspected they’d been members of Delia’s crew.

  Shuffling forward as she tried to keep her balance, she grabbed the edge of the workbench to steady herself. She searched for a way to open the commander’s coffin and found that the top had been fastened down with screws. Even if she managed to locate a screwdriver, removing the lid would cost her a substantial amount of time — all while the station continued to drift further away from its assigned coordinates. In the hope that there might be a quicker alternative, she moved around to one end of the container and found it to be fastened with a latch and hinges. She paused for a moment to consider her options. Opening the lid would allow her to reach in from above and simply grab the commander’s key from her pocket. Gaining access through the end would mean leaning inside and reaching her arm over the commander’s shoulder — a nightmarish possibility that filled her with a tremendous amount of dread. Uncertain what fate might befall the station if she delayed any longer than necessary, she gathered her resolve, unfastened the latch, and pulled the end of the container open.

  The box was mercifully dark inside. The top of the commander’s head was visible, but her face and body remained cloaked in shadow. Robin’s breaths were shallow and tight as she nervously leaned inside the opening. She felt the commander’s hair against her skin as she snaked her arm deeper inside the container. Her hand felt the softness of a uniform dress. The key was almost within her grasp. She stretched her arm forward and felt around for it, but her fingertips only grazed its uppermost edge. It was too deep for her to get a firm grip on unless she was willing to climb further inside.

  Shivering from the combination of cold and anxiety, she pushed off with her toes and lunged forward with her arms, pulling herself deeper into the darkness. She felt the commander’s hair against the side of her face, and for an instant, their ears brushed against each other. The brief sensation of skin to skin contact caused her to shudder and brought tears to her eyes. The icy cold of the commander’s body was just too much for her emotions to bear. Where once had been a comforting fountain of warmth, the antithesis of life now reigned absolute. “I miss you, Commander,” she whispered through a sob. She lingered for a moment to regain her strength and dwell on her memories of Commander Jeffries. She fondly recalled telling Jenny, “I hope I can be like her someday.” Jenny’s reply then surfaced in her memory and gave her the strength she needed to continue. “You’re quite a bit like her already.”

  Mustering the resolve to complete her task, she planted a kiss on the commander’s head, grasped the key between her fingers, then wriggled her way back out of the box and sealed her inside again forever.

  The ladders tortured Robin’s muscles. Each rung she ascended seemed like a major accomplishment. Only when she passed between the doors of the control room was she actually convinced she would make it that far. She headed straight for Veronica, handed her the key and sat down at her side.

  “I hope this works,” Veronica said, sliding the key through a validation slot. She set the key down on top of her console and entered a series of ignition commands. A brief countdown appeared on her monitor. When the count reached zero, the thrusters ignited. She looked at Robin and smiled in relief. “It worked,” she said. “And it looks like all of them are functioning properly.”

  Robin kept her eyes on the station’s coordinates. The numbers were still changing alarmingly fast. “Nothing’s happening,” she said. “Why aren’t we slowing down?”

  “Don’t worry,” Veronica assured her, “it’s working. With something the size of Volaris, it takes a lot of thrust to make any noticeable difference. A lot of thrust, and a lot of time. I don’t even think we have enough propellant to get us back to our assigned coordinates. Our first concern right now is just to stop drifting further away.”

  “How far out of position are we?”

  “It looks like we’re about seven kilometers off station, which still puts us well within our operating zone. We’ll need to get back to our position eventually, but with everything else that’s happening right now, I’d say that’s probably the least of our worries.”

  HUNTERS 068

  The Mona Lisa emerged in a recessed clearing along the outer edge of the wreckage field. Right away, Captain Hoile could see its potential. “Stop here!” he ordered. “Bring the bow around ten degrees to starboard. We’ll complete the scan from here, where we still have some cover.”

  The ship slowed to a stop and swung to the right. Captain Hoile slapped his scanner operator on the shoulders. “Fire up
the scanner, Lieutenant,” he said. “Let’s see if we can find us a nice juicy target.”

  * * * *

  As the Wallaby closed in on the edge of the wreckage field, Ariel recognized a potential problem. “How are we gonna find them, Virginia?” she asked. “There’s so much junk out in front of us, they could be hiding anywhere.”

  Virginia glanced at the scanner and realized she was right. A single ship might be difficult to detect among the wreckage. “Let’s see if we can startle them,” she said. “If they panic, we might be able to spot them. Ready on torpedoes,” she prompted, setting her sights on the tail of a wrecked light cruiser. She aimed the Wallaby straight at her target, then braced herself and yelled, “FIRE ONE!”

  Ariel quivered as she pulled on the trigger, having no idea what to expect. A sudden loud noise echoed through the bridge and the kick from a pressurized launch shook the hull.

  Virginia reduced the Wallaby’s velocity and focused her eyes on the edge of the field. The torpedo flew forward, straight and true, and detonated just as it struck the cruiser’s hull.

  * * * *

  A flash of light caught Captain Hoile’s attention. His eyes shifted toward the port side of his ship. Through the windows, he saw a cloud of smoke and debris less than a kilometer away from his ship.

  “What was that?” he insisted, scanning the area for the source of the explosion.

  Derrick pointed through the windows and yelled, “Enemy destroyer at ten o’clock, Sir!”

  J Mac leapt to his feet and stared at the enemy ship in terror. “Oh, crap! They’re looking right at us!” he exclaimed.

  Captain Hoile quickly considered his options and decided he needed to make a run for it. “Bring us about and get us up to speed!” he ordered. “Take us back out the same way we came in!”

  The Mona Lisa began to pivot to her right. Vibrations from her engines rattled the bridge. “Unlock the guns!” the captain ordered. “We’re gonna have to fight our way out of this one.”