by PJ Strebor
Nathan was too stunned to speak.
“My friends call me Gabby,” she added.
Nathan recalled the picture of his father beside his fighter, the black helmet under his arm. Monitor Corps. Of course, that’s why I didn’t fire.
Taking the offered hand he said, “Nathan Telford, of the Bellinda.” Nathan glanced at the broken freighter.
Gabby stood and brushed grass and dirt from her suit. She noticed his interest and turned slowly around. “I’m wearing a v-suit to protect me from infection.”
“From the plague,” Nathan confirmed.
Nathan’s head tracked to the nearby funeral mound.
Gabby frowned.
Live as one or die as one.
“How old are you?”
Nathan squinted in concentration. “Thirteen … and a half. By the Athenian Standard Calendar.”
“You’ve survived on a plague planet for two years?” Her astonished tone said much. “On your own? How did you do that?”
He shrugged and stepped toward the viper. After pulling the arrow from its head he cleaned it in the sandy soil before slipping it into his quiver. Gabby kept her distance from the dead reptile.
“Southern Delosian Horned Viper,” he announced. His smile fled. “Before the plague, they killed three of my family.” They were the lucky ones.
“But through it all you survived. That’s amazing.”
Yeah, me and Prep. A winning combination.
“Will you tell me what happened, Nathan?”
Nathan winced then cleared his throat. He needed to tell someone. He brushed over some points. Iberia. Four years of slavery. Escape. "We spent two weeks changing course to avoid the Pruessen patrols before transiting into Athenian space. But the ship had been badly damaged, the boat bay destroyed, sensors and navigation damaged, many dead and injured. Our food supply ran out days before and the water reclaimator couldn’t keep up with our demands.
"As we entered the Delosian system we sent out urgent distress calls on our jury-rigged short wave bands, but received no replies. The hyper generator had blown during system transition. We didn’t have the parts to repair it so we weren't going anywhere. We could remain aboard and starve to death or attempt a landing." Nathan’s throat constricted with the recollection. He swallowed deeply and took a shuddering breath.
“My father said Rebecca, she was my older sister, was the best natural pilot he’d ever seen – she got us down in one piece. Most of us survived the landing and we settled in. Everything went well for a while. We had been out of touch for four years. We didn’t know Delos had been contaminated by the plague. Forty-two days after surviving the landing my family started getting sick." Nathan cleared his husky throat and blinked rapidly. “My family all died … but I didn’t. Don’t know why they died and I didn’t.” A knot formed in his stomach at the memory.
He saw tears in Gabby’s eyes. She reached toward him but he instinctively drew away from her.
“I don’t like to be touched.”
“All right, Nathan. Sorry.”
Nathan brushed sweaty hair from his brow.
“What’s that?” Gabby pointed to the bump at the corner of his right eyebrow.
Nathan smiled grimly. “Pruessen’s don’t care to be looked at. Our doctor had been removed from the ship so the broken bone never mended properly.”
“I see.”
No you don’t.
“Well Nathan, when I get you back to Impudent I’ll have the doc take care of that for you.”
He glared at her.
Her eyebrows arched and she quickly added, “Or not.”
“I need it to remind me.”
“Remind you of what?”
“My family obligation.”
“I see,” she said again.
Nathan felt his temper rise. No you don’t, Gabby. No you don’t. You grow up fast when you’re a slave. Suffer through subservience to the Pruessen Empire then, then, you’ll understand.
“Nathan, before something else tries to kill us, how about we get out of here? I can have you aboard Impudent within the hour.”
He nodded. While Gabby walked away to check in with her boat, Nathan stood before the funeral mound. His heart raced.
“I am leaving you now, my family,” he whispered. “I will join Monitor Corps. One day I will return to you – after I have killed every last Pruessen.”
CHAPTER 8
Time: 27th May, 311 (ASC)
Position: Orbiting the ANS Bio-Deterrent Research facility. Planetoid Mylor. Arcadian System. Northern Quadrant.
Status: Monitor Impudent, awaiting transfer of personnel to BDR facility
Nathan's first experience with his painful intuitive gift came to him at the beginning of his third month on the planet Delos. He had been alone for three weeks and he carried within his heart a dark, hollow place filled with pain. The loss of his family had nearly crushed his spirit but he determined that he could be of little use to their memory if he died. So he went through the motions necessary to survive and in a short time became quiet proficient with the bow that his father had fashioned for him. The Pulsar rifle would undoubtedly be a more effective weapon than his bow, but his unfamiliarity with the weighty firearm had encouraged him to stick with what he knew the best.
As part of his survival regime he hunted for food every day. On one occasion, as he strolled along a worn animal track enjoying the mild spring weather, he wandered into unfamiliar territory. The jungle fell away in an instant, the lush vegetation giving way to an open area of startlingly barren landscape. The winter rains cascaded down from the mountains into this basin area, washing away all traces of the jungle before it. The kaleidoscope of multicolored vegetation vanished before the orange-walled arroyo as though a new world had magically appeared within the one he knew.
He walked on, fascinated by the layered, rainbow effect that stared back at him from the steep walls. As he ventured deeper into the gully, the initial feeling of trepidation increased. He put the feeling down to the unexpected nature of his new environment, until the spot on his upper spine, directly between his shoulder blades, began to ache. It started with a twinge, like a mild electric jab, but as he continued into the arroyo it began to burn with ever-increasing intensity. He ignored it, putting the feeling down to a probable pinched nerve. However, along with the pain between his shoulder blades came a feeling of extreme uneasiness that permeated the rest of his senses. He found the combination of the two elements difficult to ignore. He tensed, surveyed the area and drew an arrow onto his bowstring. He could see no discernible danger yet the feeling of impending doom felt so palpable that he began backing out of the gully, watchful to any change around him.
At the lip of the arroyo he stood and surveyed the area with a critical eye. The gully seemed quiet and peaceful, nothing moved and no sign of danger reared its head. The restless turmoil had vanished from his mind and his backache had disappeared.
"Nitwit," he mumbled to himself and turned to leave.
The air suddenly split by the sound of a great crack like the splintering of a mighty tree. Nathan spun around in time to see the east face of the gully collapse and tumble in a great avalanche of fractured earth and stone onto the floor of the arroyo. Time and natural forces of weather and erosion had undermined the wall, and its time had finally come.
He stood transfixed to the sight of destruction for several minutes before returning to the ship. It took days for him to come to terms with the phenomenon and to appreciate that he owed his life to the gift. In the next two years the same premonition pain (Prep, as he came to call the bizarre phenomenon) had been responsible for saving his life on more than one occasion. Delos had proved time and again to be an extremely unforgiving place and he had little doubt that without Prep he may not have survived his time there.
Although he had no idea how the Prep manifested itself, he determined that he would never again question his odd premonit
ions of danger. It remained as the greatest mystery of his young life. However, having been treated as a freak by people because of his intelligence, he knew enough not to share knowledge of the Prep with anyone else. Fate had granted him a second chance at life and above all else, he determined not to play the part of outsider again.
The Prep had proved to be a friend and ally, but was, like an embarrassing malady, one he resolved to keep to himself.
***
Nathan gazed at the planetoid Mylor that swam in the center of his screen.
Since arriving in orbit, the screaming pain in his back warned him that danger lurked within that dark, foreboding place.
According to his brief research, Mylor orbited the system as close to the system aphelion as anybody could be, without actually leaving the system all together. He began to long for the warm, opened-skied world that he had so recently escaped from.
Nathan looked away from the planetoid but the feeling of impending doom remained as strong as ever. He felt powerless to do anything about his situation. A small part of him regretted his natural curiosity that had impelled him to investigate the tiny world that would soon become his new prison. Not for the first time since coming aboard Impudent had his inquisitive nature led him into trouble.
Ten days ago, thirty-three days into their journey, he managed to tweak the computer into giving him access to the outside scanners. Nathan had a vague suspicion that he should not be overriding the security lock outs, but could not help himself. What possible harm could it do? He waited until Gabby had put her head down for a nap before commencing his task. His first indication that his indiscretion had been discovered came with a rumble.
"Ensign Gabreski, wake up," Captain Bradman bellowed.
Gabby sprung from her rack as though hit with a bucket of icy water. Nathan turned off the feed and jumped out of his chair. The captain stood on the other side of the transparent observation panel, his furious expression threatening to melt the four-centimeter-thick composite window.
"Yes, captain," Gabby said, blinking away the sleep from her eyes.
"What's going on?"
"Sir?" Poor Gabby looked totally flummoxed.
Bradman glanced lazily at Nathan before returning his attention to Gabby. "You are supposed to be supervising the boy, ensign." Gabby glanced down at Nathan for a moment then her shoulders slumped.
"Sorry sir," she said. "What has he done now?"
"Your young charge has tied into the external scanners," he rumbled. "Did you tell him he could do that?"
"No sir."
"Why did you show him how to tie into the scanners, ensign?"
"I didn't, sir."
He turned his glaring attention back to Nathan who made the mistake of thinking that the same boyish smile that charmed the rest of the crew would work on the captain. Bradman's mouth tightened, his glare intensifying until Nathan's face fell.
"Are you telling me, ensign, that this boy got past our security lock outs by himself?"
Gabby looked as though she might be sick at any moment.
"Gabby didn't know about it, captain," Nathan said. "I just wanted to observe the transition back from hyperspace. I didn't think it would do any harm." He swallowed deeply but to his credit maintained eye contact with Bradman. Gabby winced with each word as though nails were being driven into her toes.
"Ensign Gabreski, I would be obliged if you would keep a closer eye on the boy in future."
"Aye, skipper," she said, straightening her stance as well as she could within the tight confines.
"And as for you young Mister Telford, from here on, if you wish to engage in extracurricular activities whilst aboard my boat, you will ask permission. No more hacking into our systems. Is that clear?"
Nathan snapped to attention. "Aye-aye, skipper."
Just for a moment the hard line of the captain's mouth softened. He nodded once to Nathan, gave Gabby a curious look, then turned to leave.
"Captain Bradman?"
"Yes?"
"Sir, I request permission to observe the next transition."
This time the captain's granite features began to melt in what appeared to be a most uncustomary way. His mouth warped as he struggled to suppress a smile. He glanced at Gabby, his head shaking slowly. Kneeling down brought him eye to eye with Nathan.
"Do you give me your pledge that you will keep out of restricted areas of the boat's data base?"
"Aye, skipper," he said. "Unless I receive permission."
"Very well. I give you permission to observe the transition." Bradman left the observation room with haste.
Nathan got to observe the boat's transition from normal space to hyperspace. He felt light and awed by the experience and not surprisingly attacked the boat's library in search of everything he could find on the subject.
Having given the captain his word, he patiently observed the rules. His acceptance of the situation prompted the skipper to grant him unrestricted access to the outside scanners.
He removed the ugly picture of Mylor from the screen and tied into the stern scanners. Tsunami maintained her close vigil, dead astern. Would one Monitor Corps boat really fire on another? Because of him?
What of Mylor? If his aching back could be believed, and it could, Nathan dreaded his forthcoming transfer to that dark rock.
CHAPTER 9
Time: 28th November, 311 (ASC).
Position: ANS Bio-Deterrent Research facility. Planetoid Mylor. Arcadian System. Status: Research ongoing.
Within the confines of the large, well-appointed office, Lt Cmdr Spotiswood sat across from the professor, his hands clenched firmly in his lap.
"You have seen the test results?" Professor Knightsbridge asked.
He nodded sharply.
"Can you explain results like that? We have given him every test in the book, then made up some to see where it would lead and we are still in the dark."
"Very well, I will ask again," Spotiswood said. "Is he a product of genetic engineering?"
Did the Pruessen's experiment on him during his years of enslavement?
"I do not know,” the professor said, showing his impatience. “If he is the result of GE then it is at a level of sophistication well beyond our ability to understand. What I have been able to establish, however, is that there is a dormant strain in his genetic structure. It could remain dormant forever or prove to have no useful application. Or it could become active, today, tomorrow, next week, next year. There is no way of knowing."
"So, what do you propose to do?"
"Do?” the professor said. "We keep him here and do more tests and more tests until we figure out what makes him tick."
Spotiswood folded his hands in front of him and stared at the professor. “Or Kill him.” A raised hand was all it took to stop Knightsbridge’s reply. “You’ve done every test you can think of and you have nothing.”
“I resent —”
“I haven’t finished, Professor. Do you think I don’t know what goes on in this facility? Why did you cut off his heating and serve only cold food?” Knightsbridge shifted in his chair. “Well?”
"He refused to cooperate with us," he finally said with a shrug. "Some discipline was required. He was interfering with the work."
Spotiswood sat back in his chair and stared at the Professor, who refused to meet his eyes.
“I am relieving you of all responsibilities regarding this project, forthwith."
"You cannot do that. He is unique. He could be —"
"He could be dead if I leave him in your hands for much longer. And Professor," Spotiswood said coldly, "don't ever tell me what I can and cannot do. The boy is an asset of the ANSIO Special Projects Division. We only let you borrow him to find out about the plague, which you have failed to do.”
"Very well, Commander Spotiswood,” he said stiffly, “let it be on your head then." He stood, turned on his heel and marched from the room.
Spot
iswood let the tension out in a sigh. He’d come so close to lashing out. As an absolute certainty he would never allow Knightsbridge anywhere near the boy again. He shook his head, thinking of what the lad had been through.
Nathan had stopped answering their questions three months ago, in protest against his treatment. The professor had retaliated against him as he would against a new strain of infection. Still the lad refused to buckle under to the abuse and increased his active resistance to every attempt to test him. He fought his one-sided war with no chance of relief, within an environment not of his choosing, against odds he had no chance of winning against. It had cost the young fellow dearly, but although he had not won the battle he had not lost the war either. He has guts, that’s for sure.
Spotiswood slapped both hands against his knees, stood and strode from the office, walking briskly to the containment area.
As he stepped into the room the chill struck at him. The boy lay on the bunk like a mannequin with the stuffing knocked out of it. His forearm lay across his eyes and under the light blanket his chest barely moved.
Spotiswood grabbed a nearby chair and sat beside the single bunk. The boy did not move except for a single shiver.
His difficult time on Mylor had drastically changed the robust, brown-skinned youngster he had last seen four months ago. He looked terrible. Pale and sickly, he had lost considerable weight.
"Nathan, sit up please," Spotiswood said. "I need to speak with you."
***
After what felt like a lifetime, the man returned. He wore the uniform of an Athenian Naval Service Intelligence Organization officer, and carried the rank of lieutenant commander. Nathan had not seen him in such a long time, but remembered the eyes, sharp and dark like a Delosian hawk.
"Nathan, sit up please. I need to speak to you."
Nathan pushed himself up by sliding his back along the wall beside his bunk. The commander's eyes were a little less hawk-like than he remembered. He struggled to keep his eyes open.