Wrath of the Carnelians (Europa)

by Jason Gehlert

  Logan’s fingers were a bit sweaty and he had let the cue ball go to fast and overshot his intended pocket, sending the eight-ball careening in the side pocket off a nasty bounce.

  “And there ya have it.” Sammy walked over and slapped Logan on the shoulder. “I didn’t even have to break a sweat.”

  “Oh, please.” Logan became irritable. “I had the shot.”

  “This reminds me of the historic 2007 Super Bowl, Pats and Giants.” Sammy remembered the epic game.

  “Enlighten me.”

  “The Pats ripped off eighteen straight wins and lost the Super Bowl.”

  “And?” Logan wasn’t making the analogy.

  “You ripped off all those shots and choked on the prize.” Sammy grinned, making his point.

  “I had a great teacher. My great-grandfather taught me to play.”

  “We all suffer defeat. It’s all part of life’s brutal cycle.”

  “Whatever.”

  “Want another beer?” Sammy admired Logan’s impetuous finishing of his drink.

  “Yeah, fire me up.” Logan raised his glass.

  “Oh, bartender!” Sammy called again urging Donny to make the trip a successful one with another loaded glass of beer.

  Wilkes had finally gotten the Johnny Cash concert DVD to start playing and immediately scoured the chapter selection screen for his favorite song. His lips moved along to the music, resulting in the Lieutenant’s odd, husky voice mimicking the historic lyrics. ‘I hear the train a-coming, its rolling around the bend, and I ain’t seen the sunshine since I don’t know when.’ Wilkes definitely enjoyed Cash’s most popular song.

  Tommy meanwhile, had completely become infested with the arcade disease and had already raced to the highest level on Pole Position.

  Sammy and Logan prepared for another round of pool, even bringing Donny into the fold, orchestrating a threesome of billiards.

  The entire crew enjoyed their ruckus last stand before enduring their four-year stasis. Buried deep within the darkened walls of the garbage cargo hold, Kennison regained his lost bearings.

  His vision blurred, he felt around for proper footing, occasionally slipping on decayed banana peels, rotting oranges, or some residual sticky jelly spewing from their ripped containers.

  Kennison’s situation was a unique one at best. The future of recycled garbage at its finest. No more plastic bags lying around waiting to degenerate. Instead, the garbage was dumped loosely inside the vast steel drum and either compressed for compost, or pushed down the drum and into the burning furnace. The residual matter enjoyed a new life as engine fuel for the ship, giving Athena a continual supply of energy for her lengthy trip.

  The Athena stayed her course and steadfastly adhered to Europa’s coordinates.

  The room was cold and snow white in color. His eyes groggy from the medicinal dosage, his body screamed for control. The medium-sized metal bed did not accompany his awkward body for maximum comfort. He could feel movement below his right kneecap. Hell, he could feel a few toes wiggling about. How was this possible? “Hello? Anyone there?” His mouth echoed those words throughout the desolate room. “Hello?” Again his words fell on the eerie deafness of the room’s confines.

  His arms were stuck with various IV tubes, his legs were still strapped down taut on the bed. His fingers were slow in regaining feeling from the medicine. Alert and now fully awake, he worked the belts off of his legs. Taking in a full breath, he gently rose on the bed, pulling out the IV tubes and turning to face the exit door. The room basked in silver hue with rows of white energy saving lights running across the ceiling. Series of locked medicine cabinets encircled around the room, filled with bottles and bottles of medicinal supplies, gauze and slim silver thermometers.

  “Where am I?” His staggering mind couldn’t trace any progress up to this particular juncture.

  He carefully placed his legs down on the cold floor, using the bed for support. He quickly peered around the room one more time and noticed his dirtied, well-worn orange baseball cap on the far counter.

  “That wasn’t so bad,” he muttered. He felt better about his situation until his weary left leg buckled and sent him sprawling to the floor.

  “Another game?” Logan raised his glass to boast his seamless victory.

  “I’ve lost the last two, and before that I lost to Donny over there. Nah, I’ll pass. Well, would you look at that?” Sammy pretended to look at his watch. “It’s time for stasis. Otherwise, we will never survive the trip.” Sammy walked over to the bar and placed the glass on the counter.

  “Lieutenant, are you ready?” Logan asked him.

  “Yeah, I’ve had my fill of Johnny for tonight,” Wilkes said, turning off the DVD before being sidetracked by his glass of beer. “We’re all going to sleep well tonight.”

  “Yeah, and for the next four years,” Logan said while he too finished off the last lick of beer in his own glass.

  Tommy and Donny wrapped up their respective games and met the Lieutenant and Sammy in the center of the game room with Logan.

  A pair of fingers wrapped around the corner of the doorway.

  The group chattered about not fully aware of their guest.

  “Ahem,” the voice interrupted the idle conversation.

  “Well, look who decided to crash our party,” Wilkes addressed their guest.

  “I feel like a train ran over my entire body,” the man analyzed his own curious condition. “But, ironically, I’ve never felt better.”

  “I’m glad to see you are well,” Logan replied while he tilted his head looking over the man’s entire body. “So, tell me, how do you like your new pair of leg’s Doctor Drake?”

  Kennison still trapped within the endless garbage pit, unraveled at the seams. “Once I get out of here, I’m going to kill that faggy bitch.” He kicked away a half-eaten apple, sending the corrosive fruit spiraling and disappearing somewhere inside the weird darkness. His fingers rubbed over his face trying to erase the beads of sweat flowing over his smudged skin. “Tommy!” His voice screamed in furor over the pilot’s act of brutality. “My fucking nose still hurts,” he muttered while attempting to check for any residual blood in the nostrils. “And it’s fucking broken too.” Kennison continued along his way, trying to find away out of his mess.

  Parallels

  Nolan Drake stood silent in the doorway, with a warped smile on his face.

  “Now, don’t thank me all at once,” Logan gestured the good scientist to take his time with the deserving accolades.

  “I’ve squirmed and crawled my way down here,” Drake said. “You would think having my legs, or someone else’s attached to my body would be cause for joy.”

  “I would think so,” Wilkes chimed in.

  “Excuse me?” Drake abruptly retorted.

  “The President of The United States, Jackson Forsythe’s final act of judgment was to incur that you, the heroic Nolan Drake be the recipient of the Swarm.” Wilkes raised his empty glass. He then looked around for Donny. “I need to refuel of my engines please,” he ordered him to fetch another round.

  “What is that? A new disease?” Drake quipped back.

  “It’s the military’s technological breakthrough in medicine.” Logan walked over to Drake. “Do you need anything?”

  “Yeah, a pool stick please,” Drake replied.

  “Um, okay.” Logan walked back across the room to retrieve Drake what he wanted. “Any preferences?”

  “Yeah, the red marbled one over there in the corner.” Drake pointed out. “So, what does this thing do?”

  “It regenerates your body through Nanotechnology,” Logan called out from across the room. “This one here?” He motioned to the marbled stick.

  “One more over,” Drake responded leaning against the wall for support. “How so?”

  “It rebuilds the damaged cells and constructs either new organs or limbs.” Logan snapped up the stick and walked it over to Drake.

  “Thanks,” he answered t
aking the stick from the youngster’s grasp. Drake leaned on the stick and walked in the room with renewed vigor. “So, you, uh, I mean the President decided to use this newfound medicinal marvel on my body.” Drake took in the information.

  “Pretty much so.” Wilkes polished off his glass and headed over to the scientist.

  “All for what?”

  “Why your words of wisdom helped save a lot of lives in the short-term process,” Wilkes recounted the Yellowstone tragedy.

  “Yeah, a lot of good that did. I wound up with no legs, and thousands if not millions by this juncture are dead from the initial impact.”

  “Think of how many people enjoyed another day because of you.” Wilkes walked around Drake. “Hey, how tall were you before?”

  “I don’t know. A miracle under five feet ten inches,” Drake countered. “Why?”

  “I’m just about six feet. And, by the looks of things my dear friend,” Wilkes analyzed Drake’s frame. “You look to have enjoyed a growth spurt.”

  “Yeah, he does look a smidgen taller than you Lieutenant.” Logan observed Drake’s tall frame.

  “Well, now I can join the NBA,” he paused “Oh yeah, if there was one,” Drake grumbled at the crew.

  “Why so glum?” Wilkes countered. “You’re on your way to Europa.”

  “Lucky me.” Drake played with the brim of his Denver Broncos cap.

  “You were handpicked by the President for this procedure.” Wilkes worked his way to Drake. “I suggest you don’t disappoint our late President,” Wilkes sternly addressed Drake’s sense of decency, before brushing past the scientist and vanishing to the corridor.

  “Don’t mind him,” Sammy said. “I’m glad you are here.” He too then worked his way past Drake and towards the corridor.

  “We’ll see you in about four years,” Tommy and Donny both bid their farewells to the scientist.

  “Yeah, four years,” Drake talked under his breath.

  “I performed the procedure, any after effects?” Logan asked.

  “I’m awake.”

  “Bitter response for someone who is a hero.”

  “Hero? Where? Out here in space?” Drake quizzed the young doctor.

  Logan couldn’t respond in time.

  Drake offered another wise response. “I want whatever medicine you’re taking.”

  “Let’s get prepared for the long journey,” Logan walked with Drake out of the room.

  Nolan Drake hobbled a bit down the corridor using his makeshift cane to sustain balance.

  “You know, I do have real canes and walkers back in the medic bay,” Logan said. “Are you sure you want to use a cue stick to walk with?”

  “It adds to the drama.”

  “Right. I’m sure it does,” Logan replied with a slight cock of his head in agreement.

  “What happens when we arrive on Europa?”

  “A big party.” Logan grinned.

  “You have only a face a mother could love,” Drake retorted.

  “Full of wisdom I see.”

  “Well you know, I came here with no legs, and now I can walk. It’s a bit overwhelming.”

  “I understand. Have you ever thought of the fact that your work could be unfinished?”

  “My work?” Drake asked. “My work was studying volcanoes back on Earth, and well I missed the fucking boat on that one.”

  “Yellowstone wasn’t your fault.”

  “The hell it wasn’t. I had all the data. I tried to tell the President and Congress to act promptly.”

  “So then, you did your job.”

  “Not in my eyes. I should’ve been more persistent.” Drake’s remorseful demons were attacking his argument. “And then the kicker, the California coast gets spanked by the Cascade Eruptions.”

  “In any regard, I believe in second chances,” Logan answered back.

  “Second chances?” Drake withdrew his makeshift cane from position and tapped it against Logan’s chest. “Thousands of people are dead because of me. Do they get a second chance? Do they get a brand spanking new pair of legs as a parting gift?”

  “I think you are taking this argument to new levels.” Logan gently brushed the cue stick aside. “You have been through a lot Dr. Drake. Once we are in the stasis, you should cool off a bit.”

  Drake simply shrugged off Logan’s rebuttal.

  Logan continued with the conversation. “Yeah, I believe in second chances. I honestly credit the President’s decision of ordering your new operation to the fact that there’s another mission of importance for you to partake on.”

  “Out here in space?” Drake gripped the stick once more. “I won’t hesitate to knock some sense into that swelled head of yours.”

  “Wherever.” Logan kept up his breakneck pace of conversation. “Perhaps here on the ship, or maybe on Europa.”

  “I definitely want whatever the hell it is you’re on.”

  “I’m not on anything.” Logan issued an awkward stare in Drake’s direction

  “I’m not your father, if you’re taking some happy pills, I’m cool with that.” Drake’s eyes widened. “All I ask is that you share with the rest of the class.”

  “How’s your new pair of legs?” Logan changed the subject.

  “They ache.”

  “How so?”

  “Not as bad as the pain in my ass,” Drake’s retort came with a slick look at Logan.

  “Oh, very funny.”

  “I thought it was.”

  “The stasis chamber’s right down the corridor on the right.” Logan motioned to the end of the corridor.

  “And where are you headed?”

  “I have some business to attend to?” Logan broke away from the scientist and headed back to the medical bay.

  “What a quirky duck,” Drake’s noticeable gimp continued to hamper his movement.

  Logan entered the room and headed for the medicine cabinet. His fingers moved across each pane of glass destined to retrieve what he was looking for. “Where are you hiding?” His words seemingly searched for the answer to his question. And then the young doctor found what he was looking for. Carefully unlatching the golden handle, Logan reached inside the fully stocked cabinet and cupped several bottles of Codeine. His fingers popped off one of the white caps, and palmed several pills before cramming the bottles in the lab coat’s front pocket. Logan pushed down the pills swallowing them dry before he rejoined the rest of the crew in the stasis room.

  Nolan Drake eventually reached the stasis room, moments before being partnered again by Logan.

  “Did you have a nice trip?” Drake asked Logan.

  “I had to make sure everything was locked and bolted for the trip.”

  “Right,” Drake slowly drew out his response.

  “What you don’t believe me?” Logan’s tone became edgier.

  “All addicts come up with a likeable story,” Drake issued the warning.

  “Addict?” Logan seemed surprised at Drake’s accusation.

  “Yeah, an addict. You’re an addict, my friend,” Drake surmised Logan’s situation.

  “I am not.” Logan definitely countered the argument.

  “How did it happen?” Drake asked.

  “How did what happen?” Logan rephrased the question.

  “Listen,” Drake responded, leaning in closer. “I certainly do not want to bond with the rest of the group. I like you, you are young and have plenty of promise.”

  “Why thank you, I think,” Logan was a bit confused at Drake’s analysis.

  “Okay, I’ll rephrase it for you.” Drake shifted, finding better footing.

  “Okay,” Logan answered back.

  “The Lieutenant loves the bottle a bit too much. And, isn’t too much of a leader in my eyes. Not like Commander Gordon was. The other two, Sammy and Donny?”

  “Yeah that’s them.”

  “Well, moving on.” Drake made his point at their immaturity.

  “Uh, yeah okay,” Logan’s response was again wrapped u
p with some confusion.

  “That leaves the fly boy pilot and you.”

  “Tommy? What’s the matter with Tommy?”

  “He has certain qualities that I have problems with.”

  “You mean he’s gay,” Logan found the right words for the stumbling scientist.

  “Whatever you want to call it. He’s definitely not bonding with me.”

  “You’re a card-carrying member of homophobia?” Logan seemed surprised.

  “I’m old school. Guys with girls. Period.”

  “What about girls and girls?”

  “That’s okay. Especially in the movies.”

  “Doesn’t that make you a hypocrite?” Logan countered.

  “Listen, we are not here to analyze my flaws, and Lord knows I have a lot of them.”

  “Anyway, what’s your point? Besides the accusation of my addiction?”

  “You are the only one that shows promise.”

  “Tommy did pummel up Kennison.”

  “Oh yeah, I forgot about that, since I was in a medically induced coma,” Drake’s bitter response became evident of his growing impatience.

  “Well, he did.”

  “And, where’s this Kennison now?”

  “Down in the trash compactor.”

  “Oh, so don’t you think he should be here with the rest of us?”

  “Don’t worry about me Doc,” the voice severed their conversation.

  Logan turned to face Kennison walking up behind.

  Kennison smeared his filthy fingers down Logan’s shoulder’s, leaving a grey smudge of stink behind.

  “And you thought you could keep me trapped down there with the other garbage.” Kennison searched the room for Tommy.

  “It was a plan,” Logan countered while he distastefully wiped off the sludge.

  “A bad one at that.” Kennison looked over at Nolan Drake. “And you are?”

  “Someone you don’t want to fuck with Junior,” Drake snapped back. His fingers wrapped around the cue stick.

  “We’ll chat later,” Kennison’s disrespect for Drake {or anyone else for that matter} was evident.

  Logan and Drake followed Kennison to the chamber.

  “We’ll chat later,” Drake whispered to Logan.

  “Yeah, okay.”

  “Tommy!” Kennison verbally searched out the pilot.