by Linn Schwab
Reluctantly, Robin got to her feet and followed the rest of her crew to the airlock. Major Richards was waiting for them on the spur, standing ready to provide medical attention if necessary.
“Are you girls alright?” the major asked.
“I think so,” Robin said. “We’re just really tired.” She heard a door open at one end of the spur, and saw Commander Eldridge hurrying toward her with an urgency she’d never observed before.
She’s angry, Robin thought. I’m gonna get yelled at. But the commander’s pace slowed when she realized the girls were all fine, and just for an instant Robin thought she saw concern in her expression.
“Captain Starling,” Commander Eldridge said, “I’m pleased to see that your crew has returned unharmed. We were all beginning to fear the worst.”
Though the commander rarely let her emotions slip, her eyes betrayed a deep sense of relief now. It was so unlike her that it left Robin puzzled at first. But then she realized what was likely hanging over the woman. She’s the one who sent us out there. She feels responsible for what happened to us. It was a glimpse inside the commander’s inner workings. And it gave Robin a new perspective on her.
“I regret to report,” Robin said, standing at attention, “that my ship has suffered significant damage.” It was her way of preserving the commander’s air of discipline in front of Major Richards and the rest of her crew.
“Yes … well,” the commander said after clearing her throat, “since I’m planning to leave Volaris soon, I’ll leave that for you and Commander Carillo to discuss. For right now I just need you to fill me in on any enemy forces you might have encountered, or Sentinel forces that might be in need of assistance.”
After guiding her fighter into the airlock, Virginia shut both of her engines down before the outer door was fully closed. When the inner door opened, she climbed down from her cockpit and informed a technician she needed a tow.
“Right away,” Brandi said, climbing into a forklift. “Is there a problem with your engines?”
“No, but I think I have a fuel leak. I didn’t want to risk an explosion in the airlock.”
Brandi moved her forklift closer to the airlock and fastened a chain to Virginia’s landing gear. Once the fighter was parked in a safe position, Virginia walked underneath it to inspect the damage.
“How long do you think it’ll take to repair it?”
“At least two days, possibly three,” Brandi said. “This gash in the outer skin is easy. But if you were leaking fuel, we’re gonna have to dig a little deeper and see if the delivery system was damaged.”
As the two of them were speaking, the airlock door slid open. A line of fighters began rolling into the hangar. Virginia recognized them as belonging to her squadron, and wandered closer to welcome them back. One by one they rolled across the hangar floor, making room for the others still arriving behind them. The first to climb down from her cockpit was Lisa, but when she saw Virginia she just stopped where she was standing.
“What’s wrong?” Virginia asked.
Lisa broke into tears. “Virginia,” she sobbed, “… Zoe’s dead.”
HARMONY 112
It was all behind him now. Everything. His life … the hill … the elephants … the savannah. As what remained of Karl’s time continued to dwindle, JoEllen was leading him eastward again. Back toward the ocean. Back toward the academy. For what purpose he wasn’t entirely sure. But where she went, he went. For better or worse. And right now they were crossing the academy’s wheat fields, which were drenched in the light of Valhalla’s moon.
Since the forest was too difficult for Karl to traverse, JoEllen had decided on an easier route. This left them with no form of concealment though, so they were traveling by night to avoid being seen.
Between his coughs, which were growing more frequent by the hour, he imagined he could smell the faint scent of cereal. A gentle breeze lightly brushed along the tops of the wheat stalks, creating a soothing cascade of sound reminiscent of the beads in a baby’s rattle. How odd it seemed at this point in his life to be reminded of something intended for an infant. Like bookends, he mused. A baby rattle to symbolize the beginning. And now something else with a similar sound toward the end.
With each step it seemed he was growing weaker. If his feet didn’t fall on a level piece of ground, he often faced a struggle to maintain his balance. When the strength in his legs began to give out, he informed JoEllen he needed to rest, and carefully lowered himself to the ground.
“I’m not sure how much farther I can go,” he said. “If you have a plan, you might want to share it with me now, so I can help you figure out the best way to go forward.”
“There’s one more thing I think you should see,” she told him. “It isn’t much farther. Maybe another hour or two of walking.”
He looked toward the east and saw a thin line of light just starting to form along the bottom of the sky. “Another hour and we risk someone seeing us,” he said.
“No,” she insisted, pointing toward the north. “We’ll be in those trees before the sun rises.”
He looked north and saw a wall of darkness in the distance. Not far, if he could get himself moving again. “Alright,” he agreed, “we’ll make it to the trees. I have sufficient incentive to get myself that far at least, so I don’t end up on the inside of a grain harvester.”
After a few moments he struggled to his feet and followed JoEllen north toward the tree line. Above the trees he noticed pockets of stars in the sky — the first stars he’d seen since landing on Valhalla.
“Look at that,” he said, pointing up toward the sky. “It looks like whatever was interfering with the sunlight is finally showing signs of receding. Maybe things will return to normal today. Though I can’t say I’m looking forward to higher temperatures.”
When they reached the forest, they stopped to rest again, and waited for morning before proceeding. With the sunlight shining down through the canopy, they could walk among the trees without tripping over roots or bumping their heads on low hanging branches. Even so, they weren’t making very good progress since Karl required more frequent stops to rest. As a result, JoEllen’s estimate of one to two hours turned out to be overly optimistic.
With midday approaching they arrived at an area where the ground began to turn sandy and barren, as if worn by frequent foot traffic.
“Are we getting close?” Karl asked.
“We are,” she told him.
A layer of clouds soon rolled in overhead, bringing welcome relief from the tropical heat. After a while, Karl heard the sound of raindrops on the leaves, and before long he felt water dripping onto his face. It was cool, refreshing, and mildly invigorating. A sensation he’d not experienced since leaving Earth. With the raindrops to cool him, he pushed himself onward, determined to reach his final destination before his muscles grew too weak to continue. A few moments later JoEllen stopped.
“You’re not coming with me any further?” he asked.
She shook her head and pointed her left. Through the foliage, he could see the entrance to some sort of complex with earthen berm walls and covered walkways. Like so many of the buildings he’d seen on Valhalla, it was partially concealed beneath overhanging trees.
“What is this place?” he asked.
“There are nurses here,” she said. “Just walk inside. They’ll take care of you.”
He understood now why she’d brought him here. She knew his strength was fading fast, and she wanted him to be as comfortable as possible until the end.
“So … I guess this is goodbye,” he said. “Our travels have finally come to an end.”
She appeared to be at a loss for words. It was difficult to read the expression on her face, but he noticed the faintest of quivers from her lips. And that’s when it finally dawned on him.
“I just realized something,” he said. “It’s raining on you. Now why could that be? The voices must not be paying attention.”
“I don’t m
ind,” she replied. “It feels good today. Maybe they’re trying to help us stay cool.”
But Karl was certain he knew the truth. The rain was falling on her so he wouldn’t see her tears. And it was clearly intentional on her part.
He smiled and gave her an understanding nod. “It would seem that you have more influence over the weather than you thought.”
She gave up on trying to conceal her emotions. The anguish was clearly apparent on her face.
Karl decided he shouldn’t keep her any longer. It was time for him to say goodbye and let her go. “I want to thank you for showing me some of your world. These last few days … I wouldn’t have traded them for anything.” He reached up and ran his thumb across her left cheek. “I hope you find out who those voices belong to someday.”
She forced a smile.
He slowly turned away from her and started walking toward the hidden complex. The first time he looked back she was still standing there. The second time he looked she was walking away, with the rain continuing to shadow her movements. “Goodbye,” he whispered. She didn’t look back. His eyes followed her until she disappeared from sight.
Ahead of him was a set of double doors, both of which appeared to be propped wide open. A flat overhang shielded the doorway from above. A concrete pad served as a sturdy threshold. As he approached the opening he thought he heard voices. When he passed between the doors he saw children playing. Dozens of young girls dressed in blue denim jumpers. Their playroom was only partially enclosed, with a large round canopy to keep the rain off. The floor was a mixture of sand and dirt, very similar to the ground just outside the entrance. The whole room looked like a giant sandbox, complete with outdoor toys for young children, like seesaws, slides, and playground rocking horses. Across the room he saw two young nurses, speaking to each other near the opposite entrance. Though the nurses didn’t seem to notice him at first, the children spotted him right away. When the young girls’ voices all fell silent, the nurses suddenly looked his way, just in time to see him collapse to the ground.
The sandy floor helped to cushion his landing. He felt only minimal pain from the fall. But he was dizzy and weak. He couldn’t get up. Within seconds the nurses were standing over him.
“Oh my god! Where did he come from?”
“I don’t know. He doesn’t look well.”
“We have to get him to the infirmary, quick!”
“I’ll go get some help. See if you can find a gurney.”
“Make sure someone notifies Commander Phillips.”
His head was still spinning when they placed him on the gurney. In the playroom, the wheels bogged and dragged in the sand, but eventually he was rolling through a winding corridor where smooth solid floors made the going much easier. At first there were four nurses. Then five, and then six. As they raced through the complex in an effort to save him, he decided he should try to get in touch with his fleet, and see if he could mediate an end to the war.
One of the nurses grabbed his wrist and made an attempt to get his pulse rate.
“Radio,” he pleaded, almost too weak to speak.
She ignored him and urged her companions to hurry.
He tried to sit up and repeat his request, but as they wheeled him past an open courtyard, he was suddenly distracted by what sounded like a choir. A group of young girls were singing a song that repeatedly made reference to the miracle of life. Though he was certain he’d never heard the lyrics before, the melody was vaguely familiar to him.
“I know that song,” he tried to tell the nurses. “I recognize the tune. But the lyrics are different. The words are all wrong. What is it?” he asked. “What is it called?” But the nurses were focused on keeping him alive, and paid no attention to what he was saying.
Determined to put a name to the song before he died, he kept replaying the tune in his mind as he dug through his memory for the proper lyrics. “What is it?” he repeated. “I should know the answer. I remember everything.”
His gurney rolled into a brightly lit room. The nurses’ faces were growing blurry. He could hear them screaming medical jargon, but their voices were so faint now he could barely understand them.
Even as everything else began to fade, the song’s melody continued to run through his mind until a portion of the original lyrics resurfaced. Along with those lyrics came the answer he was seeking. His memory had succeeded in completing its final task.
“I remember now,” he declared with a smile as what remained of his cognizance drifted away…
Commander Phillips rushed into the nursery’s infirmary and realized she was already too late. Her heart was pounding. Her lungs were burning. Her legs would most likely take weeks to recover. Never before had she covered the entire distance between ECHO academy and the nursery so quickly. But her race against time had ended in failure. She’d missed her opportunity to question the pilot.
Still gasping for breath, she walked closer to the gurney. The pilot’s body was lying there lifeless, guarding secrets she would never be able to retrieve. The nurses were silent. Dejected. Defeated. Their failure to keep him alive a little longer meant a chance to end the war might have slipped through their fingers.
“How did he get here?” the commander asked.
“We don’t know,” Denise said. “He collapsed as soon as he walked in through the door.”
“Do we know why he died?”
“No, not yet.”
“Did any of you hear a fighter land nearby?”
The nurses all somberly shook their heads.
Commander Phillips sighed in frustration. “Well, he obviously managed to slip past our defenses. That could mean there’s a serious threat to us. Did he say anything?”
“He was rambling incoherently,” one of the nurses explained. “Kept insisting he needed to remember something.”
Commander Phillips looked at each of the nurses in turn, hoping one of them might have something more to tell her. “Did he mention anything specific?” she asked.
“Yes,” Polly answered with an air of reluctance. “Just before he stopped breathing, he said something about a yellow submarine.”
“Yellow submarine? Are you sure?”
“Yes, Commander. What do you think it could mean?”
Commander Phillips looked at the pilot’s face and wondered if he might have been suffering from delusion. “I don’t know. I suppose it could mean we need to keep a closer eye on our coastline. If there’s a chance they have a submarine operating in our oceans, we need to find a way to track it down.”
“What do you think we should do with his body?” Denise asked.
“Just pack him in ice for now, I guess. I’ll contact Cumulus and see if they want him for research.”
RANDOM FATES 113
“You’re sure these are the right coordinates?”
“Yes, sir,” Lieutenant Jarvis replied. “This is right where we were sitting when that comet came through.”
Commander Ingman looked at the radar screen and saw four additional contacts headed his way. He could tell they were ships from the admiral’s task force, but the Alabama was not among them. Nor was the carrier Johannesburg. These were all cruisers that had been swept away, just like the Melbourne, and the Belfast, and the Portsmouth. The captains were returning to the last known position where they’d still had any contact with the admiral’s flagship.
As the cruisers arrived at the rendezvous point, Commander Ingman staged them in defensive positions to guard the gap in the asteroid field. The first to arrive was a light cruiser. The three that followed were all heavy cruisers, the last of them being the UES Lisbon, whose appearance drew gasps from the Melbourne’s crew.
“Uh, Commander,” Lieutenant Berens insisted, “I think you’d better have a look at this.”
When Commander Ingman turned his attention to the Lisbon, he couldn’t believe what his eyes were seeing. Wrapped around the cruiser’s sharply angled prow was an enemy destroyer which she’d struck amidships,
cleaving halfway through from the starboard side. For an instant he entertained thoughts of rescuing the crew in the hopes of learning something of importance from them. But his instincts quickly told him there would be no survivors. The gash in the hull was severe enough that the bulkheads had likely been torn asunder, leaving the interior depressurized. There was nothing he could do for the ship’s crew, he realized. But their misfortune had presented him with an unexpected opportunity.
“Lieutenant Berens, I want three of our best hull technicians up here on the double. And get me Lieutenant Amarelli as well.”
When Pogo arrived on the bridge he seemed nervous and confused, like a student who’d been called to the principal’s office. “You wanted to see me, Commander?” he asked.
Commander Ingman waved him in through the doorway. “Lieutenant Amarelli, step right this way please. I have a special mission for you. Have you been qualified in EVA suits yet?”
“EVA suits, sir?”
“Extra Vehicular Activity, Lieutenant.”
“No, sir, I haven’t. What’s the mission?”
“You’re going to be leading an extraction team.”
“Like a rescue mission?”
“Not exactly,” the commander said. He looked out through the window and nodded toward the Lisbon. Pogo’s eyes shot wide open when he saw the destroyer.
“You asked for an enemy radio, Lieutenant. Here’s a chance for you to get your hands on one. I’m sending three of our best hull doctors over there with you. They’ll get you inside and clear a path to the bridge so you can have a look around and let us know what you might need.”
“Me, sir?” Pogo asked, his voice riddled with uncertainty.
“Yes, you, Lieutenant,” the commander confirmed. “I’m not gonna take a chance on someone else screwing this up. We may never get an opportunity like this again.”