Cassiel Winters 1: Sky's End

by Lesley Young

  When he realizes I’m waiting for his promise of secrecy, he rolls his eyes and says, “Cross my heart, hope to die,” using his finger to make an ‘X’ over his heart.

  I pass the piece to him. He snatches some device from his pocket, sits on the edge of Jordanna’s downcore, and gets to work. He’s completely absorbed. I could strip right now and he wouldn’t notice.

  After a while, I swing my feet around and lie back on the downcore. I try to pull up Lt. Lazarus’s face from my déjà vu experience. Did he have a guilty expression? Or was it merely shock? Or fear?

  I zone out entirely, clearing my mind of everything, so I can analyze all the facts fresh.

  “Ah-ha! Galactic Wonder strikes again!” shouts Hathaway.

  Quickly I get up, sit beside him, and focus on the square device in his hands. He has indeed activated it. A faint green light’s emanating from a sliver so narrow I didn’t see it until now.

  “I think I know what this is. Hold on,” he says, when a sudden burst of color and a three-dimensional LV-like image comes out of the device. It’s a miniature, incredibly realistic image of Dark Eyes speaking into something.

  Instinctively, I scramble back on the downcore.

  “It’s okay, it’s okay,” says Hathaway, surprised by my reaction, attempting to calm me. “It can’t hurt you.” I blow up my cheeks, letting out a big gasp of needless fear. After a moment, he adds, looking back at the apparition, “Do you recognize this person? He’s one remarkable-looking dude. I mean, if you go for that sort of look.”

  I nod my head to his first question. More pictures float out of the device. Dark Eyes with some family around him, holding a crest like he won something, leading a child down a road. What the . . .?

  “So, is this some kind of personal log?” I murmur.

  “Appears to be so. Like a record-history.”

  “Is there any sound?”

  “I can’t seem to get that,” says Hathaway. “Who is this guy?”

  “The Thell’eon Commander, or at least I think he is.” I look at Hathaway, realizing he probably doesn’t know about Operation Winters’ Storm.

  When I start to tell him, he cuts me off. “Winters, I know everything going on at ESE. There isn’t a security code I can’t break. How do you think I knew to test the device out on you? I knew about the mission they were sending you on, and I couldn’t let you go without some protection.”

  Oh. Wow.

  “So I wasn’t some random lucky opportunity for you to test your device?” I ask.

  He turns red, averting his gaze.

  “Thanks again, Hath,” I say, punching him lightly on the shoulder.

  I glance back at the three-dimensional record-history of Dark Eyes on display in front of me. These are just random images from his life, I guess. It runs for about two minutes and then repeats.

  “Not exactly intel ESE would care about,” I mutter.

  “Nope, though they would probably want the images for identification purposes,” answers Hathaway. “Sorry to disappoint.”

  I’m fascinated by the record-history. In this setting Dark Eyes seems not so terrifying.

  It takes a moment for me to realize Hathaway is waiting for something.

  “Oh, you didn’t disappoint! Not at all. I appreciate your help," I add, looking back at the images.

  He smiles.

  “Any time, Winters. Any time.”

  His hand rests on my knee. He appears sort of serious, though it’s hard to tell with him.

  “Uh, not a chance, Hath,” I say, removing his hand, which is smooth, like a baby’s bottom. I get up, making it clear it’s time for him to leave—just in case the vibe turns from playful to awkward.

  “You know, I’ve got this secret on you now, too.” He reluctantly stands, preparing to depart.

  “Yes, but you agreed to show me how it works, didn’t you?”

  I glance down the corridor to make sure no one is around and give him the go-ahead.

  “There are other more exciting things I would happy to show-” He doesn’t get to finish before I shove him out the door.

  I return to the device and watch the vision play out several more times. The Thell’eon children Dark Eyes is playing with all have hair. So do a few of the women I spot. They’re bigger than human women, too, which only makes sense. Only the men seem to shave their heads and sport the unusual markings.

  Dark Eyes seems to be enjoying a loving family. This does not jive with the images of him seething and screaming at me on his ship.

  I shake my head. Like I can get rid of those horrors by jumbling the images around. I feel weird, guilty?, about watching his private life. Mostly, I’m disappointed that it turned out to be nothing very useful.

  I decide to turn the unit off, but can’t figure out how. Great. Well, with any luck, it will run out of power. I grab an extra blanket, fold it up, and place it over the device blocking out the light. I decide to grab a quick dinner in Proxy. With any luck, I can get back to my pod and enjoy some alone-time, reading my new favorite book, which I scored off a dealer in Euro Zone.

  Back in my pod, I change into my light blue pajama bottoms and a thin white A-doile in keeping with today’s non-ESE wardrobe choices. It’s uplifting to wear something other than gray. I brush my hair and climb into my downcore loving that I have the pod to myself, maybe all night. I don’t expect Jordanna back, or not, at least until the wee hours. Earlier I saw her drinking heavily with a good-looking officer in Proxy. If she took a chance getting it on, she would be very careful, so I don’t worry about her. She gave me a loaded glance before I left Proxy.

  I come to, groggy as all get out. I must have fallen asleep reading Anna Karenina (not exactly an easy read). It takes me a second to realize it’s not morning.

  I never wake up in the middle of the night.

  I sit up. Oh. Crap. Dark Eye’s stupid record-history is glowing much stronger from under the blanket, plus it’s flashing on and off.

  How am I going to get myself out of this mess? I really don’t want to have to explain my duplicity to anyone, especially Jordanna, who’s already scared I will get myself, and maybe even her by proxy, kicked out of ESE. I exhale loudly, frustrated. My best and only option, it would seem, is to destroy it.

  I get out of the downcore and reach into my nightstand for my gamma gun. I can explain away an accidental fire burst. But the drawer is empty.

  Oh. That’s right. It’s being inspected and overhauled after Operation Winters’ Storm.

  Maybe I can short the thing out in a glass of water? I’m just about to get out of the downcore, when a powering up noise comes out of the flashing device. I freeze, one leg out of the downcore.

  Uh, this is not good. Astonished, a ray of light spreads out into a uniform rectangular splotch on the pod floor. Then my brain recognizes the sound: a transporter beam.

  No, no, NO!

  Chapter 12

  I hurl myself under the downcore, instantly regretting not running for the door, though I wouldn’t have had time to get to it, because whatever happened is over.

  It’s pitch black, utterly quiet.

  Time seems to stand still. I listen hard.

  Nothing.

  Still nothing.

  Relief washes over me, and I feel silly. Maybe the thing’s finally running out of power?

  I’m about to lift a finger to crawl out from under the downcore when the faintest sound of movement causes my stomach to drop like inertial force.

  Listen!

  Yes, there it is again! My brain seems to be suspended, hung up, apparently on its own stupidity.

  The portal starts up again with the flashing light, and it illuminates the floor. On and off, out of time with my rapid heart rate.

  In
one flash, there’s a pair of boots; the next flash another pair.

  Two Thell’eon! There are two Thell’eon in my pod!

  You effing moron! You’re going to die! They have come to kill you, thanks to the fucking device, which is some kind of portal, and now they can infiltrate ESE, maybe kill others!

  Oddly, my rage is directed at Hathaway for not spotting the technology for what it is. Some genius.

  My face floods with blood, and my teeth grind together painfully, preventing me from screaming. Why isn’t the ship’s intruder alert on?

  I can’t believe how silent they are.

  Come on. Hold it together. Formulate a plan!

  What should I do?

  Why do anything? Just wait it out. Your com-tab’s on the table. Grab it and set off the alarm after they leave to do whatever it is they are here to do.

  Problem.

  They don’t seem to be leaving.

  One’s lingering in front of my books, the other’s milling about over by the privy, I think. What the fuck?

  The sound of a book being pulled off the shelf kicks me in the gut—one of them’s touching my things! I’ve got a few record-histories of Daz and me, and my parents on those shelves. If they lay a finger on those, I swear . . .

  Why are they even here, nosing about in a cadet’s pod, and not infiltrating ESE to gain information or something?

  It’s then that I realize how badly I have to pee. Metatabulous. The situation could not get any better.

  “Is this hers?” whispers a raspy, familiar raspy, voice.

  I stand corrected. It could get better.

  Green Eyes is in my pod! And they must be referring to me. Who else could her be?

  I remember how they looked at me, after Green Eyes shouted ‘Sift!’

  I actually think my heart has stopped beating, and momentarily welcome The End. Hold it together! I breathe as shallow as possible, willing my body not to move a fraction.

  Funny how hard that is when you have to think about it.

  The other one does not answer, or maybe the word’s not translated.

  Silence.

  Maybe, just maybe, they gave up. Why not? Anything’s possible, right?

  I think, breathe quieter!, as a warm hand grasps my ankle and drags me extraordinarily quickly out from under the downcore. I scream, downright hysterical, grasping at the bare floor and my downcore, tearing my fingernails in the process, and kick with all my might as soon as I’m fully out from under the downcore. I manage to make contact with something and sharp pain sears through my foot. The flashing light is like a strobe; one minute I can see them, the next I can’t. But my leg is free, and I waste no time scrambling to standing.

  I know where the door is, and I can probably get to it before them.

  Between flashes, somehow, Green Eyes has reached it first.

  I step back, glancing around quickly to assess the situation. In one flash, I ascertain that there are indeed only two intruders in my pod. In the next flash I catch a glimpse of the other. Dark Eyes himself!

  Incredible.

  Surreal. There are monsters. In my pod. Wearing sharp metal objects and dark metallic suits. Art etched into their skin. That’s why they do it—to make them more menacing!

  Each time the light flashes, they have moved closer, exuding excitement.

  Not happening. But it is!

  Is this some kind of game? Recalling how much Thell’eon are purported to love a good contest, I decide to capitulate.

  “I’m sorry!” I say shakily. “Really, I’m very, very sorry. They made me do it. Please don’t—”

  This has absolutely no effect, so I shut up. My heart sinks. If they wanted to kill me, they would have already. And since the portal’s now beaming a pad on the floor again, this can only mean one thing: they are here to take me!

  I dash over my downcore, hoping without hope to evade them. There’s nowhere to go! I swipe at my shelves of books to create a distraction, or at least some kind of sign that a struggle took place. But I barely manage to knock down a few of them before Green Eyes smashes into me, backing me flat up against the wall in one bound with his towering frame.

  Scream!

  Too late!

  His giant hand clamps tight over my mouth. He’s covering my nose, too.

  I panic, trying to make it clear by exaggerated effort that I can’t breathe. I squirm and whimper. I can’t get any limb free no matter how I move.

  “Your struggle is pointless, but enjoyable,” he whispers in my ear.

  I freeze. My eyes search just above his broad round shoulders. I smell the musky scent of the warship on him, and it’s a toss up between peeing myself in terror or passing out from lack of oxygen.

  Dark Eyes is coming at me with something, and I strain my eyes as far right as they will go in their sockets in order to make out some sort of endo-spray!

  I squirm again, to no avail.

  A tiny pinch where he sprays me on my neck.

  A tingling sensation of some concoction entering my system.

  A flash of pride sweeping over Dark Eyes.

  Blackness.

  Part Two

  Chapter 13

  I come to slowly, like I’m emerging from deep underwater. I have to fight like crazy to surface. Something’s very wrong, and before I get my eyes open I know what it is.

  I have to pee. Urgently.

  My brain loosely grasps at some thread. A strange smell. You’ve smelled that weird earthy-metallic scent before. Come on. Where?

  The Thell’eon ship! And it all comes back to me.

  Where am I?

  I struggle against the drug to open my eyes. As soon as I do, they clamp back down heavy. But the foggy scene that made its way to my brain is enough to get the cortisol swirling around. I manage to will my lids open and keep them open.

  It is a Thell’eon ship! No! Somehow I’d hoped maybe all of this was a bad dream.

  As I regain muscle control, incredibly slowly, I take in my situation. I’m resting in a seat that molds to my shape to keep me semi-upright in a hold just big enough for one person. Another hold, just like this one, only empty, is across the ship. It’s a small ship. In the center of the round vessel in front of me are four Thell’eons, leaning into thin metal chairs, each shaped in a loose ‘S’. I spot Dark Eyes and Green Eyes, eyes closed. Even in such a passive state, they’re threatening. It’s the razor sharp weapons still strapped on different parts of their bodies. No. It’s more than that. It’s their comportment. Takes a lifetime of training to develop that kind of physical threat, and, then to tame it into submission as needed. There are no consoles or controls that I can see. The ship’s incredibly compact, no doubt so it will fly fast, away from Earth and ESE!

  Funny how the brain works. I know that I’m being taken away from everything that matters to me, that I’m in serious danger. But all that matters in this moment is relieving my bladder.

  I can’t believe how groggy I am. I’m probably not supposed to come out of this drug so early.

  I attempt to move in the hold but my body feels like dead weight. I make out some sort of almost invisible field in front of me. I struggle and manage to reach out and touch it ever so lightly. A jolt of incredible pain tears through my arm. Bursting white light blinds me momentarily.

  All four Thell’eon open their eyes and look at me. My heart skips a beat.

  And yet. I can’t help being fascinated by their technology. ESE Command did confirm my assumption that they interface with it somehow (no doubt why their ships are faster), and I suppose it’s how they have all sensed my movement.

  Dark Eyes nods at Green Eyes, who gets up and comes toward me. The ship’s so compact he barely fits past the other Thell’eons. He seems larger t
o me in my incapacitated state. Nope, not imagining it. He’s not wearing anything up top but weapons, and he reminds me of a life-like sketch, his muscles are almost too prominent—only, no, those brandings or markings are too foreign to ever be dreamed up by humans. He’s reaching into his pocket in his pants, and I fear he plans to knock me out again.

  “Please,” I croak out. My mouth feels stiff and full of cake. “I have to pee.”

  My muffled words have no effect. Desperate, I say urgently, “I have to pee. You know, ur-i-nate,” I say with exaggerated enunciation, though it still sounds muffled. I’m really not myself.

  He’s drawing in some code with his finger on the wall, maybe to let me pee, maybe to knock me out again. Since I can’t be sure. I keep at it desperately. “You know, drain the dragon. Squeeze the lemon?”

  Oh, what do I care if I pee myself? They’re the ones responsible for this situation. Just when I decide to end my misery, Green Eyes, is he smirking?, turns off the field and scoops me up out of the seat in his arms, and I gasp from the strain on my bladder. He carries me effortlessly around the nearby Thell’eons to the other side of the ship. At this point I don’t care that he’s touching me. The drug they gave me has rendered me docile. He’s my only chance of dignified relief. My eyelids feel heavy and I struggle to keep them open. Must hold on.

  He waves his wrist over the wall and a door vanishes revealing the tiniest of compartments. Just enough to fit one Thell’eon male with a hole in one side of the wall, and, on the other side, a slightly sloped seat with a hole in it. Perfect! Green Eyes props me up on my feet against the slanted hole and the door closes. I manage to tug down my pajama bottoms with great effort, then lean back down on the slant. The relief’s palpable.

  With that emergency taken care of, my brain, which is working in super slow motion (I think it is this drug), fights to make sense of the situation.

  It doesn’t get past Why me?