by Paul Tassi
“To be fair, I thought you were crazy before this entire thing.”
She scoffed, shrugging her shoulders.
“Look around, don’t you think you’d have to be a little bit crazy to be where we are right now?”
Lucas sat on the floor as well, leaning up against the console that was meant to activate the light barrier that barricaded the cell. The scene reminded him a bit of their first conversation on the ship months ago, back when she was still just the nameless siren who left him to die in Georgia.
“You know, you don’t look anything like him,” Asha said suddenly, looking Lucas over as he sat across from her.
“Like who?”
“He called himself Roy, but who knows if that was really his name.”
“Who was he? And . . . who was Christian?” Lucas pressed.
She tilted her head back against the wall and let out a long sigh.
“Christian and I were engaged. He was my favorite photographer. He could make me look better in his shoots than anyone else in the industry. Once we were together, I found he could make me not only a better model, but a better person as well.”
She paused.
“Our wedding was set for a week after the first ship showed up. As you might imagine, that really threw a wrench in things, and we were desperately trying to get back to our families in California after being on set in North Carolina.”
Asha hadn’t started out her journey all that far from him, Lucas realized.
“When the war began, we were lucky to escape Charlotte alive. The city was wiped out almost immediately. Soon after, we joined a group, as most everyone did. Ours was about thirty deep, and led by Roy. He was short, stocky, and balding, someone you would never take for an authority figure. I still to this day don’t know what he did in his old life. He wasn’t military or police, but he spoke loudly and with confidence, and that’s all it took to be a leader in those days.”
Lucas disagreed with that statement, as he had been rather soft-spoken as his own group’s leader, but he supposed at the time he did exude a sense of purpose. He remained silent and let Asha continue.
“Things got bad. People died. Roy wasn’t so confident anymore. The West Coast was supposed to be annihilated, and he swore Alaska would be our salvation as the temperature rose each day under the red sky. But he was starting to lose it.”
Asha walked over to the table and picked up the Magnum, checking to make sure it was indeed as empty as it felt. No snide remark followed.
“One night, when I was in the woods attempting to find usable firewood, he came after me. Told me he deserved me for all he’d gotten us through, for keeping us alive. He clawed at me and was stronger than he looked because he’d been hoarding much of the food for himself. I was weak and couldn’t fight, so I screamed. Part of me wonders what might of have happened if I hadn’t.”
She stared down at the pistol.
“It happened so fast. Christian came running, and drew his gun immediately. His father’s revolver that had saved our lives many times the past few weeks from humans and creatures alike. But Roy was quick, and without even re-buckling his pants, drew his own pistol. Both fired. Roy’s shoulder blew apart. Christian took a round in the chest.”
She stopped for a long time, and neither of them said anything. The Magnum’s significance was clear now.
“I picked up Roy’s gun from the forest floor. There was terror in his eyes as he looked down the barrel, but I couldn’t pull the trigger. It was frozen. Or I was frozen. He ran away, clutching his wound. I heard him yelling to the rest of camp that he’d been attacked by bandits, and Christian and I were already dead.”
She set the gun back down.
“But we weren’t. Christian lived for a full day afterward. I couldn’t move him, and the medical supplies were gone when the rest of the camp fled from the imaginary invaders. Toward Alaska. Christian didn’t have any last words, because he couldn’t speak. His eyes pleaded with me as he kept motioning to his gun with the only arm he could move. I told him I couldn’t. No way. His killer got away, and he suffered until the end because I was weak. After that day, I was never weak again.”
Lucas sat in silence.
“I’m sorry,” he finally said. It was the best he could come up with.
“For what?”
“For how you lost him. When my own group was slaughtered, it was horrific, but I didn’t know them, not really. I lost my family in an instant, thousands of miles away, and I didn’t even know it. What you went through, I can see how it would change you. I can see why you’d follow a man like that to Alaska.”
She sighed.
“I never saw him again, except in the pod. I had to relive that night, that entire next day. No first date memories, no New Year’s Eve proposal. The pod wouldn’t give me what I wanted, but I realize now, even if I did get to go back to one of those moments, it wouldn’t last. I’d wake up and Christian would still be dead, and I’d still be on a spaceship a billion miles from home. The future is all we have now.”
“He’d be happy you survived.”
“I suppose he would.”
“So what do you live for now, if not revenge?”
“I don’t know. I guess I have to figure that out. What about you?”
Lucas thought of a response, but was interrupted by a large eight-foot frame at the door. Alpha was standing there with Noah seated in his good claw. It was the first time Lucas could remember seeing Alpha hold him, even if he was handling him like a piece of fruit.
“The child would have words,” he said.
As Noah saw Asha, his eyes lit up and he waved his arms in her direction. Then suddenly . . .
“Ah-sha!”
Lucas’s mouth hung open.
“Ah-sha!
She broke at last, and tears streamed down her face as she took Noah into her arms.
Lucas looked at the strange band before him. The woman, the child, the alien. He thought of what Adam had said to him in his final pod experience.
“It’s not only about survival; you need something to be fighting for.”
He would fight for them.
17
Lucas slept soundly for the first night in a week, plagued by no further visions of shadowy figures near his bed. Asha truly seemed healed, and it was miraculous what Alpha had done over the past week with her mind. Had she undergone such a breakdown on Earth, surely she would have ended up institutionalized and doped up indefinitely, but here, a week later, she appeared to be entirely cured. It really was a shame the Xalans hadn’t come in peace. Who knew how Earth might have changed as a result of such scientific breakthroughs? But it was a pointless thought now, as it was clear the planet would never recover from its mortal injuries, and no amount of technology would change that.
As he prepared for his morning workout, a voice rang out through the corridor.
“Crew to command.”
Alpha rarely summoned them together anymore, and it had to be something rather important to issue such an order this early in the morning.
Lucas hastily dressed and got to the CIC where Asha and Alpha were already waiting. Asha looked leagues better than she had even yesterday. Color had returned to her face and it seemed she’d gained back five pounds overnight. Lucas wondered if Alpha had prescribed her additional nutrients that would return her to a healthy weight. She glanced at Lucas and gave a half-smile that caught him off guard. Perhaps recent events had brought them closer than he realized.
Alpha derailed his train of thought.
“We have an issue that I have avoided discussing while Asha’s recovery was taking place. But now it is a subject we can avoid no longer.”
The holotable showed the Milky Way with several points of interest marked.
“What kind of issue?” Lucas asked.
Alpha moved his claw and the galaxy map turned into a video of their brawl in the water chamber.
“You may have been too incapacitated to notice, but your al
tercation destroyed a large amount of our water supply.”
The video showed Asha being thrown through the container and the water turning into steam instantaneously once it poured through the grating. The tank across from it was leaking a large amount of water itself, pierced by a shot from the Magnum.
“I noticed. Sorry, but I didn’t really have a choice.”
Alpha scoffed.
“I believe you could have handled the situation in a way that didn’t involve the destruction of 7 percent of our fuel, but apologies are not required. We must simply deal with the task at hand.”
Asha spoke, not bothering to apologize for her role in the fight.
“What task at hand? Is 7 percent really that much?”
“Simply put, yes. I was already a bit concerned we may fall short of our final destination as we burn through our fuel supply at an increased pace with the [garbled] core. But even with those consumption rates, there was an 87 percent probability we would reach our final destination.”
“And now?” Lucas asked.
“There is a zero percent chance. Seven percent of our water supply tipped the balance of the calculations, and even if we make it 96.738 percent of the way to our destination, as I predict, in a best-case scenario we will still be several trillion miles out with no means of reaching Sora.”
The room fell silent. Was their journey over? Had they really come all this way just to die floating in space, running on empty? Alpha read his mind.
“There is a plan to avoid this fate, one I have been developing over the past week, which now needs to be shared with you.”
Lucas breathed a sigh of relief. Alpha always had a plan.
“There is a fuel depot in the upcoming system of [garbled]. It is the midway point between Xala and the colony [garbled], and is one of many such depots that have been dispersed as stopovers all around this quadrant of the galaxy.”
The map returned, and a section of one of the spiral’s arms was highlighted.
“So we can just fuel up and be on our way?” Lucas asked.
“It is unfortunately not that simple. Fuel stations are not automated; they are manned by a small crew.”
Asha was already thinking ahead.
“And right now you’re Xala’s most wanted.”
“I am likely a high priority target, based on Commander Omicron’s personal interest in securing me.”
Lucas continued the thought.
“And you said any ship that you fly is tagged with your signature.”
Alpha expanded.
“And their sensors will also pick up Soran life-forms onboard the vessel.”
“Meaning us. So how the hell is this going to work then?” Asha asked, arms crossed.
Alpha entered some commands and a stream of Xalan symbols appeared in place of the galaxy. Lucas could pull out a few, but they were moving much too fast for him to process what exactly he was seeing.
“I have been developing an algorithm that will mimic the effects of a solar storm. It will disrupt their sensors without appearing as if they are being purposefully disabled. They will be unable to scan the ship, and will not recognize that you are on it, or that it has been flagged as being piloted by a traitor.”
Lucas shifted and leaned up against the table.
“Sounds easy enough.”
“Perhaps, but I do not know how long the system will take to detect the malfeasance. Hopefully long enough to allow us to refuel and depart before they are the wiser. If not, we will have larger issues to deal with than a lack of water.”
Asha had a suggestion of her own.
“Why bother with all this? Why can’t we just attack the station, take the water, blow it to hell, and leave?”
“A direct assault would immediately alert the entire fleet to our whereabouts, including Commander Omicron. We will already be losing time on him by making this detour, but if he’s alerted quickly enough, he could divert his course and arrive before we are able to escape.”
Asha looked annoyed at the suggested absence of violence.
“Additionally, though the crew is relatively small for a space station, they are still trained soldiers, and fifty of them in a relatively confined area would not be a fight we would be capable of winning in a head-on assault.”
“You want us to just sit on the ship with our thumbs up our asses while you smooth talk your way into some fuel?” Asha said.
“I do not understand much of your phrasing, but yes, you will remain onboard while I relay a cover story to the crew as to why we are here. A lone transport this far out into dead space will raise some questions of its own. Even without their equipment, the presence of our ship will be . . . curious.”
“And what happens if your hack fails or they don’t buy your bullshit?” Asha asked.
“Then more drastic action may be required. For this reason, you will be hiding in the armory.”
Lucas thought briefly about being trapped in a room full of guns with the woman who just tried to kill him for the third (fourth?) time, but he supposed in this case, it was unavoidable.
“This sounds incredibly dangerous,” he said, thinking more of the entire plan than Asha’s recent instability.
“Yes, but of all the fuel stations I researched, this is the most isolated and very much understaffed. Mathematically, it is our best chance for survival. It is our only option.”
The room fell silent after that.
The unpronounceable star system they were approaching was still five days out. There were no more fun fighter pilot diversions, nor learning reflexive Soran verbs. Lucas and Asha spent their time training in real life, with her especially attempting to regain much of the strength she’d lost. Should her services be required, she had to be in top form, and she was pushing herself to a degree that surprised Lucas.
Asha returned to her storage cube–based lifting routine, but cycled in many of Lucas’s own isometric exercises, and the two of them sprinted against each other down the longest hallway they could find. Lucas won every time, but by the final day, she was within a half-second of catching him.
Panting, Lucas attempted to catch his breath, as the ten back and forths they’d just completed had him winded. Asha walked around with her arms above her head, her tank top completely soaked in sweat.
“See what you can do with a good night’s sleep?” Lucas said in between breaths.
“Please, I’ve had personal trainers since I was sixteen. Do you really think this is a tough workout you’ve crafted?”
Her breathing was already returning to normal. She started boxing the air furiously, and spun around with a barefoot kick that Lucas remembered connecting to his jaw the last time he’d seen it.
“Are you really going to kickbox eight-foot-tall aliens to death?”
“Well, you won’t let me in the armory yet, so I have to make do. Besides, it’s about speed and flexibility.”
She flung out three sharp jabs and an uppercut before Lucas could even blink.
“And yeah, I think if push came to shove, I could knock one of those things out cold.”
Lucas doubted this was the case, but she had come a long way in under a week.
He decided to relay to her the information he’d learned about Noah. He was in the hall with them, busying himself with a bit of foam tubing he’d managed to pry off somewhere, but even if he had spoken, he didn’t have the cognitive abilities to process what was being said. Afterward, Asha merely shrugged.
“No thoughts?” Lucas said, a bit caught off guard.
“I mean, we knew he was the kid of one of those monsters. What does it matter which one? I guess he’ll be bigger than us in a few months, but other than that, it doesn’t really matter.”
Lucas supposed she was right. Yes, he could see the chief’s mental state deteriorate in the pages of the book, but given the circumstances he was in, it hardly seemed like a genetic trait. And other than his initial bout of silence and his burns, Noah was a happy, healthy kid. At lea
st until the next cosmic disaster turned their little group on its head once again. And one was looming.
“Do you think this is going to work?” asked Asha as she leaned up against the wall.
“I’ve no idea. Alpha’s smart, but it seems a bit far-fetched, even with everything we’ve been through so far. Won’t they . . . recognize him if he’s some top-priority criminal?”
“Puh, would you recognize him? They all look alike to me.”
It was xenophobic, but undeniably true. Other than being various shades of gray, only minor variances like eye color and slightly differently sized and shaped facial features were noticeable. The only one that had ever really stood out to Lucas was the dark black Omicron. Suddenly they heard a voice from behind them.
“The crew is a long way from Xala, and there is likely no reason they would have been dispatched my image given their remote location.”
Alpha stood with some sort of electronic pad in hand.
“And yes, of course we can tell each other apart. It is a trait of any living species.”
“I was joking, Alpha,” Asha said drolly.
Lucas interjected.
“So why is Omicron black when the rest of you are light or dark gray?”
Alpha pondered the question.
“He is a [garbled]. Naturally, you do not have a word for it. The closest equivalent term might be ‘shadow.’”
“Is he just a different race, like the same way we have different skin tones on Earth?”
“No, it is not the same, though Sorans do share that trait. Rather, a Shadow is a specific creation. All Xalans are altered genetically from birth to increase strength and intelligence, but Shadows are different.”
He paused for a moment as Noah had crawled over to him and was grabbing his toe claw.
“My father has . . . had argued against the procedure for years as inhumane, but with the escalation of the war, its use has only increased.”
“What exactly is a Shadow?”
“They are Xalan, but genetically enhanced to . . . unsafe levels. Only one out of every 1,145 survive the procedure, making it both highly dangerous and tremendously expensive. But those who emerge on the other side have tremendous speed, strength, and reflex capabilities, with the darkening of the skin an inescapable side effect. They also process information at a much faster rate. Imagine the way it feels when you are plugged into the [garbled] cables. A Shadow thinks at such a speed at all times with no cerebral fatigue. As such, Shadows are often found in positions of great power, like Commander Omicron. Some say he was the first to ever live through the procedure.”