This seemed to rally Miles’s spirits at least, though the rest of them looked unconvinced and, indeed, even Calvin assumed he was walking like an animal into a slaughterhouse. He would make sure to come prepared, armed to the teeth to defend himself, but he knew he was no match for a garrison of Polarian soldiers. Not if they were anything like Rez’nac…
“Rez’nac, have the coordinates of the dampening field generator station sent to pod three. Rafael, I want you to suit up and meet me there as quickly as possible.
“And you, sir, what will you be doing?” asked Rafael.
“I need full climate gear,” said Calvin. “The scans of that world indicate that no life could survive on its own—isn’t that right, Cassidy?”
“Yes, sir. Those are my readings.”
“I’m headed to the quartermaster; Rafael, get what you need and meet me at pod three. The rest of you, man your duty stations.
As Calvin left the bridge, he couldn’t help wondering if those would be the final commands he would ever give as CO of the Nighthawk.
CHAPTER 03
Rain waited in the corridor next to hatch three. When she arrived, Rafael was there waiting, expecting Calvin.
“Calvin asked me to tell you to go into the pod and prep it for launch,” she told Rafael. Quickly adding, “Calvin wanted a final word with me before…the mission.” At that, Rafael nodded understandably—Calvin and Rain were rumored to be a romantic item, and very nearly that had been true—and so Rafael had needed very little convincing to vacate the area and disappear into the pod. The hatch closed behind him. That left Rain alone with her thoughts as she waited for Calvin to arrive.
In another life things would have been different, she mused, listening to the almost silent hum of the starship. She allowed herself to indulge in the fantasy—but only momentarily—of what life would have been like had she the chance to live out a normal life expectancy…she imagined being with Calvin, maybe even having children together once all this was through; it was a peaceful thought. But she knew it would never be—indeed it could never be—and there wasn’t a thing in the galaxy she, or anyone else in the galaxy could do to change it. We are but leaves in the wind, blowing wherever life takes us, so long as we’re alive, she thought. Yet every day, and every experience, is such a privilege. Even the bad times. And, the few choices we get to make, the kind that affect others, causing them to affect even more people, and so on, like ripples in a pond…what tremendous opportunities those choices present to us, she continued to think. She thought of the future, a future she would not live to see, and felt tears well up in her eyes, despite herself. She had made peace with her destiny long ago. Accepted the fact that she was sick and there was nothing that could be done to save her—she had even found comfort in the knowledge that, despite her illness, she was one of the lucky ones. To have ever been born at all had been an unfathomably unlikely thing, and yet here she was. And, for almost thirty years, she had been able to experience the full gamut of human feelings. And now, today, she would be forced to endure the experience she loved the least of all. Saying goodbye to someone she cared about for the last time.
It was enough to bring more tears to her eyes, but she wiped them away, unwilling to let the sadness overwhelm her. Instead, she thought of all the good things and remembered that, in every goodbye, there was something to celebrate—and that was the honor she had had in being a part of someone’s life at all, through thick and thin. And though she would never see that person again, she could revel in the fact that she had been lucky enough to be a part of that person’s life, even if just for a single breath of time, and nothing and no one could ever take that away.
Eventually, Calvin arrived. He wore a full climate suit, including a glass-dome helmet, and he walked awkwardly around the corner and toward her on his way to the hatch. She could only just make out the look of surprise on his face through the thick face shield.
“Rain,” said Calvin, his voice slightly distorted by the air filter strapped around his mouth. “You came to say goodbye?” he sounded touched.
Rain nodded. “Yes,” she said, knowing that this was the last time she would ever see him. “I thought you deserved at least that much. No, I thought we both did.”
“Oh, Rain…” said Calvin, and as he looked at her, their eyes locked momentarily. He seemed at a loss for words. Then he asked about Rafael, why he hadn’t arrived at the hatch yet.
“Rafael is already in the pod, getting it ready,” said Rain. “I sent him on because…I wanted to have a moment alone with you. To…say goodbye.”
She reached out to embrace him and he took the clue. He pulled her into his arms, as tightly as he could—restricted by the climate gear—and she hugged him back, though he felt strange, so heavily bundled.
“Take off the helmet,” she whispered, just loud enough for him to hear.
“Why?” asked Calvin.
“So I can say goodbye to you properly,” she said, feeling more tears begin to form in her eyes. He must have noticed them too because, without any delay, he did as she asked, and removed the helmet.
Their eyes met once more and she could see pain in his eyes, though he did not shed any tears, unlike her.
“Oh, Rain,” said Calvin, giving her a tight squeeze once again. Their faces met and she kissed him. He kissed her back. Deeply and passionately. It was their kiss goodbye, Rain knew. The kiss of death. Yet never had anything tasted sweeter, nor had she experienced any moment in her life that felt more real and alive.
“I love you, Calvin Cross,” she said, once their lips had pulled apart.
“Have a good life, Rain,” said Calvin. “Should the worst happen, and I don’t make it back…promise me that you’ll live every moment to the fullest. No matter what happens.”
“I promise,” she said. Then she kissed him again. As they kissed, she deftly and stealthily removed the hypodermic needle from her right pocket with one hand, used her thumb to prep the plunger, then she reached around him, still kissing him passionately, and, once she’d found the correct spot on the back of his neck, she struck him with the needle, and pressed firmly on the plunger until the needle’s contents were fully delivered.
Calvin wiggled at first, surprised by the prick of the needle, but Rain held his head steady with her left hand, keeping it trapped close to hers. Once it was done, she kissed him a final time, and then pulled away.
“What in God’s name…?” Calvin said, sounding confused. He tried to say more, as he looked at her with eyes that seemed in a stupor, but his words became quickly incoherent and his eyelids too heavy.
“I love you, Calvin. Have a good life,” Rain said; she caught him as he began to collapse and she laid him gently onto the deck.
Once Calvin was completely passed out from the fast-acting general anesthetic, she administered a slow-acting counter drug—just in case—and then began to strip him of his climate suit. Having fully removed it, she put the pieces of the suit on herself—it was a big, awkward fit, but it sufficed—and, just before she put the helmet over her own head and sealed it, she bent down on one knee, kissed Calvin’s unconscious lips one final time, and whispered “Goodbye, sweet Calvin. I hope you will forgive me for this, one day. Long from now. When you have children, and a family, and everything else in life that you deserve.”
With that, she sealed the helmet, stood upright, and opened the hatch. She took one last glance behind her as she passed through, relishing the sight of the Nighthawk’s innards, and her sweet, beautiful Calvin—sleeping peacefully—and then she closed the hatch and descended the ladder into the pod.
“It’s about time you got here, Calvin,” said Rafael, as Rain reached the bottom of the ladder. The moment her feet touched the deck of the pod, Rafael sealed the pod’s upper hatch and began to disconnect the tiny vessel from the Nighthawk.
“Actually, it’s not Calvin,” said Rain. “It’s me.”
“Rain?” Rafael sounded perplexed.
“At the
last minute, I was able to convince Calvin that he is still needed on the Nighthawk and, since I’m already terminally ill, and since my staff can handle my medical duties as well as I can, I was the logical choice for this mission.”
Rafael nodded, seeming to accept this.
“Well, know this,” he said. “I consider what you are doing to be both noble and honorable. You really are a great example to the rest of us.”
“Thank you,” said Rain. She strapped in and Rafael did the same. She then sat in silence, watching the stars out the window, as Rafael piloted the pod, saying little else. The descent wasn’t long and, after only a few seconds, the grey planet came into view out of the side window. She looked at it, thinking it had a kind of beauty to it, albeit a harsh sort of beauty. And she supposed it was as good a place to die as any. Life is about the choices we make while we’re alive, she reminded herself. Not about where we are when we pass on to the next thing. Whatever that is.
“We’ll be at the LZ in just a few seconds,” said Rafael. “Assuming the control tower is where Rez’nac predicted it would be.”
Rain spotted an object in the distance, the gleam of metal just visible from a spot in the open upon the planet’s surface. “Is it that?” she pointed.
Rafael took a good look out the window then conducted some kind of scan, all while the pod approached the mysterious metal object using automated piloting.
“Looks like that could be it,” said Rafael, after his scan completed. By now the metal object looked close enough to touch and seemed to be a computer interface exposed to the elements. It was linked up through cables that disappeared underground; Rain guessed they powered the unit, and allowed it to send instructions to the dampening field generator. If there were guards on the planet, none seemed anywhere in sight.
With a jostle, the pod touched down. Rafael gave Rain a nod as she made her way to the airlock.
“Good luck out there,” he said. “I’ll be waiting for you here.”
“You’d damn well better not be,” said Rain, just as she reached the airlock.
“What do you mean?” asked Rafael.
“You know exactly what I mean,” said Rain, not interested in playing games. She appreciated Rafael’s moral support, but she wasn’t about to allow Rafael to risk—and probably lose—his life by marooning himself on this hostile planet, not after Rain had just saved Calvin’s life.
No, she thought. The only one staying behind today is me.
“You want me to take off in the pod without you?” asked Rafael, speaking as if Rain had gone completely mad.
“You know that’s the plan—that’s been the plan all along,” said Rain, as she opened the first airlock and stepped between it and the second airlock. “I will get that dampening field disabled, but I won’t be able to disable it for long. Either the system will reboot and correct itself, or else soldiers will come to investigate the problem and they will overpower me.”
“All the more reason to want a ride back,” said Rafael.
“If that dampening field isn’t down, there won’t be a ride out of here for either of us,” said Rain. “The tractor beams will engage on us, with the Nighthawk out of their way, and without the ability to jump into alteredspace…we’d be doomed.” She gave him an earnest look.
“But what about the rest of the plan?” asked Rafael. “The Nighthawk will launch a probe to get the attention of the tractor beams so we can slip away.” Even as he said it, his tone suggested his realization that such a plan sounded unlikely to succeed.
“Come on, Rafael, we both know that won’t work. The tractor beams will latch onto this pod, and that’ll be the end of us. Better that one of us escapes, along with the pod, than that two of us wind up marooned down here—or else trapped by tractor beams.”
Rafael nodded, accepting her logic, but seeming sad to do so. She appreciated that. It showed compassion on his part. But it wasn’t going to be enough to change Rain’s mind about what had to be done. She’d accepted the reality of the situation already. Now all that was left was to disable that dampening field so the rest of the crew could proceed with their mission.
“I’ll launch like you asked me to and get clear,” said Rafael, “but I’ll monitor your O2 levels and keep an eye on you.”
“Thanks,” said Rain, not sure what good that would do.
“Then,” Rafael explained, “Once I’m clear, and the Nighthawk is clear, I’ll ask them to try to bait the tractor beams with a probe. If that does work, then I’ll come right back down and get you. Just like Calvin wanted.”
Rain gave Rafael a wan smile. Not exactly like Calvin wanted, she thought, but kept that to herself. “You do whatever you have to do, Rafael,” said Rain. “But don’t sacrifice yourself to rescue me. I’ll be fine. Believe me.”
Rafael looked at her, still showing some confusion in his otherwise determined eyes, and, after staring at her for a few seconds, eventually nodded.
“Okay,” he said, finally accepting the full reality of what was happening, and what price needed to be paid.
“Goodbye, Rain. And good luck,” said Rafael just as the airlock door slid shut.
“Goodbye, Rafael. You were a good man,” said Rain, though it was too late for Rafael to hear her. The pressure equalized between the airlocks and then the far airlock opened, exposing her to the elements of this alien world. She charged into the torrent of dust that seemed to be blowing in every direction, and felt her boot step gently upon the squishy surface of this mysterious place.
Given the conditions of the wind, she was extra grateful for her climate suit, although the dust and particles in the air made it difficult to see. She made sure to distance herself from the pod, as Rafael prepped its engines for launch, and she watched it as the thrusters fired—throwing up a new screen of dust and debris for Rain to contend with—and then it was gone, taking Rafael with it. One moment a large metal pod, not unlike a small shuttle, the next a tiny, glowing dot high above, along with an imprint in the soft clay, and nothing more.
So here I am, she thought. Alone. She had never expected to die alone but, in a sense, she supposed all people died alone—for the most part. Even those with family and friends surrounding them, unless they too died simultaneously, then they were there to watch the dying person’s consciousness disappear into the unknown—never to be retrieved again. It was a horrifying thought, but also, in its way, strangely beautiful.
Rain used her gloved hands to help shield her face screen from the dust storm and she spotted the control box; it couldn’t have been more than thirty meters away. She went toward it. Stumbling a bit against the heavy winds and trying to find purchase, step by step, on the rough, heavily-cratered terrain. Eventually, though, she reached it.
It was running, just as suspected. However, the symbols were incomprehensible to her. It didn’t matter though; the setup was straightforward enough. All she had to do was pull back on the spring-loaded activation lever, and then hold it back for as long as she could—hopefully buying the Nighthawk, and Rafael, enough time to escape the trap.
She curled her gloves around the lever and yanked backward with all her might. There was more resistance than she had anticipated, but she managed to pull the lever into the off position and hold it there. The instant she did, the terminal responded, and the graphical interface—despite the alien text—quite clearly showed power levels dropping.
I just have to hold this down. As long as I can. Then the others can go forward with the mission, she thought. And save humanity.
As she held the lever, the windstorm intensified and a large rock flew up into the air and smashed into her helmet. The face-shield absorbed the blow, sparing her from any direct injury, but the force had proven enough to crack the helmet. She looked down at her wrist display and watched as her O2 levels began plummeting.
She was doomed. And if the Nighthawk and Rafael didn’t jump soon, assuming they hadn’t already, then they were doomed too. I tried my best, she reassured he
rself, as she began to feel lightheaded, her grip beginning to slip on the lever.
Before she realized how it had happened, she found herself lying on the ground, staring up at the dust and the stars above. Her vision blanked in and out, and she felt as if she were falling asleep. A sleep from which, she knew, she would never wake.
As she lay dying, breathing in nitrogen and virtually nothing else, she reflected on life and what it meant to her. It had been a good life, she decided, even if, by some standards, hers had been cut short. Even if she’d escaped the planet, she’d only had months left to live. A fact she had made peace with long ago.
I’m truly lucky, she thought, as her consciousness began to fade. She did not know what came next, whether there was some sort of after-existence, or if death truly was the end—the jaws of dark oblivion that awaited every living thing—but even in her uncertainty she knew one thing. And that was that she had been lucky ever to have lived at all. Even though her life had been brief, in the eyes of time, how lucky she truly was, she reflected, that the right events had happened, against all probability, to fertilize the right egg with the right sperm that had resulted in her. It had been quite the honor to be born, rather than being one of the infinite number of people that might have been, but never were. And, going even further, she’d been allowed to live out many years and decades, having gotten to see the galaxy in all its surreal beauty. She’d experienced pain and anguish as sure as she’d experienced delight and happiness, but even the negative emotions had been a privilege of a sort. To have been made of the kind of matter that could feel, and be self-aware, and experience, and not just another apathetic chunk of rock or pile of goo…
Her eyes finally closed for what she knew to be the last time and, as the darkness swallowed her, she smiled. Ever grateful for the life she had been privileged to have.
The Phoenix Requiem (The Phoenix Conspiracy Series Book 7) Page 4