“Now, there’s gonna be an alarm, and you don’t want to look at the blue light that follows. If you do, you won’t be able to see shit for about half an hour. The tinting helps, but it ain’t foolproof.” She laughs. “Learned that the hard way.”
One of the grumbling machines gives a high-pitched whine that fades away.
My fingers suddenly feel cold.
A moment later, the seizure hits.
The pressure in my knuckles comes upon me instantaneously. Tremors shake my arms. One of my boots scuffs the tile floor. My inhal and exhal pips sputter. Tightness squeezes my chest. Light sparkles across my vision.
No! Not– NO!
I have time to sink to my knees before my eyelids squeeze together all on their own. I’m pretty sure my body pitches to one side. I don’t feel myself hit the floor. There’s a wave of heat, a sensation of choking, then the falling.
The falling…
It lasts a few heartbeats. It lasts forever. The first thing I know when it releases me is the taste of blood in my mouth. I must’ve fallen hard, split a lip, maybe bit my tongue. I’ve done that before.
The second thing I know is I’ve soiled myself. Just piss, and not a lot–thankfully I used the refresher in my room before starting out. I think my diaper’s caught it all. I groan. My body shudders.
Something nudges me in the shoulder.
As awareness sweeps over me, I realize I’m lying on my side, one arm above my head, my snout on the cold tile floor. My knees are drawn close to my chest. My other arm drapes across them.
There’s another, harder nudge to my shoulder. Then a man says, “You still alive? You looked all dead.”
It’s an unfamiliar voice. Human. Strong. Sounds kinda like Mr. Tremp. But more... assertive.
I open my eyes. They water in the bright light. Blinking doesn’t help. I swallow, taste more blood. Another groan, then the numbness leaves my limbs. They hurt, though, burning in my elbows and wrists, knees and ankles. Not so much, and fading, but still enough for me to chuff involuntarily.
“You need help sitting up?” Strong hands grab me beneath my shoulders. I’m straightened, then nudged back to lean against a wall behind me. He sniffs, loud in the silence. “Cruks, man, you pee yourself?”
I keep blinking until the shape in front of me resolves. It’s the human, crouching before me, studying me. In his right hand he holds a slender light-blue pistol.
“I’m– I’m all right,” I say. My gaze remains locked on the weapon. Something–a faint smell in the air–tells me he’s used it recently. “Just a seizure. I have them now and then.”
He grunts. “Too bad for you, brother. Saw a lot of that in my time. Rough stuff.”
His tone is gentle. Almost like he means me no harm. I lift my gaze from his weapon, and meet his. He has the darkest blue eyes I’ve seen on a human.
There’s a groan to my left. Sounds like Cousin.
Unable to help myself I look. Cousin’s curled on her side, in a puddle of blood.
“Don’t worry about her,” the human says. He’s looking too, then returns his attention to me. “She’ll join the other two soon enough.” He wiggles his weapon. “I don’t suppose you can tell me the date now, could you?”
His question tumbles through my mind. I realize I’m not entirely sure of myself. “It’ll be on my plate. In my pocket.”
“You saying you don’t know the date?”
“I, uh, been a little busy. Lost track of time.”
“Well, do you think you can tell me where we are?”
“Chalico station. Some sort of research and development lab.”
His eyebrows raise, and he looks around. “Oh yeah. It does kinda look familiar.”
“Used to work here or something?”
He laughs. “Nope. Just helped myself to some of their equipment. Something like what’s in the chamber behind me. Only more... portable.”
I try to make sense of his words. “The equipment that froze you?”
“Froze me?” He shrugs. “They call it deanimation. And reanimation. Something to do with Tatum reactors.”
“Tatum. She mentioned she had to power up a micro-Tatum. That what they use? I thought they were only used to launch vessels into darkspace.”
He laughs again. “Them brainiac Sha-Ho and their little human pups seem to come up with something new every decade or so. I think this may be their latest invention.”
I wipe my chin. The blood comes from a gash between the smaller scales, and has slowed to a trickle. Some pressure and it’ll stop completely. “We found you on your outpost.”
“My outpost? You mean my asteroid?”
I nod.
“Any chance you find anyone else?”
“Everything was destroyed. Inside and out. Saw signs of arms fire. Locks and hatches jammed open.”
“Hmph.” His expression darkens, forehead wrinkling, eyelids near-closing, cheeks bulging, lips pursed. He inhales, exhales, relaxes. “What were you doing there?”
“Salvaging the micro-core components in the reactors. They’re worth a lot.”
He studies me. “So I’m it? The only one who survived?”
I swallow. My hearts thump hard. “You’re Black Diamond, aren’t you? One of them?”
His expression darkens again. He shifts so his weapon slants my way. Not pointing at me directly, but close. “I don’t think you want to be asking those kind of questions. Not yet, anyway.”
“Never mind I asked. Don’t really need to know.”
“I’ll cut you some slack. Your little seizure here help me get the drop on these three clowns. But my debt to you ain’t as deep as you think.” He looks around, his gaze lingering on the large hatch. “Gonna need a key to get through that sucker.”
“It’s around her neck.” I waggle a finger at Cousin, who’s stopped breathing now. “On a chain around her neck. She also had to enter a number onto a keypad.”
“We won’t need the number to get out. That’s just to keep unauthorized people from getting in.” He levels his gaze back on me. “We should probably think about leaving. We don’t want to be here when station security comes wandering by.”
“That would be a bad thing. There’re a lot of questions I don’t want to answer.”
“I don’t suppose you can show me the way to a shuttle bay.”
“Actually I might. The people with me, they ran a pretty busy repair shop. Lots of vessels.”
He grunts. “You’re willing to help me? Could be trouble for you if you do.”
“I think it’ll be a lot more trouble if I don’t.”
“We may have to leave pretty fast.”
I think for a moment, then realize, “There’s nothing for me here. I was just visiting. I could go with you, if you don’t mind the smell.”
“Smelled worse.” He stands, extends his free hand. I take it, and rise to my feet. He reaches behind himself with both hands, raises the bottom hem of his workjacket. His hands are empty when he brings them back in front.
Must have a holster back there. Leader never thought to look? Then again, I wouldn't have.
He says, “So, all we need now is to find a pilot.”
And at that, a warmth erupts from my chest, I stand tall, and smile.
Acknowledgments
Writing a novel is not a solo affair, despite what might be portrayed in the various visual arts. It takes a lot of work by a single individual, yes, but that’s part of a collaboration of great people striving to bring to reality another’s vision.
I would like to extend my deepest appreciation to the wonderful critiquers at The Next Big Writer for their suggestions, tips, and comments in helping make this revision a satisfying endeavor. They include (listed by screen names): kdot, ray ashton, SC Hughes, reaganwyatt, alkemi, S.L. Garber-Ortiz, Duncan.A.Jackson, and NJ Figueroa. My pardons if I’ve left anyone off the list; any oversight was unintentional.
For help in writing your own stories, visit:
www.
thenextbigwriter.com
About the Author
Charles Brass works as an imaging technologist in the small town hospital where he lives, some thirty miles west of Minnesota’s Twin Cities. Writing has been his passion for more than twenty years. Writing well has always been his dream.
To see more works by Charles Brass or sign up for his newsletter, visit his page:
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He can also be reached via email at [email protected].
Charles is currently at work on his next project.
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