by Mark Tufo
“Any chance you could come back to the room with me? I’m getting lonely in there,” she said before opening her eyes.
“We’re so close to the end; I want to live every moment awake.”
“Come back with me, Mike.” She sat up. “Come back to me.” She had one of my shirts on, was using it as a nightgown. I’d never seen it look better.
“Everything hinges on these next few days.” And on me.
“Maybe the next few days, but not the next few hours.” She stood, letting the blanket fall from her shoulders.
“God, you’re beautiful,” I told her as I hugged her tight.
“I needed to hear that from you, and now I need you to prove it to me.”
“Prove it?” I asked, confused.
“You cannot be that thick.” She headed to the door.
“Gotcha.” I grabbed the blanket and raced to keep up with her.
After a particularly tender night, I slept and I slept, then just to make sure, I slept some more, making up for the three days I’d gone without.
“You do that on purpose?” I asked when I finally got up.
“The crew needed to sleep. I took one for the team.”
“Sleeping with your husband is considered taking one for the team?”
She shrugged.
“I miss Dee,” I told her as I sat on the edge of the bed. She came over and kissed the top of my head as I hugged her tight.
“Me too. That first day I saw you and him, when he was running through that crater with you on his shoulder. I thought about killing you both. Well, definitely him, anyway.”
“Umm wasn’t your mission to save me?”
“Things happen in battle.” She looked down at my upturned face. “But I didn’t. Even if later I thought you had lost your mind by asking us to protect him.”
“Fair enough, because I was pretty sure I’d lost my mind, too. If not for him, I probably would have.”
“Do you think he would have killed you?” she asked as she thought about it.
“No doubt about it. He may have cared for me, somewhat, while we were on the ship, but I think he made it a point to make sure we didn’t become too close. He didn’t want to feel too bad about spilling my guts.”
“That’s generally the basis for all great friendships.”
“You giving me shit, woman?”
“I married a man with beauty and brains! My mother would be so proud.”
“And a libido.” She gave an uncharacteristic giggle as I pulled her down onto the bed and buried my face in her midsection, kissing her wildly there as she squirmed before moving lower. The giggles quickly became a long, soft sigh.
When I walked onto the bridge an hour later, I was, not surprisingly, relaxed. I made sure not to wear a grin or I would catch flak from BT.
“Nice of you to join us,” he said. “There’s only a war to fight.” Flak was hard to avoid.
“I thought I was the uptight one.”
“I’ve been taking on more responsibility since you started your little R and R. Looks like it worked, at least.”
“It helped.”
“Good, because Alken wants to meet.”
“What now? The Progs not getting enough sugar for their coffee?”
“Don’t ask me. He didn’t want to talk to anyone except you.”
“Anything I need to be concerned about?”
“Four guards with him, he’s alone. Been in the conference room for a couple of hours now.”
I smiled. I liked the idea that the Imperial Witness had to wait while the hairless ape got his freak on.
“Mike, don’t go in there smiling like that. Makes you look like you should be playing with crayons, not Armageddon dealing spaceships.”
“You coming?”
“He was very specific.”
“Who gives a fuck. Since when is he running the show?”
“Fair enough.” BT got up and came with me.
“What do you want, Alken?” I asked as I came into the room. He was on the far side.
“I said alone.”
“I don’t really care what you said, you’re not…” I stopped in mid-sentence. Alken was extremely distressed and was displaying all the particular traits. I pushed into BT. “OUT!” I shouted. He got it, he got it real quick. He yanked me just as the charge went off. We were already in flight when the concussive force picked us up and tossed us another twenty feet. I know there were alarms going off but I couldn’t hear a one of them. Good chance I had a concussion as well; when I looked at the blinking red lights there appeared to be more of them than there should have been.
Dust and debris made a choking haze in the air. I tried to get up but realized I didn’t have the equilibrium to do so. It wasn’t long before there were personnel all around; next thing I knew I was on a gurney heading to medical.
“BT?” I choked out, wasn’t sure if it was audible as I couldn’t hear it and the man racing me down the hallway didn’t respond.
I raised a hand up to lightly touch his arm. “BT?” I asked again. He shook his head. I passed out or maybe I died, tough to say. When I awoke the next day in a hospital bed, Tracy was beside me on a chair. She stood when my eyes opened.
“Doc!” She never took her gaze from mine. “Do you know who I am, Mike?”
“Candy striper?” I cracked the joke before reality came crashing down on me. “BT?”
“Getting coffee.”
“Huh?”
“Getting coffee.”
“The guy pushing the gurney shook his head when I asked about BT.”
“The guy pushing the gurney was Captain Fields and my guess is he didn’t know what you were saying. You were rambling incoherently.”
BT came in, he had a small bandage on his chin. “Good to see you,” he said as he handed a mug to Tracy.
“You alright?” I asked.
“Better than you. This is from shaving.” He touched his chin.
“What’s the damage?” I asked before trying to move something that could hurt.
“Well, you survived your first assassination attempt with a cracked rib and a minor concussion plus enough scrapes and bruises for three people,” Tracy said.
I flinched when a Progerian doctor came in. “You sure about this?” I asked Tracy.
“I told him to treat you with the highest regard or every last one of them would join the mutes in their eternal spacewalk. He didn’t seem overly thrilled about it, but he’s in no rush to go outside. He’s a little more about self-preservation than Alken was.”
“Speaking of which?”
“Took a couple of hours to clean the last of him up out of the conference room; the smell is going to take longer,” BT said.
“He was a great Progerian,” the doctor said.
“Yeah, he was a peach. Do what you have to do, then get out of here, doc.”
He topped off my go-go juice; I suffered through the burn of it as it coursed through my system. When the melting feeling within me subsided, I spoke again.
“Never heard of a Progerian doing self-sacrifice to further a cause. We must have them pushed to the edge.”
“This could bode well for us,” Tracy said.
“How does an attempt on my life bode well for us?”
“Bodes well for her,” BT said in a stage whisper, pointing to Tracy.
“Shut up.” She smacked him on the arm. “If he was desperate enough to take himself out hoping to take you with him, it means he was worried.”
“You think he really thought we could win?” I sat up much quicker than I should have. If I thought the alien juice burned, it had nothing on the aches and pains that vibrated throughout my entire being. “If he thought that, then chances are there are others aboard who think that way as well,” I said once I was able to wrestle the pain down into a manageable level.
“Already taken care of. We have all of the Progerians on board collected in hangar bay seven.”
“They fit?” I asked.
“It’s not exactly a five-star resort, but they’re all in there. And I’ll tell you, the more they look at the hangar doors the more compliant they become,” Tracy said.
“Might be able to get them to fight on our side in another hour or so,” BT said.
“Yeah, pass. How long was I out?”
“The attack was yesterday morning.” Tracy looked up to BT.
“Holy shit! We’re forty-eight hours away from Aradinia? How much longer until I can get out of this bed?”
“The doctor said three days,” BT said.
“How convenient. Help me up.”
“Thought you might say that. I brought your uniform.”
“BT, you’re going to have to leave.” He looked at me questioningly. “Unless you want to help me get dressed.”
“I’m sorry, Mike.” He turned away, but stayed.
“Sorry you don’t want to help me get dressed?”
Tracy took off the hospital scrubs top I was wearing. My chest, stomach, and presumably my back were a lattice work of old and new scars completely mottled in deep purples, angry reds, melancholy blues, and even some robust yellows. Picasso would have killed for that palette. I winced as I put my hands over my head so she could get my undershirt on.
“I’m sorry I didn’t get you out of that room faster. Save you from getting your delicate ass all beat up.”
“You sounded so sincere for a sec.” I almost had to sit down when my wife’s hand accidentally brushed up against my “bad side” as she pulled the shirt down.
“I’m serious. I feel awful.”
“BT, I’m pretty sure you saved my life. If not for you pulling me out of there I would probably be pureed with Alken. Sure, someday you’re going to regret that decision, but personally, I thank you.”
“As do I,” Tracy told him. “Now, unless you want to see or hear things you can’t ever unravel, I suggest you leave.” She had untied the drawstring on my pajama pants. BT exited maybe faster than he had the conference room.
“Do you think he saved me?” I asked.
“Watched the playback a hundred times; tough to tell. He did grab you and pull you away but you were already on the move. How did you know?”
“I didn’t know he had a bomb, but I knew he had something. Figured maybe a gun, at least. His mouth was opened in that classic stress way of theirs. He seemed a bit twitchy as well, not that dignified, arrogant way he usually carried himself.”
“Progs are a lot of things, don’t think I’ve ever seen one ‘twitchy.’” She had pulled my pants down. “Lift a leg so I can get this off.”
“Not a chance,” I told her. “The lifting a leg part, I mean.”
She rifled through a bunch of drawers until she got a pair of scissors so she could cut them off. “Not going to look good that the commander leading us into battle can’t even put his own pants on. You sure you don’t want to spend a few more hours in bed? Let the medicine kick in a little bit more?”
“I think it’s more important that people see me up and about.”
“You’re holding on to a hospital gurney and can’t lift your legs. I’m not sure what your definition of ‘up and about’ is.”
“Just get my pants on, woman. I’m starting to get cold.” I sat back down so I could get my feet off the floor.
Tracy did her best to not jostle me around as she pulled clothes on, but I think people in Medieval Europe were tortured less when they were tried as witches.
“You clean up nice.” She placed my hat upon my head–thought my head was going to explode when she did that. Got a healthy dose of vertigo to go along with the pain.
“I hate when you’re right. I’m referring to staying in bed.”
“I know. Let’s go.”
I felt better by the time we walked onto the bridge, not perfect, but better. Most parts that were supposed to bend, for the most part, did, and with only a modicum of lip-biting pain.
“Attention on deck!” Captain Fields said as Tracy smoothly let go of my hand and slid to the side so it appeared that I was making my own locomotion. I looked at my command seat; it appeared to be a mile and a half off in the distance. The crew stood immediately; there was a small burst of applause and a low whistle.
“Thank you.” I wanted to raise my hand to tell them to stop, but that didn’t seem like a prudent idea at the moment. The wincing might not go over so well.
“Colonel Talbot, I would like to discuss something with you.” I looked pleadingly over at her.
She rushed in and we moved as a team over to my chair. Only a small stone or a coconut laden swallow wouldn’t have recognized the ploy for what it was. I took a few moments to gather myself. The process of sitting had nearly taken out of me all that I had left.
“Status?” was about all I could manage to ask.
“All systems operating within acceptable ranges. Weapons are fully stocked and armed. The Progerians are on lockdown and we are T-minus thirty-nine hours and counting.” Fields relayed.
“Thank you, Captain.”
“Ah…sir, it’s good to have you back, but we could have had this covered for another day.”
“I look that bad?”
“Just look uncomfortable, sir.”
“Look at you being all diplomatic. Trying to hold on to your next promotion?”
“Good to have you back, sir.” He smiled.
“Go get some sleep, Fields. Gonna need you back here in a little while. It’ll be all hands on deck tomorrow.”
“Yes, sir.” He nodded to Tracy before he left.
“Crazy ass cracker actually came to the bridge.” BT was shaking his head from the entrance.
“So much for military decorum. You going to be alright? I’d like to go sit at the controls,” my wife said.
“I will, and thank you, and–oh hey–no sudden turns.” I gingerly touched my ribs.
“Well, since BT already blew it.” Tracy leaned down and gently kissed my lips.
“What did I blow?” BT asked as he sat down next to me.
“Beats me. Seems like something you should know, though.”
“If you weren’t already busted up, Talbot, I’d make you my own personal Stretch Armstrong. Pull your arms out so far you could scratch your own belly.”
“What the fuck does that mean? I already can do that.”
“Not from the inside.”
I let that one sink in for a second before it dawned on me what that would look like. “That’s just sick, man.”
BT shrugged. “Should I even ask what the plan is? Or is it a ‘we’ll see when we get there’ type of scenario?”
“Plans are for over-thinkers.”
“Probably safe to say you’ve never been accused of that.”
“You figure you can’t beat me up physically so you’re going to take a few verbal shots?”
“Oh, don’t go telling me your delicate ego is getting bruised.”
“I’m a very sensitive individual.”
“Right.” I knew he was thinking up some examples to let me know just how insensitive I was when Beckert spared me from the barb.
“L.T.,” BT said, knowing the other man despised his promotion.
“I asked you not to call me that. I earned my Master Sergeant rank; it was given respect. Being a lieutenant makes me sound like a snot nosed kid out of Annapolis.”
“Don’t listen to him, Lieutenant. He’s just mad the cafeteria ran out of his Sugar Smacks cereal,” I said.
Beckert sighed. “Sometimes I don’t know what to think about this bridge. It is easily the least disciplined one I have ever been on. On the other hand, the results are unprecedented. It doesn’t make it easy to reconcile in my head.”
“We’re serious when we need to be, Beckert, and I’d rather smile a little when I can. Time is short at best, and becomes a very precious commodity in times of war. If I’m not actively engaged with the enemy, I’d rather be sharing a laugh.”
“I get that, sir. Just not m
any could pull it off, I suppose.”
“What can I help you with, L.T.?” I asked. BT and I fist bumped.
“Wonder kid is at it again.”
“Private, I mean Corporal Pender?”
“Who else? He’s been programming the computer and running all sorts of simulations. He thinks he can make this ship skip.”
“I’m taking it he sent you up here so that you could explain it in a dumbed-down version…for BT, I mean,” I said.
“Cold, man. Cold,” BT answered. “But overdue.”
“Got to admit, sir, he had to dumb it down for me. Pender started throwing terms around I think he had to invent for what he’s doing.”
“Let’s hear it.”
“You ever see some of them great running backs in football, the kind that can seemingly stop on a dime? You know, be at a full sprint, plant their left foot and then bound laterally off to the right? Pender says he can do that. I mean, the ship can.”
“Wait, say that again.” I sat up straighter even though it caused considerable pain. I mostly ignored it.
“He says he can make this ship look like it’s going one way and then suddenly bound off to the side.”
“Only when it’s coming out of a buckle? Or any time? That’s a pretty important distinction, and I’m going to need to know,” I told him.
“Like I said, sir, he’s been throwing so many technical terms at me I’m not sure I fully grasp what he’s saying.”
“Then I don’t feel too bad. Talbot, what’s this mean?” BT asked.
“The implications could be huge if he can pull this off. The bouncing to the side, Beckert, did he give distances?”
“He said up to one second at the speed of light. Though he thinks it can be modulated to any given distance.”