Breaking Point

by David Alastair Hayden

  “I’m guessing that’s bad...”

  “Soon, his brain will burn out, leaving him permanently deficient, or he’ll die from a pseudoaneurysm. At this point, the latter is more likely.”

  “How long do we have?”

  “Minutes, sir. One or two, ten or twenty. I cannot say for certain.”

  From the stricken look on Tamzin’s already beleaguered face, Siv knew her chippy was still active and that she’d heard what Silky said.

  “How long have we been here?”

  “A little more than two minutes, sir.”

  To make it back to real space, Galen would have to survive for eighteen more.

  Tamzin groaned as she stood. “The bandage can wait.” She popped two more pills. “We need to get moving.”

  “Tam,” Galen said, “I really think—”

  “We can deal with my wound once we’re back in real space,” she snapped.

  As she hobbled off, he shrugged in frustration and started walking alongside her. His steps were sluggish, as you’d expect from a man as exhausted as he must be, but his movements were sure.

  "I can't believe I feel this good in wraith space," Galen said, "I must have…" He glanced at Tamzin, frowned, and then looked to Siv who tried to hide the worry from his face. "Ah, this is a bad sign, isn't it?"

  “Yes,” Tamzin whispered hoarsely.

  “My sanity?”

  No one answered.

  He sighed. “I see.”

  Tamzin picked up her pace, guiding them. Judging by her heaving breaths, she was in extreme pain. Siv offered her an arm, but she waved him away. It was just as well, he found his strength waning here. He was tired and bruised up from the ceiling collapsing on them. But it was more mental fatigue than anything. He struggled to keep his mind focused, to tamp down the fears and ignore the disturbing visions and sounds around him.

  “Sir, Tamzin’s vitals are dropping at an alarming rate. She’s losing too much blood.”

  He glanced over and saw not a trail of red behind her but a silvery blue line. Weird. He switched his channel so Tamzin couldn't hear them.

  “Silkster, what do you make of the weird color of her blood?”

  “It’s just wraith space playing with your mind, sir. Her blood’s the same red as yours. You’re handling this remarkably well.”

  “Really? Because I feel like I’m barely holding back the madness. Should I be worried?”

  “You’re not an empath, sir, so you would need many more hours here before there was any danger. I would think you’d be worse off, though.”

  “I guess it has been easier ever since I saw Dad. The wraiths have been more vague, less frightening, less frequent.”

  He started to ask Tamzin how much farther they needed to travel, but from the determined yet tortured grimace on her face, he thought it best not to ask and let her keep pressing on. If they had time left when they got to where they needed to be but before she could jump them back to real space, they could bind her wound then.

  “Silkster, do you have any idea when—”

  A burst of static flickered through his HUD, and Silky was out of commission. Even though Siv knew it was merely an effect of wraith space, a jolt of panic made his heart skip a beat.

  Tamzin collapsed. Siv rushed over, stumbled, and landed hard on his knees beside her. “Do you need…help?” he gasped.

  Galen put a hand on Siv’s shoulder. “I’ve got this.”

  “Are you sure?” Siv asked.

  Galen nodded. “You’ve both done so much for me. Let me carry the weight for a while.” He squatted beside Tamzin and examined her leg. “I really think we need to pull this out.”

  She tried to argue with him but gave up. She popped another pill and drew a bandage from her pack. Siv ripped the metal free in one quick pull, and Galen applied the bandage. The fabric expanded and clung to the wound, melting onto it to form a layer of artificial skin. It would take several minutes for it to bind securely enough to seal an injury that severe.

  “We need to go on,” Tamzin said.

  “You can’t walk on it yet,” Siv said.

  “The stimulant I just took isn’t going to keep me conscious for long.” Her eyes drifted to Galen. “And I do not want to be here for a single second longer than necessary.”

  Galen scooped her up in his arms. “I’ll carry you. Just point the way.”

  Following Tamzin's cues, they continued on until Galen staggered and couldn't keep going. Siv stepped in, and they propped Tamzin up between them so that she could limp along on her good leg.

  Several minutes later, they reached the wraith space equivalent of their rendezvous point with Mitsuki They helped Tamzin sit, and she popped another pill. Her body began to tremble, whether from shock or from all the stimulants she’d taken, Siv didn’t know.

  Eyes fluttering as she tried to stay awake, she checked the mechanical watch on her wrist, a required necessity for someone who delved so much into wraith space. “Just two minutes more.”

  Siv flopped down beside her. As Galen joined them, he bent over suddenly, grabbed his head, and screamed in terrible agony.

  Tamzin turned to him. “Galen…”

  Galen cried, screamed, and rocked back and forth.

  “What should we do?” she asked Siv desperately.

  He shrugged. “I have no idea what to do except get him into real space as soon as possible.”

  They endured Galen's heartbreaking screams, which at least kept Tamzin awake and alert until she triggered the device. Jumping back to Titus II, they made a soft landing in a field of barley.

  Tamzin rolled over to check on Galen. He was still screaming and clutching his head, but as she reached toward him, her hand dropped, and she fell unconscious. The black cube rolled out onto the ground. Tentatively, Siv picked up the device. He expected some sort of reaction, but other than a mild tingle, he got nothing from it. He shrugged and tucked it back into the pouch she kept it in.

  Until Silky booted up, he had no way to call Mitsuki. All he could do was wait and try to calm Galen.

  The triple chime of Silky’s boot sequence sounded just as the troop transport zoomed into view along the horizon. Mitsuki sped to their position and landed. Siv struggled to his feet and gathered Tamzin under the arms, ready to drag her onto the shuttle.

  “I’ve apprised Batwings of the situation, sir.”

  Mitsuki sprinted out to them with a medkit in hand. She slid to her knees in front of Galen. “B doesn’t know what to give him.”

  “Calm and medibots, in that order,” Silky told her.

  While Mitsuki administered the meds, Siv hauled Tamzin onboard and strapped her into one of the crew seats. Then, he staggered outside to help Mitsuki.

  The dose of Calm got Galen to stop yelling and thrashing. He lay sprawled out on the ground, eyes glazed over. The medibots would take several more minutes to really kick in.

  “That’s some seriously watered down sewage,” Silky complained. “How many injectors are in the kit?”

  “Three more.”

  “Give two more to Galen and one to Tamzin. She also needs blood.”

  Mitsuki grabbed the injectors, but Siv shook his head. “Let’s get him onboard first.”

  Together they hauled Galen onboard and settled him in next to Tamzin before administering the remaining medibots.

  While Mitsuki hopped into the pilot seat, Siv connected the IV to Tamzin’s arm and began the transfusion using a bag of synthetic blood. As he finished up, he noticed a third figure slumped in one of the seats. At first, Siv thought he must be hallucinating due to wraith space sickness.

  ”Mits, is there an unconscious pilot in the storage bay?”

  “Oh, yeah,” she responded. “We don't need him. Just slide him down the ramp."

  Siv shook his head and rolled the soldier down the boarding ramp and out into the field.

  As they lifted off, Tamzin stirred. “Galen? Is he… is he okay?”

  “Stable and recoverin
g,” Silky told her. “Another minute and he would’ve been toast.”

  “So he’s going to recover?” Tamzin asked. “Fully?”

  "There may be long-term effects," Silky said. “There’s just no way to say for certain. My guess is nothing debilitating. But that’s just a guess.”

  Tamzin relaxed back into the seat. “Have the Tekk Reapers picked up on Galen’s tracker yet?”

  “They’re storming through the sentry station rubble and scanning the broader area,” Silky replied. “With everything going on and all the aircraft in the area and ships in orbit, my brute-force jamming technique is throwing them off. For now.”

  “Should we fly another circuit casually as if we were part of the government forces?” Mitsuki asked. “Or return to the base and launch out from there?”

  “Burn straight into orbit,” Silky said. “Our best bet is to outrace them.”

  Siv strapped himself into the copilot seat and eyed the circlet. “Need help?”

  “I’ve got this if you need to rest,” Mitsuki said.

  “Good, because I’m exhausted.” Siv yawned. “You know, Silky can fly the ship if you need some rest, too.”

  “No can do, sir. It’s taking all of my processing power to keep the reapers confused. Hardly have any to spare for talking.”

  Silky always had the spare processing power for talking, always, no matter what he was doing.

  “This stupid passive transponder in Galen’s head is a pain in my digital bootyhole,” Silky complained. "I'm doing the best I can by fuzzing them hardcore. You know, if I delivered a copy of the signal response they expect to every military vessel in the region while bouncing an 834 dark signal off thirteen satellites employing…"

  46

  Kyralla Vim

  Oona's eyes flew open. For a heartbeat, Kyralla thought her sister was back. Then her sigh of relief turned into a horrified gasp. A milky white glaze covered Oona's solid black eyes. And wherever she was looking, it wasn’t at Kyralla or anyone else on the bridge of the Outworld Ranger. She seemed to be staring off into another dimension. For all Kyralla knew, that was exactly what her sister was doing.

  "Oona, you've got to slow the ship, or we’ll all die.”

  Oona's reply came as a distant whisper. "All, in the end, is dying."

  Kyralla squeezed her sister's hands. "Oona, sweetheart, we need your help. Please slow the ship."

  The strange eyes focused on her. "All of humanity wants my help. Can I do anything for them? No. It is too much. I am a genetic freak, a failed experiment. Nothing more.”

  “You're my sister, and I love you. Maybe you’re right, maybe you can't save the galaxy. But you can save this ship. You can save me, Siv and Mitsuki, Bishop and Tekeru. And you can save our dad."

  "Daddy…” A tear rolled down her pale cheek. "Yes, of course, I must save Daddy…and the others. I must try.”

  Her eyes darkened as the white film thinned. Her face twisted and sweat beaded her forehead.

  “It’s out of control. I can’t contain the power. I can’t control the flow.”

  Tekeru groaned as he sat up. ”We can't afford to wait for Oona to fix this. We have to do something.”

  "You're right." Bishop leaped to his feet. "Kyra, stay with Oona. We'll do what we can." Bishop glanced about as if confused. "Whatever that might be."

  “We are seven minutes to structural collapse, maybe six…maybe eight,” Rosie said aloud.

  “And approximately five minutes to fusion overload," Artemisia added.

  “Do you have any possible solutions?" Kyralla asked.

  “We have none, madam," Rosie said.

  “I do not have anything either,” Bishop’s chippy Bartimaeus added.

  “How about the three of you start working on some solutions instead of just counting down to our doom," Kyralla snapped. “And why the hell hasn't Silky helped us? Surely he’d know what to do.”

  “He’s trying to help,” Rosie said, “but the ship’s giving off too much interference for him to make a connection.”

  Bishop waved to Kyralla and mouthed, “Focus on her. We’ve got this.”

  Kyralla nodded. “Oona, listen to my voice. Concentrate on slowing the ship. You can do this." The bridge shuddered and screeched. "Hurry.”

  "We need to prioritize," Tekeru said. “What can we fix first that will have the most impact? Reducing our speed?”

  “There’s no atmosphere, so it’s not exactly the speed that’s causing our structural collapse," Bishop said. "It's massive overheating and vibrations from the maxed-out engines. They're burning too far beyond capacity."

  “So we need to manually take the engines off-line,” Tekeru said.

  “Yes, but once they’re off-line we won’t have any way to change our trajectory,” Artemisia said.

  “We have twenty-four minutes until we smack into the planet," Rosie countered. "That's a problem for the future.”

  Less than half an hour wasn’t far enough into the future for Kyralla.

  “Agreed," Artemisia said. “However, taking the engines off-line will leave no way to bleed excess energy from the fusion core. Fusion overload is already our most pressing problem.”

  “Control of the fusion core is completely automated,” Tekeru said. “It’s supposed to shut down at the first sight of a problem. But Oona’s clearly overridden that.”

  “And Octavian already tried the manual shutoff,” Bishop said. “It’s fried.”

  “Sounds like we're royally screwed,” Tekeru said.

  Kyralla sighed. No wonder Oona couldn’t figure out how to save them. She needed to alter all the systems at once, but she had no control over her abilities. Everything she’d done had been out of instinct and fear.

  The ship trembled, and a series of skin-crawling, cog screeches and wails and bleeps echoed over the comm.

  “Is Octavian okay?” Kyralla asked.

  “Lightly damaged and angry,” Bartimaeus answered.

  “What did he say?” Bishop asked.

  “I won’t ruin his dignity by translating that string of rather impolite curses,” Bartimaeus replied. “I can tell you that I don’t think he likes Oona anymore.”

  That was understandable. Octavian loved this ship and orderliness. She noted that Rosie and Artemisia had gone quiet and were letting Bartimaeus, who wasn’t as capable, do more of the mundane work.

  “Oh!” Bishop said. ”Octavian, is there a way to manually control the thrusters?”

  Octavian replied with a series of rapid bleeps that Bartimaeus translated. “You can manually reroute power to the thrusters by accessing a conduit in either the bridge or in engineering. I, however, cannot help. You must do it. I am keeping the ship from falling apart or exploding by manually recycling power surges from one engine to the other."

  “Don’t we have more pressing concerns?” Tekeru asked Bishop.

  “I’m solving the only problem I know how.” Bishop activated his antigrav belt and jumped up. “Besides, if we do find a way to get both the engines and the fusion core offline, it would be good to have a way to slow down and maneuver.”

  Tekeru shrugged. “I guess so.”

  When Bishop reached the ceiling, he pulled a strap from his belt with a metal block attached to the end. He placed the block against a metal beam, and it magnetically locked into place. The strap retracted and held him in place at the right height he needed for work. Clever. She needed one of those and reminded herself to ask him where he got it later, assuming they survived.

  “Oona?” Kyralla said. “Are you still with me?”

  “I’m trying, Kyra, I swear, but I don’t know how to undo what I did.”

  Kyralla smoothed her hands along Oona's face and kissed her bald head. “You can do it. I believe in you. We all do.”

  “Oh no!” Artemisia exclaimed with worry. “The others are in danger. Kaleeb’s infiltrator emerged from hiding. He's ambushed them, and they're under fire. Mitsuki is trying to evade."

  “Damn it,”
Bishop said. “I hate that guy.”

  Kyralla closed her eyes and again prayed for them, feeling stupid and helpless as she did.

  "They’ve been hit!" Rosie shouted. “Hull damaged. Starboard engine destroyed. The shuttle’s leaking fuel, coolant, and atmosphere."

  Kyralla’s breath caught. Her heart skipped.

  "The shuttle's holding together," Artemisia said, "but they've lost their maneuverability. He's got them dead to rights. One shot and they are done."

  "Focus on the here and now, everyone," Tekeru said, “we’ve got our own problems to deal with."

  "Right," Bishop muttered. “We can’t save them until we’ve saved ourselves.”

  Kyralla took a shuddering breath. Oona had said nothing, but she could feel the tension in her delicate frame. "Relax and focus. They'll be okay. I promise." Kyralla removed her hands so her own trembling wouldn't make things worse.

  "It appears the shuttle is heading for a crash-landing on Titus Secundus Sextus," Bartimaeus said. "It's a small, partially terraformed satellite. The atmosphere is breathable. Kaleeb's laser cannon is powered up, but he has yet to take another shot."

  “He’s trying to make contact with us,” Rosie said, “but I can’t figure out the message.”

  “The actual words don't matter," Kyralla said. "We know the intent. He’s using them as bait.”

  "Will he kill them if we don't respond?" Bishop asked. No one answered.

  “Can we send a message?” Kyralla asked.

  “I can send one,” Bartimaeus replied, “but I don't know if it will go through the field of interference around us.”

  "Try," Kyralla said. "Tell him we will negotiate with him if he doesn't hurt them."

  “Message sent," Bartimaeus said. "Perhaps.”

  Bishop dropped to the floor and hurried over to the piloting station. He bent down and popped off an access panel. Sparks flew as he altered wiring connections.

  “Two minutes to critical overload on the fusion core,” Rosie warned.

  “Got it!” Bishop said, slamming the panel shut. The pride on his face flashed and then was gone. He'd solved the least pressing of their problems.