Fallen Heroes - Book 2 of 2 - Chapter 4d
Lieutenant Tony Blue pushes the two rubber curtains forming an entrance to sickbay aside and enters the lowly lit hallway, which stretches beyond the next corner. Expanded to 300% its original size, sickbay these days consists of a network of corridors and rooms, a research facility disturbingly similar to the Altonoid laboratories they scour for intel. One cannot roam four feet without bumping into a container and its horrific contents: S’Prenn specimens, most of them dead. Some are alive, insane, and attacking their transparent aluminum cages, which cannot be broken by S’Prenn fangs and claws, though he gives them a wide berth nonetheless. Instinctively, he hovers a hand over his phaser holster.
Tony suspects the S’Prenn carcasses and live subjects outnumber the ship’s current complement of 386 souls. A quick calculation confirms the
Achilles’ journey into their former territory has claimed the lives of thirty-four crewmembers so far—a humbling statistic.
He steps over thick cables and medical equipment, which are difficult to spot in the dark. A combination of traveling under cloak and S’Prenn skin photosensitivity renders these innards of the
Achilles spookier than they already are with the lights on.
The corridor opens up into an equally dark chamber that used to be the entire sickbay instead of its locus. Wires and tubes crisscross the floor, and an acidic odor summons harrowing memories of the S’Prenn wreckage. Off to the right lies Lieutenant Commander Jeremy Gibbs partly covered in blankets on the only biobed not occupied by containers of decaying or convulsing arachnids. Staring at the ceiling, Gibbs grinds his teeth. His eyes and cheeks are sunken. What do you say to someone in this bad a shape? Tony approaches his debilitated colleague and settles for, “How are you holding up, Commander?”
With his mottled skin and thinning blond hair, his weakened condition, and in this unfavorable lighting, Gibbs seems sixty-eight instead of forty-eight years old. “I still can’t move.”
Tony takes a knee beside the biobed. “I’m sorry to hear that.” For a man this bent on exercise and martial arts training, being cursed with a quadriplegic state has to be gut-wrenching.
“I hate this place.”
“It gives me the heebie-jeebies too, but we have to find the cure. Or at least that’s what I keep telling myself whenever I’m down here.”
“I hate this ceiling.”
“Doctor Kingsley insists your paralysis is temporary.”
“I’m done waiting.” He is blinking rapidly, one of the few means at his disposal to vent his frustration. “My team needs me.”
“Yes, they do, but Josh is doing well leading security until you’re back in the saddle.”
“He’s a good officer.”
Tony musters a smile and pats Gibbs on the shoulder. “Learned from the best.”
From the dark recesses of this sickbay of horrors, Doctor Chris Kingsley emerges. His ragged appearance matches his working environment; black S’Prenn blood splatters stain his uniform. He places a tray of used medical devices atop an adjacent container. “Speaking of the best, here I am.” He sounds tired. “I’m sorry neither of you like the scenery. I admit it is not for the fainthearted. It’s… an acquired taste.”
Neither Gibbs nor Tony have anything to add to the doctor’s observations.
“I have news regarding your condition.”
“I was just leaving,” Tony says out of politeness.
“No,” Gibbs says, nearly begs. “Please stay.”
“Suit yourself,” Kingsley says. “Judging from your spinal cord’s current state and your treatment response, I expect you to walk again in two or three months. A full recovery is the most probable outcome.”
Gibbs lets out a mighty groan, a mixture of relief over regaining his mobility and dread over having to extend his stay.
The doctor stares at the floor and shuffles his feet. “I have… an alternative, a way of expediting your recovery.”
“Let’s hear it,” Gibbs says.
“I propose attaching a limb- and headless S’Prenn to your neck. It won’t try to assert dominance, because its higher brain functions have ceased, but its adaptive biology would seek to control and repair your nervous system. You would be able to walk and use your arms within an hour, maybe faster. I speculate the repairs will become permanent after a month. Then it might be possible to surgically remove the S’Prenn.”
A beat of silence. “Are you out of your mind?” Gibbs replies. “Get away from me!”
Kingsley ignores the outburst and stares coldly at his patient.
“I’m sick of this place! I’m sick of all this!” Spittle builds up in the corners of Gibbs’ mouth. “I’m sick of you!” Hyperventilation and saliva threaten to choke him.
Kingsley collects a hypospray from a utility cart and presses its rounded tip against the security chief’s corded neck.
As the sedation takes rapid effect, and before losing consciousness, Gibbs looks Tony straight in the eye and asks, “What have we become?”
The patient goes quiet, bringing the pumping and whirring of medical equipment and the thrashing of captured S’Prenn to the foreground.
“I think he wants a second opinion,” Tony says, having no idea what else to say. “I’m guessing the disfigured S’Prenn treatment is off the table.”
Kingsley shrugs. “It’s up to him.” He picks up his tray and disappears halfway into the darkness.
“He’s not wrong,” Tony says after him. “What
have we become?”
Kingsley’s silhouette lowers its head. “Purveyors of necessary evil.” Reluctantly, he turns around. “We lost Nurse Durand this morning. She’d stumbled across a chemical alteration that made the bioweapon transmittable to humans. Before she realized what she’d done…” He pinches the bridge of his nose and sighs. “It’s safe now. We’ve disinfected her corpse and the wing she was working in, and I suppose we could consider it somewhat of a breakthrough, but damn… If we don’t find that cure soon, I don’t know what I’ll do.”
Another death, which increases the death tally to thirty-five. “You will go on,” Tony says, “like the rest of us. We must. Everything depends on us.”
The doctor dips his chin and walks off.
Alone with Gibbs, Tony runs a hand over the injured man’s scalp. “Stay strong, Jeremy. We need you.”
* * *
Lieutenant Commander Jon Terrell is in his comfort zone, tucked away in an alcove in main engineering, tinkering with the secondary impulse manifold’s settings to improve its capabilities. A smart idea, given how the incremental damage the primary manifolds sustained could endanger them during battle. And there will be a next battle. So here he is, ensconced up-side-down underneath the impulse control terminal on engineering’s upper level.
Someone blocks his light and says, “There you are.”
Terrell clambers out to be met by Lieutenant Tony Blue, who extends a hand to help him to his feet. Terrell graciously accepts. The chief engineer has pulled an all-nighter once again and his muscles are upgrading their silent protest to nagging pain.
“Sorry to interrupt,” Tony says. “You must have the busiest job on the ship.”
“I’m never bored.” He maintains an optimistic tone despite engineering’s shoddy state. “Whenever we fix something, there are plenty of Altonoids willing to field-test it without delay. They’re nice like that.”
“Don’t make me feel guilty about stealing their data.”
Terrell chuckles. “Those floor plans we nicked are marvelous. We’re studying them now. The files even include a complete set of floor plans for Station A-12! If you think our sickbay is scary, you should have a peek at those. The Altonoids have turned it into a horrorfest.”
“I’m good. I have a different reason for—”
“Wait. You have green on you.” Terrell removes a blade of grass from Tony’s jacket.
“I went meditating with Surtak. Don’t ask.”
“I won’t. You’re here for your own slice of Terrell tech. Follow me.”
They ride an elevator to the lower level, where Terrell opens an inconspicuous drawer and retrieves a seemingly standard-issue tricorder. He flips the tricorder to show its padding has a small recess in its center, housing an emergency transport unit.
“Exactly as I asked. Thanks, man.” Tony switches his regular tricorder for the prototype. “These transport units saved our hides back at Altor Seta.”
Terrell grins. “I wish I could take all the credit, but I simply boosted their energy storage so they can be used twice. Oh, I also made them configurable by tricorder. It’s best to keep the unit paired with your custom-built one.”
Tony taps a finger against the new tricorder in his holster. “I’m pushing the captain to make these mandatory for away teams.”
“As if I’m not busy enough as it is,” Terrell jokes and then adds in a conspiring tone, “That next away mission may happen sooner than you think. The Altor Seta intel did not only include floor plans…”
“
Senior officers,” Captain Rinckes announces over the comm, “
report to the observation lounge at once.”
“Spoiler alert,” Terrell says. “It’s bound to be good news.”
“Really?”
“Let’s go and find out.”
* * *
Resembling two excited kids preparing for show-and-tell, Lieutenants Ernest Baxter and Kels are standing on either side of the observation lounge’s monitor. Projected on it is a far-off region of space with a highlighted anomaly in the top-left corner.
“Our extensive analyses confirm it beyond the shadow of a doubt,” Kels says. “Cross-referencing S’Prenn, Altonoid, and Loïdian databases has provided us with conclusive proof of a S’Prenn navigational portal’s existence in the Aragos Sector.”
“Stellar cartography corroborates our suspicions,” Baxter says.
There is an unspoken consensus among the senior staff, communicated solely through an electric mix of fear and excitement. A discovery this remarkable cannot be dismissed. From his usual spot at the head of the table, Captain Stephan Rinckes contemplates these findings. Commander Erin Crow and Lieutenant Commander Jon Terrell flank him. Terrell is seated in the chair usually reserved for Doctor Kingsley, but the doctor has excused himself from this conference for understandable reasons.
“This portal,” Kels says, “is virtually identical to the one near Station A-12, making it a potential goldmine of information regarding the cure.”
Lieutenant Tony Blue, seated next to Terrell, clears his throat. “Do we know where the portal leads?”
“We don’t,” Baxter says.
“Are the Altonoids aware of this portal?” Crow asks, frowning.
“Unknown, Commander,” Kels says. “The portal is either as yet undiscovered by the Altonoids, or…” Her antennae droop slightly. “We cannot discard the possibility of it being a trap to catch stray S’Prenn vessels… or perhaps even us.”
“The Altonoids have been increasing their efforts to catch us,” Crow remarks.
Seated opposite Tony, Lieutenant Surtak leans forward. “I advise caution. There are too many variables.”
Rinckes folds his hands on the tabletop. “Agreed. Terrell, is this ship ready for battle?”
“Ready as she’ll ever be, Captain.”
“Blue, I want you to schedule and perform frequent tactical drills until we reach the Aragos Sector.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Donahue, the same goes for security drills.”
“Consider it done, Captain.” Lieutenant Junior Grade Josh Donahue sits farthest away from him—out of modesty, the captain hopes, not timidity. The acting security chief encounters far more intimidating creatures than his fellow senior officers in his line of work.
Rinckes allows himself a moment to look at his people. “What we have accomplished out here on our own is beyond exemplary. Each and every one of you can be proud of the tenacity and bravery we invested in achieving our goals. We are not out of the woods yet, but I can think of no ship and crew I would trust more to continue our mission than the
Achilles and her beating heart of heroic men and women.” He rises from his chair. “To your stations, everyone. Baxter, lay in a course for the anomaly, warp 8.”
His subordinates clear the room, leaving the captain to study the windows, which boast an excellent view of the
Achilles’ sleek stern. She is invisible from any vantage point outside her cloaking field. It hides them, keeps them safe, and prevents the enemy from seeing her weakened ablative armor, the numerous flickering internal and external lights, and the crevasses of deep phaser scars tracing her battered hull.
Yet, somehow, her engines flash and she goes to high warp to carry them across the stars and toward their destiny.
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Author's note: After many months I finally have no headstart left. I'm currently working hard to write and edit the next chapters. Chapter 5 will be released Friday, June 7th. Save the date
