5
It was pretty damned obvious that he wouldn’t get very far.
He was rapidly losing all sensation in his right arm, which hung uselessly at his side, the sleeve of his shirt and jacket already soaked through with blood and he was getting dizzier with each, stumbling step he took.
The blaring sirens all around him didn’t make things much easier.
He needed medical care, a stimulant, or at the very least something, anything to slow the bleeding.
He wasn’t entirely sure how close his pursuers were but he was certain that his very limited choices were between getting shot by the Outlander soldiers on his tail or slowly bleeding to death in the maze of corridors he found himself in.
He stopped and leaned his tired body against the wall to try and catch his breath. The desire to just stay there, maybe even slide down that wall and sit against it, close his eyes for a few moments—the temptation was nearly overwhelming.
But there was that voice inside his head that was equally difficult to ignore. The voice that told him that if he gave in now, that if he closed his eyes, he’d never open them again.
He spotted a door just a few meters ahead. He took one deep breath that caused more pain than it gave him strength, and then pushed himself away from the wall to head toward the door.
It opened as he approached and he found himself inside a storage room. Too small to function as a good hiding spot but with enough containers that perhaps he’d be lucky enough to find some medical supplies.
Luck was not on his side.
The first three containers he opened were filled with machine parts, the fourth had lab coats and safety equipment and the next one he checked was packed to the brim with gold-pressed latinum—he briefly considered how pleased Amaya Donners would have been with such a find before he remembered how utterly useless it was to his current needs—while the last one held a collection of fine china and silver cutlery. Who in their right mind needed so much crockery on a prison outpost in the middle of nowhere, he mused with some frustration.
With limited options, he went back to the crate with the lab coats and began to tear them up and not without difficulty, mostly using his good arm and his feet. He rolled up his shirt and applied makeshift bandages that did little more than soak up more of his blood.
Realizing more was needed, he used additional coats to furnish a makeshift tourniquet to his upper arm, tying it as tightly as possible using his teeth.
Once he was done, he felt weaker than he had before, but once again, he listened to that voice inside of him that refused to shut up and that was determined not to let him die on this godforsaken rock.
He made it back to the doors and froze.
Not too far down the corridor, he could see a group of soldiers investigating something on the floor that look remarkably similar to human blood. His blood.
He heard more voices coming from the other direction and when he turned he was greeted by an entire throng of Outlanders, as well as a few Krellonians. Most of these seemed to be civilians and they were being rushed urgently to a set of wide doors leading outside.
Michael knew he didn’t have much time to make a decision.
He turned back into the room he had come from, grabbed another coat—he found one that came with a hood—it wasn’t a great fit but he figured he didn’t have much of a choice as he slipped it on and then rushed back out of the room.
He hardly even glanced at the soldiers who had picked up his trail. Instead, he focused his entire attention on the mass of people being evacuated and made a beeline for that group, doing his level best to look like he belonged.
It wasn’t terribly difficult since all of them appeared scared and were in a terrible rush to get as far away from this place as they could. He didn’t feel much different.
Blending in was a little more of a challenge.
He didn’t know the races that made up the collective group known as the Outlanders very well, but it was clear he looked nothing like the huge, burly ursine, or the reptilians. The humanoids known as Kridrip—like the former Archjusticar Tenn—were too small and hairless to be easily mistaken for one. Thankfully, as long as he was wearing his coat, he could barely pass as a lupine, at least in general stature, and certainly as a Krellonian, although they made up a very small number. Michael guessed that most of them were prisoners.
The group of civilians and the few guards ushering them along were far too concerned with keeping things moving to pay much attention to racial characteristics or even faces and he quickly pushed himself into the throng to try and merge with it.
He was surprised when it actually seemed to work.
The soldiers behind him had apparently not noticed him, and the many bodies surrounding him had no interest in finding out who he was.
He allowed the crowd to push him forward and right through those wide-open double doors until he found himself outside, in the massive courtyard of the base that had once been the bottom of the quarry.
They were being ushered to a row of landing pads from where shuttles were departing rapidly.
This was his way out.
Or at least he thought as much until he saw the row of soldiers standing between him and his escape route, and these ones were actively scanning the crowd, perhaps even looking for anyone who didn’t belong.
As he got closer, he realized that they were particularly interested in Krellonians and pushing them back, making sure Outlanders got to board the shuttles first.
Ears notwithstanding, he looked a lot more like a Krellonian than any Outlander and would most certainly not stand up to their scrutiny. He needed another way out.
There was a barrier to his left, perhaps three meters high, separating his section of the courtyard from an adjacent one and his procession was moving fairly closely along that wall.
A few meters ahead and a good distance away from the security checkpoint, he could see a gap within that barrier.
He had no idea what would await him on the other side but he understood that it was his best chance.
When the time came and his group passed by the gap, he disentangled himself from the pack and slipped through.
He didn’t know if anyone had noticed but if they had, nobody had said anything, still far more preoccupied to get to those shuttles and the best promise of safety.
There was another, smaller barrier behind the first, about chest-high, and with only one functional arm, he had little choice but to practically tossing himself over the second wall.
He landed badly, right on top of his injured limb and he clenched his teeth as he suppressed the urge to howl in pain.
Ignoring the tears shooting in his eyes, he scrambled back onto his feet and took a few steps forward.
There wasn’t much to see in this section of the courtyard. There certainly were no shuttles here, which was probably why most everybody else in the complex was now on the other side of that wall. There were a few freestanding buildings he guessed were warehouses and from the looks of things, no transporter rooms or other facility that could get him off-planet somehow.
“You cannot be here. This is a restricted area.”
The voice came from right behind him and he cursed himself for not having been more mindful of his surroundings.
Two Outlander guards were approaching him, a green-scaled reptilian, almost a head taller than him, and a vicious-looking lupine who irrationally reminded him of the Big Bad Wolf from the Grimm fairytales his mother had read to him when he had been a child.
“You need to be on the other side of the wall. There is an evacuation order in effect. I know you Krells don’t have ears, but even a deaf one would have noticed,” said the reptilian with a hissing voice that didn’t hide his annoyance.
“Who are you?” asked the lupine as he barred his teeth menacingly. Michael’s hood had pushed back after he had jumped that wall, fully revealing his otherworldliness to these two guards.
Michael would have loved to claim that his next move had been motivated by some sort of tactical initiative, that he had made a mental calculation about whom to target and how, and then executed his plan like the professional he liked to think he was.
In truth, he had acted out of pure instinct and an unwavering will to stay alive.
He had probably picked the reptilian because he had stood closer to him, or perhaps because he seemed like the bigger threat.
Regardless, without delaying another second, he rushed the Outlander with everything he had and not unlike a ballplayer trying to bring down their opponent.
The impact was painful but Michael didn’t let that stop him, instead, he kept pumping those feet to drive the Outlander backward using his momentum.
The soldier wasn’t quite prepared for this and was unable to rebalance himself before Michael drove him hard into the wall.
He heard a sickening crunch as his head impacted against the solid material and Michael could see green blood splatter, some of which hit him in the face.
They both tumbled to the ground but the reptilian didn’t seem to be conscious any longer. There was no time to check.
Driven by nothing more than adrenaline, Michael scrambled back to his feet to bear down on the lupine who was just in the process of freeing his weapon.
He got off a shot but it went wide while Michael went low, tackling the Outlander around the legs and bringing him down.
He pranced on top of the solider, for a moment feeling like the feral animal that the lupine actually resembled, and used his good arm to start pummeling his opponent’s furry face.
But the Outlander was stronger.
He fought off the attack and then struck back, correctly identifying Michael’s weak spot, he went right to the injured arm, tearing the tourniquet in the process and making him scream with pain that thankfully was drowned out by a low-flying shuttle buzzing over their heads.
Michael landed a few more good blows but as it turned out the lupine was similar to the wolf of his childhood in other ways too, including razor-sharp claws that tore at his chest and left deep cuts behind.
Clearly not satisfied with slashing at his opponent with his paws, the lupine unsheathed his knife to finish the job.
The move gave Michael a chance.
By the time the blade was out, Michael had managed to get in position to deflect the blow before the Outlander could fully stab him with it.
At the same time, Michael used the momentary swing of momentum to roll on top of his opponent and then took advantage of his position to drive that knife back down toward its wielder to make it slice into the lupine’s shoulder.
The Outlander howled but unlike Michael’s earlier scream, this sounded more like anger than pain.
Still surprisingly strong, he pushed Michael off of him, before he climbed back onto his feet and reached for the handle of his own blade now buried inside him.
Michael landed in the dirt next to the lupine who had his back toward him now and was only a moment away from freeing his blade and going back onto the offensive.
The injury it had left him with was likely painful, but Michael was certain that this younger, stronger creature would recover from it much faster than he had any chance to.
With a last-ditch effort, he jumped the Outlander again, hooking his good arm around his neck from behind.
The lupine hissed angrily and bucked hard to throw Michael off him.
And if he had focused on just doing that, perhaps he would have succeeded in freeing himself from the weaker human clinging to his back. But since he was trying to remove his blade from his shoulder at the same time, his energies were divided.
Michael took full advantage.
Making sure his opponent’s neck was cradled firmly in the inside of his elbow, he threw all his weight backward, throwing himself down onto the ground and taking the Outlander along for the ride.
Michael landed on his back hard, which was painful enough but made multiple times worse with the lupine landing on top of him.
But he didn’t let go. Instead, he just pushed harder even while the lupine was increasing his effort to free himself from the tight grip he had around his neck.
Michael had no idea where the strength had come from, had no idea it was even still within him, but he applied more and more pressure, bucking his hips to give him better leverage while the Outlander began to claw at the arm cutting off his air supply with both paws.
Michael felt the cuts but he didn’t let go.
A scream of desperation, anger, and pain came over his lips as arched his back as much as it would allow him to.
The lupine’s struggles slowed.
Very slowly at first until he stopped moving altogether.
Michael held on a few more seconds before all energy suddenly drained from his body and he went slack.
Somehow, he managed to crawl out from underneath the lupine’s motionless body, crawled over to the wall, and leaned against it.
His eyes remained focused on the unmoving form of the Outlander.
His own breath was ragged and his heart was seemingly beating a million beats per second. He was covered in sweat and blood, his old wounds reopened and joined by a dozen or so new ones.
That little voice that had kept him going earlier had grown very quiet.
He desperately needed to close his eyes and there was no strength left within him to fight that last overwhelming urge.
And then he gave in to it.
The sensation was pure bliss.
So what if it meant certain death? At that moment it certainly felt worth it. To just sleep, for a minute or forever, it didn’t matter. He just needed to sleep, everything else didn’t seem important anymore. There were others who could save the universe.
The quantum-verse didn’t need Michael Owens to be its savior.
It never had.
And then that voice was back. Suddenly and unexpected and strangely, sounding nothing like his own.
It forced his eyes open again and for a moment he felt immense anger at the interruption.
He was still alone, his only company, two dead Outlanders.
“Captain Owens, do you read me?”
It took him a few more seconds to realize that the voice was coming from his combadge that had miraculously still clung to his otherwise mostly destroyed shirt. Even Tenn and his men hadn’t thought of removing the unfamiliar badge from him earlier.
“Captain, please respond.”
The voice was distant, fighting its way through heavy static as well as his ringing ears, and yet, however distorted, he recognized the speaker.
He lifted his good arm and tapped the badge. “This is Owens.”
“Thank the Divine Symbiont, you’re alive,” Star said.
Michael forced a smirk on his face. “Not by much.”
She clearly didn’t get that. “Sir, I’m extremely relieved to hear your voice. We all are.”
“Trust me, hearing your voice means a lot more to me,” he said with some effort since his lungs were refusing to provide him with all the air he needed. “A whole lot more.”
“I wish I were in a position to deliver some good news but the area you are in is heavily shielded and we cannot beam you out.”
He nodded slowly, mostly for his own benefit. “I know. But you’re a resourceful bunch. I trust you to figure something out,” he said with an odd sense of humor he couldn’t quite account for. Perhaps oxygen starvation.
Star hesitated for a second allowing him to hear only static. He knew it was a bad omen. “There is a Borg armada heading straight for the planet. It will reach orbit in less than five minutes.”
“That certainly explains all the commotion down here,” he said in a voice so weak it barely carried to his own ears.
“Sorry, sir, I didn’t copy your last.”
Michael sat up straighter against the wall, it caused his entire body to rekindle with fiery pain but it also gave him a little bit more strength and allowed him to find his voice again. “Commander, do you have the rest of the away team?”
“Yes, sir,” she said. “We beamed them over from the Lead Belly. Donners wasn’t happy but—“ the rest of her words were drowned out in static. “They are safe.”
“Including my father—I mean, Jon Owens?”
“Yes, sir. We have him.”
“And you have the Exhibitor. You know what you need to do.”
“We cannot just—“
“Commander, remember what we talked about. The mission comes first. Leave me and save the god-damned quantum-verse. I’ll find a way off this rock. Somehow, someway,” he said, although the was rapidly losing conviction in that last statement.
“Understood. There is one other thing you should probably know about the Borg.” Star said something else but the static overwhelmed her voice again until the connection cut out entirely.
Michael glanced up into the sky as if he could somehow spot Eagle in orbit with his naked eye and make sure that Star would follow his orders and take her far away from this place.
