Dangerous Evolution (16 page)

“Aren’t you the optimist?” I chuckled.

“In this line of work, it’s necessary; unless you want to lose
your mind.”

“You’re right about that,” I agreed, unsuccessfully fighting a
yawn. “I’m going to grab a couple hours of sleep; you should probably do the
same. No telling what situation we’ll find ourselves in when we reach The
Verge.”

Stinson’s eyebrows shot up. “What? And leave ourselves in the
hands of Del and the good doctor? I’m surprised.”

“Well,” I said, gesturing at the Sentients, “Doctor Sa doesn’t
strike me as the soldierly type, if you know what I mean, and Del has had ample
opportunity to kill us by now, if he wanted to. I think we’re okay.”

Stinson grabbed a small, wing shaped shelf on the wall and started
pulling himself up. I could tell by the look on his face that something else
was troubling him.

“About Mendoza, Commander…it’s not your fault. She’s my crewman; my
responsibility.” He stretched his legs, then reached down to pull me up. “I
have to admit, I barely know her myself. She only recently transferred to the
Babylon
—but
she’s already proven herself in my book.”

“Mine as well, Jeff, but you’re wrong about one thing; this is
my
mission. I’m calling the shots, and I alone am responsible. I promise you this;
we will do everything we can to get Mendoza back…alive.”

I told Del to wake us if anything important happened, then we
walked to the small room where Val was still sleeping—managing to sneak inside
without waking her up. Stinson quietly balled up his Kamo jacket into a crude pillow,
then grabbed an empty spot on the floor, dozing right off. The ability to sleep
anywhere, at any time, was one that most active-duty military developed quickly—I
couldn’t help but be envious.

I was dead tired, but couldn’t still the racing thoughts keeping
me awake. Humanity on the brink of war—the complete extermination, through war
and disease, of all known sentient life in the galaxy; it was all just too much
put aside easily.

Staring at the black ceiling, unable to empty my mind, I looked over
to see Val Evans curled up in the fetal position—her improvised bedding
clutched tightly. Now that my eyes had adjusted to the darkness, I could get a good
look at her—even covered in grime and dirt, she was beautiful. But there was
more to her than that, I realized, she had something else—something special.

She was so different from my wife, in both appearance and
demeanor, but for the first time since Natasha’s death, I was truly attracted
to someone. I was attracted to
her
.

What an absurd time to consider such nonsense
, I
thought. But there was no denying the truth. Even though we’d only spoken briefly
in the hangar, I knew I felt…something. There was a definite connection. Val
and I had a mutual if divergent history, a common background that so few
shared. We were two of the first, two of the oldest humans in the galaxy.

Maybe that was it, or maybe it was simply chemistry, I really didn’t
know. But I knew I wanted to get to know her better, and for that, I felt a deep
sense of betrayal. In my mind, I could picture my life with Tasha as if it were
only yesterday, not 114 years ago.

Natasha had been a short, active woman, with dark hair and an
overabundance of energy. She loved nature and had a perpetual tan. In those
days, we were always outside; hiking through the hills, playing different
sports, or going to the beach.
Everyone
was outside; El Ferras had been
so beautiful then…

Tasha’s energy and drive were as legendary as her cooking was bad,
and it was always difficult for me to keep up with her—much to
her
amusement. As a shuttle pilot, she was naturally the adventurous sort, and prized
her flying time above everything else. She’d even started to play the piano
when the war started, but never got the chance to get very good at it.  

In almost every way, she was the woman of my dreams, and the
complete opposite of Val Evans.

Despite her fame, Val Evans wasn’t an extrovert. She was more
withdrawn, shy even—but she wasn’t weak. My mission briefing revealed a woman
strong in her conviction to help others—both through her scientific work and
altruistic enterprises. She was a sincere, decent person, with a big heart—often
worn on her sleeve.

According to Breth, her sister loved to garden, but it was obvious
that Val spent most of her time indoors working in the lab. Her skin color
spoke volumes about how much she’d avoided the dome’s artificial sunlight—it was
like flawless ivory. Her body wasn’t muscular, but it was long, lean, and fit;
in all, it was a beautiful combination of features.

I tried to focus in on reality, smart enough to wonder how much of
my emotional reaction came from my current position as ‘Rescuer-in-Chief’, and
how much of it was genuine affection. Was I just naturally feeling protective
and responsible for her, or was there really something more there?

Maybe I was just exhausted to the point of temporary insanity.

This was
not
the proper venue for such foolish, romantic speculation.
We were on the wrong side of The Verge in a Sentient ship, and in the next few
days, we could all very well wind up dead. Besides, who knew how
she
felt? Or if she felt anything at all. She was a traumatized crime victim, and I
was sitting here playing fantasy-future in my mind, like some love smitten
teenager.

Lovely.

I needed to clear my head of this frivolity and get it screwed
back on tight. Deciding that checking on Mendoza would be a good first step; I
rose and carefully slipped out the door.

As soon as I entered the infirmary, I knew that something was
wrong. Through the clear top of the stasis chamber, I noticed that Mendoza’s pressure
bandage was gone. The abdominal wound now covered by a hard, green, scab-like
substance. She was also as white as a ghost. I slid my headset up and keyed the
earpiece, already tied into the ship’s com system. “Del, I’m in the infirmary.
Please come here immediately.”

It took less than two minutes for the Sentient to arrive. “What is
it?” Del asked, walking over to the stasis chamber to check the readings.

“I think her wound is infected. There is a green fibrous substance
forming over it—she’s also lost a lot of her color.”

Del moved to a second monitoring station and waved its hand over
the input device.  The display’s colors shifted from yellow to deep purple, and
flashing symbols flew across the screen. The Sentient looked, well…perplexed.

“She is stable,” it said finally, “as stable as possible under
these conditions. The pod provided the membrane as a therapeutic intervention.”

“It’s healing her?” I asked.

“No. It was designed to heal Sentients, so it is…improvising.” Del
seemed genuinely surprised by the chamber’s actions. “The pod isn’t designed
for human biology, so it can’t repair the damage. It has, however, found a way
to better ensure her survival by adding the membrane.”

“What about her skin color?”

“She’s lost a lot of blood, but the pod doesn’t have the capability
to manufacture more, not human blood anyway. The machine is doing all it can,
but because she isn’t a Sentient, it can’t completely freeze body functions and
provide a true stasis. All it can do is slow things down. She needs surgery.”

“What about a blood transfusion from one of us?” I asked.

“I don’t think we should take her out of stasis—even for that. She
will start bleeding as soon as I turn off the field. It may well prove fatal.”

“If it becomes necessary—if her condition worsens—it’s a risk we’ll
have to take. I’m sure Dr. Evans could make it happen,” I said.

“I will let you know if the situation gets
that
desperate,
Commander.”

“Thanks.”

I looked at Mendoza laying there, her gaunt form walking the thin
line separating life from death, and I felt the weight of responsibility
crushing down on my shoulders.
I never should have brought her along,
I
thought,
She’s just a kid.
But she wasn’t really—she was a soldier, and
to think of her as anything less was an insult to her and her sacrifice.

“I need to go back to the Central Hu…the bridge,” Del said. “This
equipment is set to automatically notify me if things get worse, but I will
have the monitor’s information stream sent to my station so I can actively watch
it for changes.”

Somewhat relieved, but still needled by guilt, I nodded and accompanied
Del out of the room.

We walked silently together toward the bridge, each lost in our
own thoughts and concerns. Reaching the door of the newly established, and
terribly under-furnished human dormitory, I quietly asked the Sentient to wake
me in six hours if I wasn’t up already. Then, as noiselessly as I could manage,
I opened the door and slipped inside the room. Light filtered in from the brightly
illuminated hallway, and I saw that Val and Stinson were both still sleeping
blissfully, despite the accommodations.

Carefully closing the door behind me, I stretched out on the floor,
shoved my hands under my head, and tried to force myself to sleep….

I was back on El Ferras.

Explosions ripped apart the nighttime sky, sending multicolored
streams of metal and smoke drifting down onto an already scorched landscape. Buildings
and people alike caught fire and burned, and the distant horizon glowed as if
the entire planet were alight.

As I ran through the twisted wreckage of the city, ripping my pant
legs on broken glass and fractured metal, I heard a high pitched scream coming
from somewhere close by. It was loud… incessant. It sounded like a child, but I
realized with a sickening feeling that it was actually a man’s voice pushed to
its limits. I darted around the corner of a collapsed building and ended up in
front of what used to be a bank—coming to a full stop two meters in front of
him.

What was left of him anyway.

His torso, one arm, and head were all that remained intact. But
somehow, remarkably…
horribly
; he was still alive. The poor soul was
drenched in blood, and paper money, thrown everywhere by a direct hit to the
bank, stuck to his wet and bleeding body. He saw me and tried to pull himself
forward, inching in my direction with his one remaining arm—leaving a grisly trail
of blood and gore in his wake.

And he was pleading like only the dying can.

“Please! Please…help me!”

He was crying—tears and dirt mixed together on his cheeks. “Oh god…please…help
me. It hurts!  Please god…I’m dying…”

But I knew that there was no help for him. There was no help for
any of us. Not anymore.

He broke into sobs as I turned and started running away, moving as
fast as I could to my destination.

I was less than three blocks from home now, running as fast as my lacerated
legs would carry me. I dodged around rubble and bodies, jumped over destroyed
tanks and ground-cars, sliced through the crowds of huddled survivors,
cluttering the roads.

I’m coming Tasha! I’m coming!

Something detonated behind me and I was blown high into the air,
smashing my head into a wall. I slid to the ground stunned…wait…

I was on fire!

Frantically slapping at my legs, I managed to extinguish the
flames and regain my feet. I started running again; my head and legs struggled,
fighting through the pain.

Over broken concrete and plastiform, I ran.

Past the dead and dying, I ran.

Into the front door of my house, I ran.

I stopped running when I found her body. Broken and burned—her
face the only thing still recognizable.

My Natasha.

I fell to my knees, screaming like the dying man I’d passed in the
street. I pounded the ground, tears streaming down my face. And I prayed for my
own death.

But it never came.

“Ben!”

What? Who?

“Ben!” It was Stinson shaking me awake. “Wake up! I think we’re
under attack!”

“Thank god,” I said groggily.
It was another nightmare.

He looked at me strangely. “What?”

“Never mind,” I said. He extended a hand to help me up. “Let’s get
to the bridge.”

I looked over at Val and saw her start to get up. “Stay here,” I
told her, “Until we find out what’s going on.”

Stinson and I darted out through the door.

…
and we ran
.

Chapter
Seven

“They took out our engines while we were still in Transit,” Del
explained, “forcing us back into normal space. I tried to maneuver away from
them, but they matched our course and speed—destroying our weapons systems and
stealth generator. We are defenseless.”

“Who are they?” I asked, looking at the screen. It displayed a
massive vessel, slightly elevated above our plane in space, hanging motionless against
a field of stars. I remembered seeing a long range scan of that type of ship
before; my brain identifying it even as Del spoke.