CHAPTER 5
DEATH AND SMOKING RUINS
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I would have liked to have stayed and hang out until the English cliffs, but Damien had some nice plans for me: to atone for my sins, the captain set me cleaning the deck with mop and bucket. Going back to sweeping under his command was not one of those things I wanted to experience again so soon in life.
From a distance, the English cliffs stopped the travelers' view like a mystical wall, dense and gray. Hobson's Rock stood proud and dark between the waters, tall and impregnable but strangely all around there was nothing but the screeching of seagulls; no movement, no sign of life. Dense columns of black smoke rose from the center of the fortress.
I dropped the broom to the ground. "Deena! Get back on board!", I called to her.
Her expression of joy from earlier had given way to fear. She turned to look at me and I ran to her, spontaneously grabbing her by the waist, lifting her over the handrail and laying her gently in front of me.
"Did they do that?", she asked worriedly.
I hesitated for a moment. It was impossible for that ship to even approach the island, an attack would require massive forces. "Impossible, maybe just an accident. Let's just be on the lookout", I told her. She nodded and I smiled to give her strength. She smiled back and I felt like a lion.
Damien couldn't believe his eyes. The towers of black smoke whose stench had already reached our nostrils didn't seem to be dissipating. All around there was now an unreal silence.
The barge jerked above the waves of the grayish sea and the waves often dampened the deck, but the small boat did not hint at surrendering to the waves and continued undaunted to move forward.
"Go below deck", I told her. "I want you to hide. Stay out of sight for now. Pack your bag just in case, okay?".
She was obedient and quickly went below to pack her things. I went to the helm to seek Damien's advice.
"Do we both see it?", he asked.
"We can smell it too, I guess", I confirmed. "It's burning a lot of jet fuel and plastic".
"It can't be them", Damien concluded hastily.
"Of course not, it's out of question! Maybe an accident happened inside the base or something".
"Although that's too weird for timing, n'est pas?".
"N'est fucking pas, old man".
"There are two options, Daith. Either it's an accident and it's a coincidence that we were passing by or it's related to what happened in Paris, in which case, we're in a sea of...".
"Wait a minute", I said. I tried logging into Starlink to acquire information, aware that this would cost me anonymity. "I don't have any network. Do you?”.
Damien concentrated with his AI and in turn found himself isolated. "Shall we give the girl a try?".
"She doesn't have a symbiote or an implant", I explained. "It wouldn't change anything anyway".
"No it wouldn't", he agreed. "Communications jammed, area deserted, fires untamed. That's a big attack. Unlikely from that single ship. Three air force flocks and an SR regiment, the 16th Calais, are based here. These are not people to be trifled with".
"No way it on Deena this time, who would be the illegitimate daughter of the Grand Master? How many other ships did they have to do this, fifty?", I asked looking around.
"I'll try to contact them on shortwave", Damien said turning on the boat's radio. Several scrambles came out of the speaker as he tried to make contact with someone on the emergency channel.
He tried several times to contact both Hobson's and the Coast Guard, in vain. Neither France nor England answered.
In the meantime, the barge advanced until it reached the steep, bare and grey cliffs of the artificial island. The proximity increased the effects of the wave motion, turning the boat into a theme park haunted house where we were all drunken tourists.
I stepped out of the helm room to look up closer at the twenty-foot-high perimeter wall built over the reef. The garrets seemed unguarded and no one seemed to be walking above those ramparts.
I went back inside.
"No response?", I asked, almost certain of the response.
"No contact, nothing. They don't even receive our signal. Isolated and unarmed only remains".
"We can't ignore what's happening here!", I protested. "Our people could use a hand! Better than staying out here in the open!".
"The enemy could be in there did you think of that?", observed Damien rightly. "And even if ours were all right, we've got hot goods! You, your hot stuff and my smuggled war hardware!".
"I'll be discreet", I promised. "You stay and keep an eye on events, cover me if necessary and stay close".
"Hey kid! Are you giving orders to me? It's me...".
"The retired one", I anticipated. "Sure, I screw up but it’s still me we are talking about, remember?".
"Bite!", he snapped, "T'est folle! C'est bien, but just take a little look! Then talk to me about it!", my old teacher grumpily agreed.
Deena watched from the edge of the hatchway to below deck. We exchanged a glance and she looked at me determinedly, the Rouen bag slung over her shoulder, saying "I'm ready".
"I'll get right on it", I told her. By now the barge was almost at the edge of the cliff. I landed with a leap, landing unsteadily on a wet and slippery boulder.
I climbed up quickly, taking advantage of the protrusions of the bare rock, seldom stained with green in some areas where shrubs or tufts of grass grew on a little soil carried by the wind. I crawled stealthily under the boundary wall that was only a few centimeters away from the overhang, sometimes less than half a meter from the void. Not even from so close to its top could the sentries be heard, not even in the turrets that occasionally guarded the surroundings, on the top of which gigantic searchlights and automatic machine guns stood out. I continued for about half a kilometer, until I found a long gap in the wall, caused by a powerful explosion that had partly caused it to collapse. More and more astonished, I went towards the opening to have a look inside.
From the courtyards of the base came an exhalation of burning and death, a putrid smell of stale blood and raw meat that I had heard only in the shooting range of the academy, nicknamed the Slaughterhouse because of the live animals that were shot as children to grow hair on the stomach. As soon as I looked over the wall, I saw that on the asphalt of the runway lay the remains of thousands of slaughtered soldiers, fighter planes, transport shuttles, aircraft, and others, destroyed and set on fire. The bodies were arranged as they had fallen, but in some places, terrible piles of corpses rose up, as if someone had started to collect them.
The ground was stained, burnt, marked by bullets and furrowed by laser beams probably coming out of small arms. I was disgusted by the vision of such a battlefield and as soon as I had the strength I turned towards the sea and, with tears in my eyes, I tried to breathe deeply of the non-fetid air. The stench of those bodies entered my soul until it saturated me with that sad and filthy miasma. I quickly lit a cigarette with a shaky hand and eagerly breathed in all the smoke I could without vomiting. It didn't make me feel any less dirty, but at least the tobacco covered with its aroma the taste of cold meat that had invaded my mind and lungs. I remembered what Dutronc had advised us, he who had just returned from a long campaign in Asia.
I broke off a cigarette and inserted the two parts one in each nostril. It helped. I found the strength to turn around again and enter Hobson's Rock to investigate or search for survivors.
I advanced swiftly, surrounded by death and desolation and hearing nothing but my own labored breathing, the metallic clink of the gun in my hand and the crackle of fires consuming the fuel of the various destroyed vehicles. One step after another in that open-air cemetery I arrived near the base buildings, a short distance from the hangars of the first level. I knew there were at least seven levels, mostly occupied by hangars full of military fighters intended for ground use and very few space shuttles. On the surface stood the administrative buildings and the military quarters of the base, 'at least two thousand', I remembered, 'including pilots, officers, civilian personnel and garrison'.
I entered through an entrance that looked directly onto the runways and noticed that the door had been destroyed by numerous gunshots and perhaps forced open by a metal battering ram, which had bent the steel plates that made it up. Behind it, a multitude of lifeless bodies of soldiers who had probably died defending the entrance to the base from invaders. "Who could have done this?", I asked myself as the disgust and horror began to gather strength, holding up what little courage I had left. I moved forward.
I walked down a long dark corridor that led to a large control room, one of the base's vital centers, the floor of which was littered with the bodies of other fallen soldiers.
The room was completely empty, the doors destroyed and all around were evident signs of a fierce battle. Only three bodies were lying in the center.
One of them, lying motionless, was lying at the farthest point from me, behind an overturned table that acted as a barricade, full of holes and cuts. The figure, bent over the table with arms dangling and palms resting on the floor, was dressed in a pitch-black raincoat trimmed in gold. A cadet like me, whose uniform I recognized. "Berlin," I said to myself, petrified. Another body lay on his knees, a few feet from the German cadet, bent over with his forehead touching the ground and his hands resting on the floor with their palms up. He seemed to be praying to some pagan deity. His light gray coat was typical of the academies of the Nordic countries, perhaps he was a Swede. He was certainly a great fighter, as the numerous .9 caliber shell casings testified to cold shiny and motionless all around him. In the center of the room, however, my pain grew as I recognized the third body.
He was a young man of my age with black skin, short woolly hair, and a strong, lean physique. In his left ear he wore an AITD signal amplifier to interface SAIs directly with tactical equipment, while his right hand still held a pistol. His raincoat was unmistakably the same as mine.
I approached cautifortusly, he lay supine in his own blood and breathing hard, perhaps his last gasps of air. I was assailed by a terrible anguish when I recognized one of my companions. "Erik, is that you?", I called to him in a low voice.
The figure lying on the ground remained motionless at first, then with difficulty the young man turned his head and opened his dark eyes, almost dull and without vigor, until he recognized the silhouette of an old companion: "I was waiting for a Valkyrie", he said ironically, "and I find myself with Daith Lester, what a pity".
"Erik, what are you doing here? Who attacked you?", I asked gently taking his head and laying it on my lap, wiping his sweaty, bloody face with the sleeve of his coat. I looked at his body for wounds, but there were so many I didn't even know where to begin to worry.
"The flight tests. I was going to have the exam in six days... only six days... but you, why are you here?".
"Flight exam... wait, is Sophia with you?", I worried anxiously.
"No, she left last week", he reassured me. "When are you going to give her a treat, huh? Look how worried you are about her...".
"Not now, jerk", I embarrassed. "Who attacked you?", I asked again in mixed feelings of anger and despair. "It wouldn't have been mercs on large warships, would it?".
Erik gasped and seemed to want to fall asleep. "Cruel dwarves... faceless madmen... they want my Valkyrie... Find her Daith, please".
"Yes Erik I’ll find her! Tell me where she is? Who wants her?", I humored him. I thought he was blatantly delirious.
"My Valkyrie... save her from the... traitor...", he said with a final wheeze in his voice.
"I swear. Tell me who to look for! Erik, please, if you don't tell me, how can I?!".
The poor cadet was now delirious, and with his last strength he said to me, "Tell Anne... that I died with honor", and expired.
I couldn't hold back my grief and in tears, after traditionally taking his name tag and serial number, I closed the eyes of my comrade who had fallen in battle. I would have given them to his partner Anne, once back home.
I gently laid his head on the ground and was about to retrace my steps, when a familiar noise chilled the blood in my veins and I sprinted back in the direction of the barge. Along with that continuous roar, suddenly there was a loud explosion.
One stride after another, I reached the breach again and under the wall I saw Damien holding a gun on a spaceship, the same one that had been chasing us under the grey sky of Paris. Only now the sky was turquoise and stained at times by clouds of black smoke, which showed no sign of clearing. "This way, quick!", I called to them, waving my gun with my right hand. "Why didn't you use the EMPB!?", I asked the old man as soon as he had reached me from the rocks.
"They flipped me over with a gust of air from their engines!", he explained. They were both soaked from the plunge into the water.
"Why now! Why!", I yelled in exasperation.
"They sunk Damien's boat!", cried Deena. She still had on her shoulders the duffel bag with the clothes she had taken from Rouen that she seemed to care a lot about.
"We must fall back under cover. In the fortress, quick!", I was by now emotionally drained. Chased by the shuttle, we slipped briefly under the walls and reached the breach again, until we reached the opening that led to the courtyard. As soon as Deena saw the battlefield, she came to a sudden halt.
"Don't look, close your eyes!", I yelled at her hoping to unlock her. The poor girl was held back by shock, just as I had been a moment before. So, as soon as I handed the weapon to the captain along with her black bag, I took the girl in my arms and continued my escape. She kept her eyes closed, holding on to the coat with both hands and her face continuously wet with tears. The sight of that place was truly horrifying and shocking, regardless our context. We continued running to the entrance that led to the control room, entered the dark corridor and arrived at the control room where Erik lay. Damien immediately recognized the former student and immediately went to check his pulse. With great pain he realized his death.
"What killed my boy?", asked Damien panting. "C'est quoi cette folie? Is this really about you?".
I left Deena on her haunches and stood in front of her facing my old mentor. "Calm down major, get a hold on yourself!".
"Answer me girl! Deena! Are you the one causing this? First Matt now Erik! My boys here die! Qui êtes-vous? Réponse! ", he shouted approaching furiously.
I drew my remaining weapon, but without pointing it anywhere. "Major!", I called back to him. "Pull yourself together!".
"Do you see all this, kid? Tu le vois? You were dead too if it wasn't for your skills! Death is dancing around your princess, don't you realize that? Something is in motion here Daith and we are in the middle of it, two poor fools in the eye of the storm!".
"Major Dutronc! It's certainly not Deena's fault that this massacre has taken place! Something is in motion but it's certainly not just about her!".
"So? What are we supposed to do, huh?", he asked shocked. Erik was a good guy and a dear memory to him. That pain was stronger than a stab wound for that old soldier.
"You may surrender and lay your weapons on the ground", replied a familiar voice behind us.
Half a dozen burly, well-armed men arrived, some with very familiar faces. I moved Deena again as I oriented myself from facing Damien to that crowd, keeping her behind me.
"Weapons on the ground", the leader said again, his face tired. "This hunt has gone on long enough!".
"I agree", I said. "Why not end it here?".
"Well it can be done!", he said raising his weapon toward me.
"You're not gonna shoot", I said. "You can't risk hitting her. You'll have to come get her".
The blond man lowered his weapon. "You're damn right, brat. Come on guys, on her, get her. Alive, not necessarily whole".
His buddies came forward in a group, holstering their pistols or putting the automatic weapon on their backs, all dressed alike with parts of that curious blue uniform I had seen in Paris, some the pants, some the jacket or a hat with a visor.
I holstered my gun, took a few steps forward and felt Deena grabbing my coat. Damien released her grip and forcibly pulled her away.
"Daith no!", she protested.
"I'll do it right now", I said again.
I found myself alone against ten of them, a couple armed with tonfas. I snapped my jaunty neck and waved them over.
Two of them charged at me at the same time, and I jumped up and hit them both in the face with a double scissor kick, knocking them off their feet. Three more jumped to attack, the one on my left with a tonfa. I let the central one get closer, dodged a jab by passing underneath him and finished him off with an uppercut to the throat; I got out of his line and intercepted the armed wrist of the guy with the tonfa.
Taking advantage of a joint lever, I took possession of the steel club and, still holding his hand tightly in my grip, I threw it at the third guy's head, hitting him full in the face.
I twisted the arm of the man I was holding in my fist and broke it with a palm strike straight to his elbow.
I let him go screaming, put myself on guard and went to take care of the other one with the tonfa, dodging a couple of blows, crippling him with a kick to the inner thigh that made him kneel down and finishing him off with an axe kick to the temple.
I turned to face the remaining four, hopping back to stand in front of Deena to keep them from deciding to shoot me. All four of them charged at once, I threw myself forward and with a sweep I immediately knocked one of them to the ground, hitting him in the ankle. I picked myself up, dodged a few punches and kicks thrown at random by a couple of them, noticing that a knife had come out.
I landed a punch to the face but I managed to kick from the outside to the inside of the guy's gun hand, ripping the knife off him and accidentally driving it into the leg of the guy next to me.
The guy who was armed before found my face inches from his face, I looked and yelled at him, startling him and dropping on his butt. The last man standing had picked up a tonfa from the ground and stood a little distance away, hoping to place a lucky shot.
"That's so cool!", exclaimed Deena amazed at the performance.
I turned my head for a moment to look at her and flashed her a smile full of bravado. The last one of them took advantage of this, he came forward and raised his cane, then lowering it forcefully against my head. I let it go empty simply by moving to the side, the inertia of that attack brought the man almost on his knees and I could give him a decisive knee on the temple.
I looked the leader of that gang in the eyes, surrounded by the moans of his men, ready to challenge him too. The fellow had a look of ice and didn't seem surprised at how things had gone.
"Tell me, mister merc", I called to him. "Was it you who attacked this place?".
"Is that even possible?", groaned one of them still on the ground.
"Are you attacking Humanity in this shameless way just to get your hands on this girl? What the fuck for?", I insisted.
"Like I told you kid, killing is bad for business", he replied. "We didn't attack Hobson's Rock, with a single ship we couldn't even get close. Was it your idea to exploit the place's anti-aircraft defenses to keep us out?".
"Yes", I confirmed smugly.
"Nice move", he congratulated. "If they hadn't put the whole thing in flames it would have worked."
"Who did this?", I asked sharply.
"Let's talk business, shall we?", he said, swinging the gun at his side.
"We have no business with you", I replied.
"Sure we do", he said pointing to Deena behind me. "We get paid to retrieve a girl like that one over there. A lot. I'm beginning to understand why, given what's happening around us".
So, something was really going on. The attack on Hobson's and the search for Deena were related in some way. "We're not the only ones, the contract is open. The group you cleared out at Athena Tower were our competitors. After us will come others and more. Sooner or later someone worse than me will find you sitting on the toilet and will have no qualms about pulling the trigger".
"Are you proposing a deal?", I asked puzzled.
"Not to you, rookie!", he belittled me with a laugh. "I have no hope of bargaining with a kid who has been brainwashed by Humanity. Deena Dumas are you there? Knock on wood!", he called to her.
She released herself from my shadow and stepped to the side, her face determined. "What do you want?".
"Dear Deena", the man continued, "we've been hunting you for weeks. Our competitors got there before us, I know they even tortured you to find out something. None of us know why the customer is looking for people like you. We could have found another one, who knows, but now it's all about you. The pay is scaled according to the test you have been given, you remember that blood test, don't you? You give a disproportionately good result, too good to ignore. Many people have already died in this treasure hunt. We are mercenaries, we don't care, but what about you? Are you really willing to sacrifice more innocents to save your own skin? I'm certainly not a serial killer, I have a label. As a good mercenary, I kill for hire or when necessary. Killing is bad for business, you always have to bribe someone afterwards to get things calmed down or waste rivers of fuel on boring escapes. Instead, I'm always willing to reward my collaborators. That Dumas, you know, I paid him for real, I didn't cheat him to get you. I'll pay you too if you're up for it, I'm offering you the lives of these two intrepid assholes who have been keeping you safe for days. We're in a hot little spot and I don't fancy federal forces taking over our ship in this context, they'd think as bad as Captain America here".
Leveraging Deena's guilt was a low blow. I watched her out of the corner of my eye, gaze down and fists clenched along her sides.
"The situation is escalating now," he continued. His men began to stand up and gather around him, those I had hurt the worst began to leave the room. I counted a total of seven enemies left. "If I have to choose between risking everything or going home empty-handed, I'll take my chances. For the last time Deena, hand yourself over. Now it's on to the guns, as it goes, it goes. If you end up killed along with them you can see it was meant to be. We'll find another one".
Guns and rifles started popping up and I found myself without my hostage and with only a few shots in the only gun I had left.
My gaze bounced from one enemy to another. I could have jumped for cover, but the blasts could have hit Deena behind me. She, who had often shown some uncommon insight, seemed to interpret my state of mind. She stepped forward, showing her palms. She wanted to surrender.
Damien disagreed. He stopped her by putting a hand on her shoulder and threw a hand grenade towards the grouped enemies.
It almost seemed like a slow-motion throw because of how slow and parabolic it was and I understood why. It wasn't a safe distance to throw a firebomb and Damien wanted to make sure I got a good look at what he was doing. I threw myself to the ground, trying to get my whole body, including my head and feet, inside the TW coat.
A frightening bang and a wave of heat filled the room, making me lose my hearing and cutting off my breath. Dutronc was his usual self. He hadn't resisted the temptation to pick up something from the battlefield and must have taken one of those grenades from some corpse whose use in buildings is forbidden by procedure.
I waited a few seconds then emerged from the protection of the coat to try to understand something in the midst of that terrible smoke that filled the room. Damien and Deena had moved and were nowhere to be found. From where I remembered the mercs were, volleys of shots started coming in randomly toward my position.
I trusted Damien so all I could think about was getting out of there. I jumped over several obstacles and ran towards a random wall and entered another corridor, getting lost. A little later I came to a fork in the road and, since there were no signs of any kind, I trusted my luck and took the corridor to the left. In this corridor I found some lifeless bodies of civilian personnel, orderlies judging by their clothing. I continued on until I found a steel door, miraculously intact, which automatically opened upward as I approached it. I entered without looking, but quickly learned that I had ended up in the base's kitchens, and without a second thought I ducked behind a metal counter to catch my breath. I was panting heavily from the long run I had made without realizing it because of the adrenaline.
I took the remaining gun from the holster under my armpit and counted the rounds in the magazine. With the slightest noise I screwed a silencer into the barrel, which I carried in one of the many pockets inside my coat. The new tactic would have been simple: I would have suddenly popped up several times to hit them one by one and I also would have tried to board the shuttle, even if I didn't know how to pilot it. I could always "convince" the pilots to give us a ride. I took a deep breath and started to walk toward what seemed like madness, when something stopped me.
My ears were still ringing from the earlier bang and my hearing came and went. For a moment I thought I heard a sob coming from somewhere around there. Mostly I heard a strange hissing sound that didn't seem normal. The mysterious hissing then became a more distant noise in the ghostly silence of the kitchen shrouded in chaos and filth.
I stopped, holding my breath to understand where it was coming from and looked around me with circumspection, trying in vain to unclog my ears by mistreating them with my hands. My eye fell on a metal cabinet and I slowly opened the two sliding doors. A stinking cloud of sulfur suddenly came out together with a burst of heat: a simple gas leak, which was immediately cut off by a quick turn of a red knob cleverly placed there for emergencies. The hissing stopped. I made to leave the kitchens, satisfied to have avoided another explosion, but again I felt that something was wrong and with great concentration, I was able to distinguish again a soft cry. "I'll ask for an extra charge for reading the meters", I joked to myself, looking for where the second gas leak might have come from. The search finally led me to inspect a piece of furniture that was very old and out of order, long out of use; I put an ear to the sheet metal and heard the same sound louder. I bent down and slowly opened the doors, curious to see the other gas leak that kept making me late. As soon as I opened them, I noticed that from the darkness of that small shelter, two clear, bright blue eyes were staring at me in fear. I was quite surprised to see a small pale huddled and frightened figure jump out and hug me tenderly, greeting me in a soft voice.
"Erik, thank goodness! You're finally here!", said the mysterious blonde-haired maiden.
"I-I'm not Erik," I replied awkwardly, struggling to free myself from that embrace.
"What?", the girl then winced, startling herself again.
"Easy! Can't you see my uniform? I'm with Erik, don't be afraid. Who are you, what's your name?", I asked, happy to have found a survivor.
"Christelle Teyssier", she said soothingly. "Where is Erik?".
'Will this be the Valkyrie he was talking about?", I wondered. 'Sorry man, if I tell her you're dead she might freak out and I don't have time'. "I'll tell you later. Now we have to escape from this place, you'll explain me calmly what happened", I answered her, trying to postpone the moment in which I would have communicated her Erik's fate. She came out of her narrow hiding place and the cold neon light made her appear in full. The "Valkyrie" was a girl maybe my age, as tall as me and with a statuesque physique, sensual and elegant bearing. Her face was beautiful, sweet and kind, the exhaustion resulting from that situation was not enough to erase the aura of serenity that face transmitted. Her eyes were deep blue, almost opal, and her hair was long and straight platinum blonde. Seeing her made me immediately think that if they had ever existed, that was how angels must have looked, even if not in sneakers, orange tank top and black shorts.
"Are they gone?" she asked. I thought he was referring to those who had attacked the base.
"There are mercs chasing us", I explained briefly. "I'm going to attempt to get rid of them and get everyone to safety".
"You don't know anything. No one is safe anymore", she said cryptically.
Giving no weight to her words, I took her by the hand and began wandering around looking for resources for my counterattack.
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The door to our cell opened and Deena along with a suffering Damien were thrown in with us.
That ship even had a holding area inside, perhaps designed to keep insubordinate crew members cool. Those metal walls had been our whole world for quite a while now, white and bare as to leave no hope. The dim lighting was provided by a few points around the perimeter of the cell, both above and below, as it was designed for weightlessness. In fact, there were no cots but a series of hammocks hanging on the walls at the sides to which one could tie oneself in order to sleep, and not even a bathroom but a pair of tubes designed to suck up evacuations. I saw them from the corner of the cell where I had exiled myself, sitting on the floor with my legs crossed and my back against the wall.
A short distance from me, Christelle also lay seated, as disappointed as I was and perhaps disappointed in me. Damien was tossed carelessly to the ground and so was Deena.
I looked up earnestly in the direction of my old friend without paying attention to the girl; he was agonizing on the floor and seemed badly hurt. I approached him preceded in intent by her. "How did this happen?", I asked her worriedly.
"Their leader. He came out of nowhere and shot him”, she replied feeling partly guilty.
"You're getting old, you know that? Getting shot like that! I'd say it's not worthy of you", I told him smiling and compressing the stomach wound with both hands.
"Oui", the man suddenly replied. "I'm old and if I remember correctly I'm retired, sucked out of my tranquility into the merciless vortex of your bullshit".
"Well, that's not so bad", I ironized accusingly at those acid words. I looked at him grievously. He was losing a lot of blood and needed a doctor as soon as possible. "I think," I said, "we're going to have to take care of this wound of yours. I don't want it to get infected and we need to stop the bleeding. No exit wound, I'll have to look for it".
"Do you have the tools behind you with you?", the man asked with a mixture of relief and concern.
"An emergency first aid kit. Pliers needle gauze thread and a shot of morphine. Just enough to stall... SAI will help me with procedures but I don't exactly have the steady hand of a surgeon".
"Have you ever done it?", asked Deena.
"Ehm… on a pig", I admitted. "It was already dead though".
"Comme moi ...", he pitied himself trying to stay awake.
"Deena, compress the wound like I used to", I asked her as I went through my inside pockets. I pulled out a pair of plastic-wrapped surgeon's pliers with the tips up, some sterilized gauze, a bottle of disinfectant and a scalpel, also still in its protective case.
"Do you think it's necessary to do this now?", asked Deena worried about the old man. I wasn't exactly convincing as a doctor.
"He's bleeding out and even if I stop the bleeding he'll die from the infection caused by the dead tissue around the wound. So yes, I'd say we need to do something".
"What a diagnosis," commented a female voice from the other side of the cell door, which had opened at that moment. "But as you said yourself, you're not a doctor". A woman in her forties entered, her long faded brown hair let loose over her shoulders. She wore a pair of fine-lensed glasses on her slightly aquiline nose. She was thin and dry and her wrinkled forehead gave the idea of a stern woman. "I'm Dr. Bancroft, the ship's doctor. Don't kill the poor guy, leave him to me".
"Who's to say you don't want to interrogate him or worse? After all, we aren’t worth anything", I objected suspiciously.
"I'm a doctor, not a torturer. If he cares about his skin, I suggest he follow me. He has at most a half hour to live in that state; he wouldn't even stand an afternoon tea, let alone an interrogation".
"I'm coming, I'm coming. Better to risk my ass with a suspicious-looking doctor than under the tools handled by him!", replied Damien wryly. "Lift me up!".
"I might be offended", I said pocketing my improvised first aid kit again. Damien staggered to his feet and followed the doctor, not at all intimidated by the man who, injured and exhausted, was struggling to stay on his feet. The door closed behind them and silence fell in the cell. Christelle silently observed the scene from the sidelines.
"Good thing at least you're okay", Deena suddenly said, rubbing her bloodstained hands against her red T-shirt. "How come you're here?".
"We were captured by the cap, the one named Asif. There was a firefight but with the few shots I had left... He got around us by coming out of a side door and put a gun to my temple, then led us here. They decided to save our lives for now and it makes very little sense".
"You and who?", she asked confused. I pointed with my thumb to the girl behind us, who without further regard sat with her head in the clouds. Deena immediately noticed her beauty and surprised me with a question with a strangely inquisitive tone. "And who is she?".
I shrugged. "I found her in the base kitchens. I think she's the only survivor of the battle, maybe one of the orderlies. I'll have to question her later, but not here. They will certainly be listening and watching us".
Deena certainly didn't have anything secret to keep to herself, so she decided to go meet the newcomer right away. "Ciao", Deena greeted her shyly, cautiously approaching Christelle.
The blonde girl looked up from the floor. An unconvinced greeting came from her lips.
"What's your name?", asked Deena then.
"My name is Christelle, Christelle Teyssier. And you?".
"Deena Dumas," she replied. "So, you're French too, are you?".
"Not at all, I mean...almost. My father is. I'm from Couvin. Do you know it?".
"No, I'm sorry. Is it far from here?", she asked then.
"Not too far, as far as I know. It's almost on the border. And where are you from?".
"Oh, I... Paris," she answered her then, smiling. "Grew up there, I know that for sure. What were you doing in Hobson's Rock? Did you work there?".
"We...", she began, but I was ready to intrude.
"Quiet!", I interjected. "You will only tell this to me or whoever is acting on my behalf and separately. Do not divulge any military information in here, understood? Whoever you are, even if it's just a canteen attendant, you are not to tell".
"Lame", Deena protested then. "I don't like this room. It's cramped and I'm gasping for air, can I at least have a chat?".
"Talk about whatever you like, not Hobson's".
Suddenly a strange sensation struck all three of us: at first it was not clear, but it was as if we felt lighter and lighter, as if we were immersed in a tub full of water. Both girls were seized by a slight malaise and a nagging sense of nausea. I immediately traced that feeling back to weightlessness.
"We're leaving Terra", I said to the two girls who looked at me confused.
"You mean we took off and are now in orbit?", Christelle then asked.
"Apparently", I replied suddenly leaping up to the ceiling. "Extraordinary, this ship is so refined that we haven't even felt the engines pushing us all this time".
Deena was caught in a brief burst of excitement, letting herself twirl through the air with a marveled sense of discovery. Christelle, on the other hand, almost at ease in 0G, went straight to one of the hammocks and strapped herself in to make sure she stayed stable and didn't float around at random.
I looked around, searching for any details that might come in handy for an escape but it was all useless. I had neither the knowledge nor the skills to even think about breaking out of a prison like that.
The door of the cell opened again behind us and a person armed with a gun with a threatening face and a cold look came out. It was the boss and he looked angrier than usual. "You're having fun aren't you, Lieutenant?", he asked then with irony and contempt, grabbing me by the raincoat and observing the rank sewn on the fabric. "Tell me, brat. Because of you I have lost eight men. Why shouldn't I kill you?".
"You tell me", I replied, "since you won on all fronts. You got what you wanted, I'm just a danger to you. Even now, I am only waiting for an opportunity to disarm and kill you".
"Cadets", he said contemptuously, "arrogant brats with their heads full of propaganda... Lucky for you I'm not here for that, but to ask you a couple of easy questions. First, what do you have to do with her? How much is she really worth?".
"The first one is easy", I replied with a laugh. "She ran me over with a bicycle".
"Huh?", he asked confused. Deena behind me watched in silence.
"I'm here in France for training with the FMP", I continued. "I saved her once from your competitors at Athena. Then you showed up in the middle of a private investigation of mine, and our paths sadly met".
"Private... investigation?", he asked without understanding. "What the fuck are you talking about?".
"We could say a desire of mine to understand better", I said almost embarrassed by my own choices.
"Are you telling me that you just meddle?".
"I live an empty, sad life", I said sarcastically.
"You're boyish and dickish enough for it to be true, this story of yours. Let me guess, score hunting?".
"It's a competitive world I live in", I ironized.
"Yeah," he said staring me in the eye. "So, you're not here on behalf of Humanity".
"Humanity? Deena's a suburban illegal, at best I should be arresting her and taking her to the FMP, let alone protecting her!".
He looked at me again and then looked at her intently. He went back looking into my eyes and hinted at a mischievous grin. "Of course", he finally said. "For someone like that, the rules can be broken too, am I right cowboy?".
I didn't really understand what he meant, but he let me go and pushed me away.
"Now I get it", he said vaguely bitterly. "It seems we are both unaware of what is going on after all. A curious fate of yours boy, in a way you've been working for us all this time without even realizing it. Good luck with the trial, if you come out alive".
The blond man walked out of the cell and the door went back to closing firmly leaving me with even more questions. "What did he mean by saying I worked for him?", I asked aloud.
"Because you gave him me", the blonde girl said.
I turned my head, trying with my hands to generate enough motion by moving the air to turn with the rest of my body as well. "You?".
"They were looking for me too," she confirmed. "That's why Hobson's Rock burned down".
Now the cases had become two. A suburban girl hunted mercilessly by mercs paid a madness to search for people like Deena. Now that poor lost angel was being kept inside one of Humanity's most secure bases, razed to the ground to protect her.
My faith in Deena had a little dip, but I didn't want to listen to Damien's ideas. I realized that I was in the middle of something huge, much bigger than a simple human trafficking ring like we saw in the post-war megacities.
Whoever had an interest in those two girls had the resources of a nation at their disposal and I began to fantasize about a plan by the Domini to overpower Humanity.
I wanted to ask Christelle everything she knew but I wasn't going to play into their hands. I knew very well that they couldn't harm Deena and consequently not even Christelle. That's why they would never question them. But if I asked the questions and they answered spontaneously, they would only have to listen.
I stifled the urge then and went back to pay attention to Deena's condition. Her excitement and adrenaline were waning, revealing the fatigue and aftermath of the last few hours.
"Are you okay?", I asked floating towards her.
"I feel tired," she replied. "The room is too small".
"It's the least I'd say. You did good so far".
"Liar", she sighed bitterly. "I'm useless and I'm trouble".
"You're trouble indeed", I smiled. "I like trouble".
"Yeah", she exhaled. "But Matt and Damien could have definitely enjoy living without it".
"You've never been a burden these days. If I tell you to run, to follow me, to act, you act. You're not a soldier, but gee, what reflexes. You don't expect that kind of coolness from a civilian, you know? You'd be interesting with a gun in your hand".
"Don't even joke about that Daith", she annoyed crossing her arms. "I hate violence. Do you ever get... nah never mind".
"Tell me, do I ever get what?".
"When you have someone around you and you feel what they are feeling as if you are experiencing it yourself with them".
"The word you're looking for should be empathy, right? It's a quality we all have more or less. It's actually a flaw if it comes to having to hurt someone".
"Yes! Precisely. That's why I hate violence. Maybe I'm just weak and that's it".
"A weakling wouldn't survive in a shitty place like Paris", I said, "and I'm not going to take back the offense". I noticed that she was starting to feel cold. I took off my coat and wrapped it around her, placing it over her shoulders and tightening the belt around her waist.
She looked at me surprised, causing me to blush. "I'm hot", I lied looking away. "Don't think about Matt and Damien", I continued. "Because whatever is going on around us, it's big. So big that it was probably going to affect us anyway, sooner or later. Whoever's after you attacked Hobson's to get her, too. Such a powerful enemy has big things in mind, things that we cadets have a duty to oppose Deena. It may have started out as a game but that game exposed something serious. It is my duty to protect you and to protect the citizens of Humanity, so don't feel guilty about anything".
He huddled in his strained and worn coat, hiding his face and saying a "thank you" from under the fabric. "It's weird".
"What?".
"I have a nose for certain things", he said. "You're a strange person. Because of what you do. No... for how you do it."
"And what do you sniff?", I asked almost amused.
"Danger. Solitude. Kindness".
By now I was certain, Deena was beginning to exhibit the classic symptoms of claustrophobia. She was shivering despite her coat and her forehead was beginning to moisten. Christelle, on the contrary, remained motionless and indifferent, while Damien took a nap after returning from the infirmary, full of painkillers and anesthetics. I noticed, with concern, the condition of my group: if we had to escape, we certainly couldn't do it in that state. Maybe Damien wasn't as bad as I thought, but I couldn't count on him to take any action if the opportunity arose.
I turned my gaze back to Deena, the only one I was sure would keep up with me: huddled in a corner wrapped in her raincoat, she was nervously moving her right foot left and right and casting strange looks around her.
"Hey", I said as I approached. "You're not used to ships, that's normal. Try to relax, calm your nerves. There’s no point in worrying". She wasn't even listening to me as nervous as she was. I shook her lightly to get her attention. "It's just an impression", I whispered, "the one you're feeling now. It's not true that you're short of air, you're just imagining it".
"And what do you know about it? You are made of iron".
"I used to suffer from enclosed spaces, too. The secret is to think of something else and be strong. Since we don't have to do anything, why don't you focus on a pleasant memory or a feeling that gives you comfort? Try to relive it with your mind and stay there in that moment".
Suddenly, the girl hugged me tightly. I petrified myself embarrassed, not expecting that reaction. "That's nice, isn't it?", she said, her face spread across my chest.
"Um...w-well if it'll help calm you down...".
Deena breathed hard, several times. "You smell good, you know".
"After everything that's happened to us I doubt it", I replied uncomfortably from that sudden contact.
She inhaled one more time and exhaled again to calm herself. "You could sweat all day and still taste good. You can see and feel that you're from another planet".
"I was born on Terra...".
Deena even managed to laugh. "You are so far from my world that only now that I smell and touch you do you seem real to me".
"What do you mean?", I asked increasingly confused.
"Laisse tomber. Rather, did you leave any of your soldier's tools on?".
"Tools? They took everything from me. Why?".
"I feel some kind of weird vibration", she explained. "Especially when you inhale".
"Oh, yeah... that", I said realizing what he was referring to. "Never mind".
"Hm". Deena clung tighter to her shirt and sank her forehead into my chest. "You're just weird. Weird weird and even weirder. Why am I calming down so fast...?".
"Feeling better? W-well...", I embarrassed myself.
"What's going to happen now?", she asked. She was no longer shaking and that calmed me down as well.
"I don't know", I admitted. "But it's going to be okay".
"I know you're scared," she said. "I can feel it. But if you say it's going to be okay, I might as well believe it".
Unconsciously, I accepted the contact and slowly relaxed my limbs. "Everything will be fine", I repeated, lying to myself.
ns 15.158.61.7da2
