Young Writers Society

Chapter 5

Garett didn’t say anything but was internally overjoyed,maybe he even smiled. By now he had figured out what had happened with the EM field. Very clever manipulation, he reasoned that Dunham, who seemed intelligent must’ve been behind the discretely brilliant plan.

Dunham decoupled his helmet with a slight turn and an upwards pull. The helmet came off with a pressurised hiss as the stored air escaped. Dunham for the first time in almost a day could see through his own unfiltered eyes again.

The helmet added a whole layer of audiovisual perception to his living experience. It had become an extension of his senses, and his very being, he felt impaired without it. It had the inbuilt ability to distinguish speech and sounds of living things and It could magnify them on demand. They reached a safe altitude and not awaiting orders Dunham floored it into FTL. For a few seconds to the observer the ship would have accelerated at a sweltering pace, faster and faster until it disappeared, the process took under three seconds. Once they achieved FTL speeds they were by technical definition, in a temporary pocket universe, being held together by the EM drive. It was all too complex for Dunham, or practically anyone. What mattered however was that they were safe. And they had options, they could reach a safe outpost and alert the fleet of the situation on Yujar, and on the way they could stop a refugee camp and drop off their remaining survivor. He suspected they would have some questions for Garett once he was dropped off. It was a shame, this wasn’t Garett’s war and yet he was the target. The Starshade militia were inhuman in their brutality, they disregarded all life in equal manner. Dunham’s blood near boiled at the thought of all those who hadn’t survived, most recently in his mind was the child, Bo, who had been gunned down trying to save another civilian. It was hard to feel remorse when facing an enemy that would kill children in cold blood, ones that presented no threat. His unit was shattered by the loss of Nero, they hadn’t even spoken a word about him since he had been killed. Dunham knew inside that there was nothing he really could’ve done, but he wouldn’t let himself believe so until he replayed the nightmare a million times over in his head, calculating if there was anything he could’ve done,anything at all.

He wasn’t even a good friend of Nero’s per say, they talked and joked but Dunham would say aside from Klaxon, Nero he was least close to. But he still felt hollowed out by his squadmates death. Even the furthest member in this squad was close. How could he not be devastated by the death of someone whom he had trained with and fought alongside for years?

Garett observed through the large pane as the EM drive became active. The familiar distortion followed by total blackness outside. He sat back in his chair, they were safe. The air was no longer cold. The seat felt tenfold more comfortable than before, nearly sleep inducing comfort. Once again he nigh allowed his thoughts to catch up with him. But he would offput this personal confrontation for as long as he could. A few minutes passed before he heard Klaxon,

“Garett?”

She she stood in the doorway that he stood and turned to face.

“Let’s get you to the medical room and my squadmate Kru will treat you.”

Without waiting for his response she turned and left, revealing Kru stood behind her. Unlike her he wasn’t helmet clad, his face was in full view. Garett had pleasant surprise in confirming they were indeed living things and not automaton androids. He had electric blue eyes and a young face, only slightly older looking than Garett, he was probably human or one of the few near identical species. His cheekbones were high, his hair was short but limp, like it had been given a crew cut but refused to stand up straight.

“Alright civvie, let’s get you onto the examination table.” Kru said dryly, without his helmet he looked far more alive, but sounded more robotic than before. Garett noticed his distant and glassy eyes, and wondered if he wore a similar look.He had almost forgotten they had lost a crewmate as well. Garett again dared himself not to feel sympathy for fear it would trigger a butterfly effect of emotion he himself wasn’t yet ready to handle. He walked over to Kru on light feet. Upon registering the apparent concern etched upon Kru’s face he flashed his best overdone smile.

Kru silently commended Garett on his resilience. He still managed to pull a smile despite the immense mental and physical trauma he had experienced in the last hour or two. Garett’s right arm was looking a lot worse for wear than his left. The right forearm was a blistering and bubbling mess, a mottled patchwork of stringy skin that stayed on by tension alone. Kru winced just having to observe the raggedy arm. He wasn’t exactly unused to gruesome injury, but the arm was nearly too much, even for him.

The small operating room was silent but for Garett’s weak groans. Garett observed the gleaming and glinting of the steel tools that hung upon the wall. When Kru went for one Garett couldn’t help but flinch. The idea of any of them touching him petrified him. Would Kru go for the large saw, or the three pronged needle to its left? He breathed a sigh of relief seeing Kru reach instead for a small surgical knife, Garett believed it was called a scarpel? He knew it was something like that. Kru walked over to Garett who was on his back staring back at him with tired but alert eyes. Garett’s jacket had been removed and he was prepped for surgery, Kru intended not to use any anesthesia unless it was necessary for the surgery’s success.

“This is going to hurt” He said, giving Garett a well meant warning. It came across as more of a threat to Garett’s tired and tepid mind.

“I have to remove the scar tissue, before it gets infected” Kru said, already begging to whittle away the fast blackening areas of skin. Garett winced at the stinging, but it hurt a lot less than it should’ve thanks to Garett’s shell shocked nature.

Peelings of skin and charred flesh fell into a collection bucket, leaving a smell like meat in the air, not having the wherewithal to vocalise his pain any other way, he simply let out a groan of discomfort. Seeing his flaccid state Kru took a second to stick his wrist with an IV drip, letting drugs seep into his bloodstream to put him to sleep before he was enveloped in a total delirium. As predicted his heartbeat soon slowed and his eyelids fluttered a final time before the veil of sleep fell over him. Kru continued his work in silence and the gruesome peelings piled up.

The cockpit was darkened. The mood inside was sombre. Inside it sat Klaxon, Dunham and Pole. Klaxon’s helmet remained firmly on, as always. The other two held their helmets at their side.

“Where’s Kru?” Pole inquired quietly.

“He’s patching the civvie up, I gave him authorization to use the XMC substitute.” Klaxon replied.

“Isn’t that stuff expensive?” Dunham said skeptically.

“And experimental.” Pole added.

“Whatever the ISPC deems safe for testing, I concur.” Klaxon replied irritably. Pole and Dunham shot each other questioning looks. Which like most things, didn’t go unnoticed by Klaxon. Deciding it would be best to move on, Dunham changed the subject.

“What’s our plan of action as of now, how do we inform the ISPC?” Dunham questioned. Klaxon took a brief moment to contemplate her answer, she had clearly been considering and weighing the options beforehand and was now making her final judgement.

“We’ll drop of the civvie in Genidol on Perdua minor, the refugee camp there hasn’t yet reached maximum capacity.” Klaxon decided.

“It’ll be damn near full once we alert the ISPC of the entire damn planet that’s under siege” Pole muttered.

“You assume no other squads that escaped Yujar have communicated with HQ yet?” Dunham said, eyebrows raised in a semi exaggerated look of skepticism.

“We only got out of there because the we told the AI pilot to go land somewhere else after our arrival” Klaxon reminded them.

“If our shuttle had been parked in town it would’ve been destroyed along with the rest.”

“ After Perdua minor?” Dunham asked.

“We’ll head straight to the nearest outpost on Dedrea where they can send HQ an encrypted signal.” Klaxon said.

“If we broadcast using our onboard comms or any comms not from an outpost, they’ll be hesitant to take action in case it’s a trick, we’ll need to use a trusted signal. And if we try to get to HQ ourselves we’ll waste too much time.” She explained. The two of them gave understanding nods and quietly voiced their agreements. Course was set.

“Rest up, we’ll be there in-” She paused to check the display on the dashboard, ”About eighteen hours” she finished. Mumbled parting words, and then a walk back to their individual quarters. She stayed sat in the cockpit for a moment longer, admiring the visual silence before she too headed back to her cabin. Soon Kru was the only member awake, and he worked late into their eighteen hours.

Garett awoke to the feel of cold steel pressing against his relaxed back. As his body slowly came to life he became aware of medley of sensations. His face was a stinging and aching potluck of pain, his right arm felt almost numb and strangely colder than the rest of him, and his left arm felt a similar sting to his face. Above him a fluorescent bulb glared into his eyes, forcing him to squint. The action of squinting was met with a series of painful prickles that traversed the length of his brow.

He sat bolt up on the table, his memories slowly flooding back into his weary mind. As if it would make things clearer, he rubbed his eyes, feeling the sleepy sand grit come away. The Starshade attack, his town destroyed. The people burning, the shouting and screaming, and worst of all, the silence that ensued. He could still hear the plasma weapons crackle, still smell the ionized burnt air. He had to reaffirm where he was to himself, he was in the medical bay of the ISPC shuttle.

Out of the shadows cast by the singular surgery light stepped the medical officer, Kru. Kru’s face held a concerned and apologetic look that Garett didn’t like.

“The good news is that your face has very minimal scarring, thanks to your protecting it with your arms. Unfortunately your arms did take the brunt of the damage, which was quite severe” Kru recited without even telling Garett anything had happened first. Garett, in a state of shock gave his arms the once over.

His right arm had long black string-like fibres running down the length of it. Panic set in once he realised the stringlike fibres weren’t above the skin, they were there instead of the skin.

“The burns, as is typical of residual plasma burns, were very deep.” Kru told him solemnly.

“A large portion of the muscles in your right forearm had to be replaced by artificial muscles. You’ve probably never heard of artificial muscles before. That would be because this is a new technology, and you’re one of the first to be outfitted with them, we call them XMC muscle substitutes.” Kru finished, now flashing a nervous smile, as if it any of that were supposed to make him less shocked.

Kru was rather happy with himself, the XMC substitute was more refined after the last tests, this one was far less likely to have any sudden nasty contractions, still he reasoned that it would be better not to tell Garett that he had been fitted with a muscle substitute that had even a small chance of suddenly contracting to a thousandth it’s normal length and rip his arm apart. It was rather a morally grey choice to make, but Kru didn’t feel too guilty. The only other choice with damage that severe would’ve been amputation.

“Ok.” Garett responded simply, not having the words or energy to voice any of his amplitude of emotions and thoughts. Garett watched with a reluctant fascination as the metallic-plastic looking fibres lengthened and shortened as he moved his hand about, clenching and unclenching his fist. He had to admit the muscles were not only functional but strong, he could feel their steely grip even in his clenched fist. At the border of the flesh and the XMC substitute they connected perfectly, there was no difference as he ran his fingers along the faultline. It was amazing how flesh like the XMC felt, but how different it looked. Seeing his puzzlement Kru explained,

“There’s a layer of biological synthetic skin over the XMC, stem cells” Kru explained,

“Also what we used to patch up the shallow burns on your left arm and head.” Garett continued feeling the arm as it moved, it was hypnotic to look at. He could see each individual stringlet of plastic-metal synthesis contract and expand with his every motion. He had no doubt it was interfaced with his nervous system.

“You should probably come to the cockpit now, hear where we’re headed.” Kru said with fake enthusiasm, his eyes giving nothing away.

“Ok” Garett repeated, getting up. Realising his jacket was missing he examined the room studiously, searching perhaps for it’s bundled form thrown in a corner. Instead he found pleasant surprise when he noticed it had been hung respectfully on the wall, smooth and not creased on a little pair of clothing hanging hooks he hadn’t previously noticed. Garett, despite his situation felt the beginnings of a smile coming on, because he couldn’t remember many of the pre surgery details he was glad to see that the jacket was mostly intact.

The arms of the jacket were a bit raggedy with seared holes scattered about them. As he held out the sleeve he noticed, as expected that the burns in the sleeve were aligned up with where the XMC substitute had replaced his flesh. All except for one piece of XMC substitute which extended beyond the burned mark in the sleeve, Garett reasoned that the searing plasma must’ve spread under the skin. Nonetheless it raised some suspicion, suspicion soon forgotten as he walked into the cockpit.

Around the small table sat the squad, without hearing his voice again or even seeing his coloured ID stripe he knew the dark skinned human to the left was Dunham. He knew dunham was human because of his facial hair, of the few traits that only humans held was beards. Of all the species that were similar to humans only humans had beards, an odd quirk of their biology, a pocket of biological primitiveness that by all rights humans no longer needed. Dunham’s now revealed face was easily matched to his voice. His chin in it’s entirety was encased in a short but thick black beard. His brow was furrowed by years of either laughter or grimacing, from what Garett knew about it him he suspected it was the former. Opposite of Dunham and to Garett’s right was Polar, or Pole as they called him.

Polar was a Herdiode, a very close to human race and a common one too. He had the larger upper forehead typical of his species, his herdiode nose was flat and the nostrils were instead replaced by two long canals, which could function as gills for underwater breathing in the oxygen rich oceans of Pluriomed, the home planet of the Herdiode. Dunham sat hunched over the table, elbows rested on knees and resting his head in his hands. Pole was laid back in the chair, observing Garett and Kru as they entered the room. Dunham perked up upon realising their entry, lifting his head to watch them take a seat.

Kru stopped motioned for Garett to take the seat directly ahead. Klaxon, who had been facing the window in her seat swiveled around to face Garett. Now Garett was in the centre of the group. He sat at the table, hands by his side and eyes glancing to and fro between them.

“So Garett,” Klaxon started once they were all seated.

“As you know there is no going back, not yet and perhaps not ever.” This was the news Garett dreaded. He was no idiot, he knew it already, but hearing someone else say it made it all the more real.

“That invasion was the largest one yet, and from the looks of things it was a planetwide siege. We haven’t yet contacted the ISPC command centre because they’ll suspect fraudulent play unless we broadcast from a verified outpost. We’re heading to Dedrea to do just that, and Perdua minor is nearby so we’re housing you at the Genidol refugee camp” Klaxon relayed to him.

“What?” Garett said vocalising his distress, bordering on anger. Perdua minor was what they called in official terms a “universal use” planet. What that really meant was a planet covered in prisons, refugee camps, mining or power production. Genidol was an infamous camp, even for a waste planet camp. High crime rate, almost no policing, starvation. It was a living nightmare. It made Garett’s very low middle class life seem like a life of glamour.

“You can’t send me there” He stammered in desperation.

“We can” Klaxon began for being interrupted by Dunham.

“It’s not as bad as the talk would have you believe” Dunham said reassuringly.

Klaxon gave Dunham a warning glance before looking back to Garett and continuing,

“We have no choice in the matter, as soon as we’re all ready the ship will exit the darkfield, we’ve already arrived at Perdua minor and once we’re out of the darkfield we’ll make arrangements for you.” Garett slumped back into his seat. Seeing the pitiful argument was complete, Klaxon turned back to face the task at hand.

Garett couldn’t believe the rapid shift his life had taken. From a scrapper to a refugee living on the kindness of others, and if Garett knew one thing it was that the kindness of others was the least reliable thing in the universe. He was facing a full scale breakdown. He had to hold himself together a while longer however.

Everyone but Garett stood, and went about their procedures for landing. Everyone except Dunham. Dunham walked over to Garett and put his hand on his shoulder.

“We’ll see each other again my friend” he said, sounding like he genuinely believed it. Garett forced a smile onto his face before replying,

“I’m sure we will”

“Dunham get over here” Klaxon shouted from the control console. Giving him a final shoulder pat Dunham said

“Looks like I’m needed” before walking off to join Klaxon. Once more Garett’s focus drifted, everything became blurred and distant.

He thought about how his life was shallow, how breathing had become a chore as of recent. How his lack of interaction had broken him, friendship seemed an impossible goal and love seemed unimaginable. He didn’t even know if he had ever loved anyone before. His very existence on Yujar was because of him running away from his problems, but it appeared his problems had come right back for him. He knew he couldn’t run away much longer on his tired and injured legs. He would have to face the monster of his own creation soon enough.

He was brought back into existence when the blackness of the darkfield outside was replaced by the looming presence of a planet. It was suspended in front of the violet blue of a distant nebula, It’s blue star was distant but glaring. It had vast grey oceans of liquid water, and one sprawling supercontinent that was currently half illuminated and half in the dark. They approached it by the second.

“Grenidol base, this is shuttle squad A34, do you receive?” The static crackled briefly before a reply.

“Yes we receive, what’s the situation?” Said a deep voice from the other end of the transmitter.

“Something big happened, You’ll hear about it soon enough, but we have a refugee needs dropping off. We’re coming in to leave him now, ETA seven minutes.” Klaxon said patiently.

“Where’s he from? From this big thing what happened?” The gruff voice replied.

“It’s above your chain of command rookie so stop asking. Make sure he’s well received” Klaxon replied with finality.

“Ok Sir.”

“Sir?” Klaxon questioned, not sounding particularly infuriated, the anger was more icy.

“S-sorry… m-ma’am” He replied nervously through the fuzzy sound. From Klaxon’s tone of voice that ETA, estimated time of arrival, might also be the man’s estimated time of death. The atmosphere swirled around them now, grey clouds were dispersed below and beautiful spacescape above them. They approached the planet’s daytime side. Details became more and more visible the closer they grew.

Signs of civilisation were visible now, criss crossing lines barely visible indicative of superways and hyperloop networks for industry that spanned the surface of the continent. They were headed to the northeastern tip of the continent were Grenidol refugee camp lay as a vast expanse of low cost housing. It was beyond the scale of anything that a single planet would ever need, but it was in fact a refugee camp for the collective galaxy. Right now Garett suspected it wasn’t very full. The entire planet of Yujar was under siege, the planet he had grown to appreciate, it was his home. Many others called it home and he suspected those many others would be turning up here soon, or on a more morbid note, they might not.

Soon the individual homes of the camp were visible, and to call them homes was a stretch. They were dark gray cubes, lined up in massive rows and grids. Every so often interrupted by a larger grey rectangular slab of a building which Garett knew would be the food ration collection buildings. Life itself was sparse on the desolate dusty streets. A few people trudged the streets, heading nowhere in particular.

From the cabin of the A34 squad’s shuttle the view was reminiscent of tiny insects scuttling about a bleak gray maze. Garett didn’t look favourably at the idea of being down there. How had it come to this? he asked himself. It all started being born to terrible parents in a terrible situation. He never really lived a normal life, he supposed he was destined to be born into and die into squalor. Now they had landed, their engines kicking up great plumes of black dust. The air was still once more as the engine purred into silence.

Garett stood slowly, giddy on his feet. Legs weak beneath him. He followed everyone to the door, it was a short silent march. He stood next to the warped and scarred wall that had deflected plasma onto him. The door hissed open once more, the last time he had been facing this open door it had looked to be his death. To either side of the corridor they stood. Dunham and Klaxon one side, Pole and Kru on the other. Outside the craft stood an overweight Tembrioth holding a clipboard, Garett reasoned this was the one Klaxon had been speaking to over comms. Pole and Kru saluted him. Dunham walked up and pressed something leathery into his hand before saluting him too. Garett gave Dunham a questioning look.

“Til we see you again, Garett.” Dunham said with conviction in his voice.

Feeling it not appropriate to stay a second longer he tried to simply walk out. Klaxon stepped in front of him, hand outstretched.

“I owe you this handshake at least” she said in a droll tone. He shook her hand and tried to hold his chin high as he walked out. Down the steel ramp and onto the brownish black stone below. He didn’t know any of them, but he felt he was losing something anyway. In his hands was clasped a leather pouch. His clothes on his back were truly the last thing that he held of his old life, and this warm wind was the standard weather even they would be rendered useless. The daytime sky was an amethyst blue and distant stars could still be seen twinkling. Garett’s gaze still searched the sky as the engines roared into life behind him.