Subduction

Nobody can hear a scream in the vacuum of space, or so they say. I screamed anyway. I screamed even as my throat shred into painful hoarseness.

My body somersaulted in an uncontrolled tumble through space. With each spin the dark void between me and my ship grew. And I screamed all over again.

This isn’t happening!

The terror was surreal. The crushing reality of helplessness in the face of certain doom was unknown to me. In my experience there is always an option. Yet I flailed my arms and legs like a newborn, clutching and kicking powerlessly at the nothingness. It was so damn futile.

They did this to me!

“Calm down, Renley,” the flat voice crackled in my ear, “you’ll waste your oxygen.”

It was Daile. Deadpan, dispassionate—treacherous—Daile. He did this to me. The bastard killed me. My screams gurgled into a frantic panting, rough and loud in my helmet.

“Don’t do this, Daile,” my voice was hoarse, unfamiliar, and I banged my helmet with my fists in frustration, “they are wrong, and you know it!”

Silence.

My stomach heaved, adrenaline making me nauseous. The certainty of choking on my own puke brought the sanity I needed. Stop the spin, my heart pounded, get control.

I pawed at my body, looking for something, anything, to save my ass. The exo-suit was stabilized, but my utility belt was gone. All the tools to help in situations like this were taken from me. Taken by pirates, I raged bitterly, before forcing their captain to metaphorically walk the plank.

The soft bundle in my breast pocket was unreachable, but secure, pressing against the inside of my suit. It felt as though it were moving, but that was only my hysteria and momentum. I had to clear my head.

I latched onto my anger, trying to calm the chaos, to temper the panic. But with every revolution, the sleek shape of Sleipnir grew increasingly distant.

“Eighty million, Renley,” Daile’s soft, flat voice echoed loudly in my helmet. “That thing is worth eighty million…and you were going to give it away? For what? Reputation? Glory?” The last word was mocking.

I closed my eyes. I’ve heard this before. This need to justify one’s actions to oneself. Along the Uncharted Rim survival was a privilege. A hard-earned, coveted privilege. There was never enough to go around, so people made hard choices. Selfish choices that haunted the moral conscience.

I just never expected to hear this crap from Daile. Practical, sensible—double-crossing—Daile. The son of a bitch put me in this suit just so I’d live long enough to listen to his pathetic vindication.

“It’s an end to the war. It needs to go to GAAL, the galactic agency will know how to…”

“Three kids!” Daile’s emotional flare stopped me. It was so alien. “Three kids, Renley, and we haven’t been paid well in months. What does potential peace matter when my family is starving right now?”

“We can fix that. The Castor job…”

“That pissant never has a job worth taking, we come out worse than going in,” his tone was dull now, and bitterly resolute.

Was I that self-absorbed? How did I miss this?! My chest was starting to burn, an itch that was increasingly distracting. My system was overloading from the experience.

“The Jadissak want it, to control the truth I suppose. I don’t really care so long as they give me the bars.”

Eighty million in platinum bars. I wanted to punch something. Even after sharing it with the Sleipnir’s—lying, mutinous—crew, Daile would have enough to resettle his family in safety among the Inner Systems. The temptation was real.

“This could save millions of lives, don’t do this,” I knew it was hopeless, even as the weak plea left my mouth.

There was silence for a long moment. Then, “giving it away won’t save my family, but selling it will.”

His voice was breaking up now, fading as my ship moved out of range. I felt sweat…or maybe it was a tear...drip down my face.

My body itched all over now, a slow spread of burning discomfort creeping across my skin. Adrenaline, frustration, outrage, whatever it was, it was uncomfortable.

“You have no one, Renley, I doubt you’d ever understand. Make your peace, buddy, and I’ll make mine. You should’ve put your crew first.”

I realized I could no longer see the Sleipnir. I had to keep him talking.

Don’t leave me alone!

“I thought I had you,” I muttered, my breath ragged. “We were going to save the universe.”

He laughed bitterly, the sound distorted by distance, and spoke again. I ignored him and patted at my chest, searching for the familiar bundle. All I could feel was that damnable itching, the bundle was gone! No, I thought in frantic denial, it was there. I know it's there. And why is my skin burning?

“What did you do to my suit, Daile?” I snapped, interrupting his righteous speech. I squirmed uncomfortably, but it did nothing to ease the pain.

“What are you talking about? I didn’t…” his voice cut off. I could hear someone talking urgently to him. Beckem, or maybe Mikhael, I couldn’t tell. Truth, I didn’t care. The fiery sensation was getting worse, like tongues of flame crawling under my skin, licking my flesh from the inside. On the Sleipnir, Daile was yelling, the words indistinguishable in my pain.

“What did you do?!”

It took a moment to realize the question was directed at me and, even in my distress, I grinned in smug satisfaction.

“What did you do, Renley?! What did you do?!”

I grinned, feeling it was more of a sneer. “I put your eighty million in my pocket,” the words were a groan, seeping through my agony. My body was thrashing helplessly now, drifting in the nothingness of space. “If you want it, come get me.”

“You took it out of the case?! What were you thinking?!”

I was thinking that it was too exposed. I was thinking that someone might steal it. I just never expected that ‘someone’ would be my first officer. I didn’t say any of it out loud though, serpents of fire were creeping up my neck.

“Renley, you stupid, impulsive…that was an incubator you dumb cuck, not just some fossil with alien DNA. It was an egg! You opened Pandora’s Box!”

I froze, suddenly realizing what must’ve happened.

No! NO! Nononononononono! I clawed at my neck and helmet in fresh panic. The thickly gloved fingers futilely clutching at cloth specifically designed not to snag or tear. I either broke the damned thing, or the alien egg hatched, either way, whatever it was, it was now inside me. I could feel it, wrapping around my organs and settling in snuggly. My body was on fire.

I started screaming, and this time, nothing would calm me down.