Chapter 14

The light receded with each step on the dirty sidewalk. The apartments stretched upward, swallowing whatever meager rays of sunlight had broken through the overcast sky. A raindrop landed on her face, threatening the arrival of a downpour. She clutched her books as a pang of dread struck her chest.

Some of the older kids had taken her backpack again. She did her best to stay out of sight and keep quiet but sometimes they still ran into her. No, they found her. They made it their business to find her. If she was lucky, she would just get shoved and called names. If she wasn’t, they’d beat her and take something.

Hey half-ass, heading home to your shithole apartment? Don’t walk away when I’m talking to you. Nice bag. Haven’t you had this ratty shit since you got here? Maybe it’s time your dad got you a new one. I’m sure he can afford it, right?

They threw the bag onto a lamp post, letting her books and homework tumble into the street. She tried for hours to get it down but stopped after a nasty fall tore a bloody gash across her arm. Defeated, she had gathered up her books and headed home. Now the rain was coming, and if she didn’t get back fast enough it would ruin her things.

Reclamation Academy, or the wreck, as everyone called it, was among the least funded schools in the city, probably on all of Lone Star. Students had to buy their own books. If you couldn’t afford the reading material, you couldn’t go to school. If you couldn’t go to school, someone would come and take you to the Child Welfare Institute.

One of her classmates was taken away last year; he got bullied too. It didn’t matter if everyone around her wore old clothes or ate the cheapest dehydrated lunch, someone would always make fun of the poorest kids. Her dad told her it was because the bullies were afraid and that they were trying to make themselves feel stronger than they were. They never seemed afraid to her.

She ran up the exposed stairs, shielding the delicate papers from the rain that flew in past the railing. When she reach her floor, her foot caught on a crack in the concrete. Fighting the reflex to fling her arms out and catch herself, she gripped the books in a tight bear hug and landed hard on the ground. The impact sent a fresh wave pain through her shoulder but she quickly sprung to her feet, fearful of the wet walkway. She fished a key out of her pocket as she approached her apartment, thankful that she hadn’t kept it in her backpack. The door swung open with a metallic whine and she hurried into the gloomy space.

Books in one arm, she tapped the lamp on the kitchen table. It didn’t light up much of the room, but the light was free. Her dad would take it to work and charge it in the sun. One of the few things they can’t bill you for, he’d say. She shuffled a pile of receipts to the side of the table and set her things down.

The plop of the dripping faucet broke through the din of the pouring rain. She walked to the kitchen sink, turned the handle, and washed the wound on her arm. As the diluted blood ran down her skin, her eyes fell and landed on a tear midway down her pants. With a sigh, she dried her arm with a dirty kitchen towel and pulled out the sewing kit from the dwindling pantry.

The lid popped open revealing a few rattling needles and some empty spools. She snapped the box shut and walked to her father’s room. He kept some thread in a shoebox in his closet. It wouldn’t be the grey she needed for her pants, and she would be made fun of for it, but the jeers from her classmates would be worse if she walked in with torn clothes.

Dull light spilled in from the tiny window at the end of the hall, barely pushing the shadows to the corners. She paused, noticing her father’s shoes tucked neatly beside his door. He never came home early; work kept him until after dark, even on the days she had off. She crept forward and spotted a folded paper tucked in one of the shoes. Something creaked inside the room as she bent to pick it up.

Her eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness of the windowless room. The outlines of the sparse furniture took shape and grew solid. She reached up to turn on the light but paused when the creaking sound came again. Stepping inside, the image grew sharper; something was moving. The paper fell from her fingers when she noticed two feet swinging gently above the bed.

“Was your friend injured after we split up back aboard the station?” Annie McClue asked. “Another monster?

“No. Not like that one,” Adam said, kneeling beside Odybrix.

“Another kind then?”

“I don’t know!”

“Sorry for all of the questions. It’s my job and, well, what happened was...”

“A lot,” Vesper said, jumping in. “You all fought very bravely. Especially you,” she said to Buddy.

“Did I?” Buddy asked.

“You were nearly bitten in half, then you crawled into a damaged mech, and shredded the thing that mauled you with heavy artillery. That’s rad.”

“I’m inclined to agree,” Sturdy said from medical.

“‘Buddy the brave’ has a nice ring to it,” Hilde chimed in over comms. “Sad that I missed it—the fight, not your mauling. You all must really consider getting me a drone to upload into. I’m designed for more than just ship-to-ship combat.”

“We’ll consider that after the upcoming medical bills.”

“Speaking of that, when will she wake up?” Adam asked Jim.

“I do not know for certain,” Jim replied. “Odybrix’ external injuries are non-critical and have been treated adequately-”

“You’re welcome,” Sturdy said from medical.

“But while BOB occupies the med table, I am unable to initiate internal diagnostics.”

“But you have a diagnosis, right? Is she in a coma?” Adam asked, leaning over the halfling.

“I ca-”

Odybrix jolted up with a start and slugged Adam in the chin, sending him tumbling on the floor.

“I can confirm she is not in a coma,” Jim said.

“Oh, gods,” Odybrix said, holding a hand to her temple, “my head feels like it was tossed out an airlock.”

“Yeah,” Adam said, rolling into a sitting position and rubbing his cheek, “mine too.”

“Sorry, kid. Oh fuck, how’s BOB?” Odybrix asked, looking around the room.

“BOB’s body is in stasis until we are able to transfer them to a better-equipped facility. As for you, you have substantial internal trauma and are likely suffering from POS.”

“Plasma overdrive system?” Adam asked.

“Point of sale?” Buddy offered.

“Piece of shit?” Odybrix said.

“Psionic overuse syndrome” Jim corrected. “Utilizing psionics for extended periods or pushing the boundaries of their capabilities without rest can lead to neurodegeneration, cardiovascular collapse, hemorrha-”

“Take a nap, got it,” she said, rising to her feet with a groan. “You alright, Buddy?”

Buddy lifted her head from the mat where she was lying and gave a thumbs up. “My spine’s just a little broken. I’ll be okay.”

“That’s the spirit,” Odybrix said, stepping into the med bay.

BOB lay flat on the table, exposing the savage vertical tear the beam blade had left. A subtle azure hue lit up the wound as the stasis field worked to hold BOB’s insides together. Odybrix scowled at the sight of her injured comrade but softened to see Sturdy diligently monitoring them. He locked eyes with her and she gave him a nod, then turned her chin to indicate she wanted the room. When he left she placed a hand on BOB’s chassis.

“You’re a mess,” she said, running her fingers across the stripe BOB had decorated themself with. “We’re going to get you some help, then we’re going to get the fuckers that did this to you. Hang in there, okay? What the hell would I do if I lost the galaxy’s best coffee machine?”

Odybrix stifled the tears before they came, pushing the sadness down until it was buried under a fresh layer of anger. She made enemies easily—there were assholes aplenty among the stars—but friendship came much harder. Harlow and Vaelor ascended her shit list like a rocket breaking through the atmosphere. There were only two people in the universe she hated more.

“A ‘nap’ isn’t a bad idea,” Adam said from the hold. “We’ve got days of flight ahead of us. We all need to recover, decompress.”

“Any time spent not being shot or mauled is a blessing,” Hoxley said. “The sooner we get to bed, the sooner I can wake up and make us breakfast. Is Buddy okay to go to her bunk?”

“Yes,” Jim said, “Adam, please assist her to bed.”

“I can do it,” Hoxley said.

Jim looked at Hoxley. Then Adam. Then Buddy. Then Hoxley again.

“For the patient’s stability, Adam is optimal.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Hoxley asked.

“It means Adam’s built like a forklift,” Zenith said over comms.

“And you’re built more like a fork,” Odybrix continued. “Or a spoon. A little spoon.”

“And not a metal one,” Zenith added.

“Plastic, definitely,” Odybrix concluded.

Hoxley gave a tired glare and Odybrix said, “Besides, your dog is giving her stink eye.”

“Beast and Buddy just need to spend more time together.”

“We’ll both do it,” Adam said, clapping Hoxley on the shoulder. “We can discuss next steps after sleep. Ozzy, can you or the other AI send me an alert if BOB’s condition changes.”

“You got it, boss,” Ozzy said, “Go get some shut-eye.”

Zenith watched the stars bend and slip away like an image passing through a glass. The bubble of space-time distortion created by the mass reversion engine was a comfort to her. She had stared out at the passing stars for hours when she was a child, lost in thoughts about distant worlds and strange new people. Though, if she asked herself now, it wasn’t the nostalgia she took solace in, it was how nothing could touch her or the crew while the bubble was wrapped around them.

“You going to bed, ZT?” Ozzy asked.

“I’m going to stay up for a bit,” she said, adjusting herself to get comfortable, “I’ll sleep in the cockpit when I feel the need.”

“I hear that’s bad for your back.”

“You just want the chair for yourself.”

“I’m an incorporeal presence, ZT.”

“Sure, sure. Pretend this isn’t the best spot on the ship.”

“It is, but I still think you need a good night’s sleep after-”

“I’m fine, Ozzy. I like it here. It relaxes me. Why don’t you get some sleep.”

“I’ll get right on that after I grow a body.”

“You’re probably overdue.”

“For a nap or a body?”

“Nap,” she said, yawning. “You’ve earned it. Maybe one day we’ll have enough credits to spring for an android blank and you can try the chair out.”

“Hah, I’m content with what I got. Goodnight, ZT.”

“Night.”

The stars flew overhead, briefly slowing, enlarging, then zipping out of sight. Zenith let some of the trauma of the day go with them, but couldn’t escape what had happened. Her brother nearly killed BOB—nearly killed her. She wanted to believe that he held back his attack for her and that there was still some love there, but what if this was who he was now? What if...

A red light pulsed as warnings lit up her console. The emergency klaxon began to blare just as the Sunrunner was violently knocked out of rev-space. Zenith’s head flew forward and her helmet smashed against the central panel, cracking both. She cursed and strapped herself into the seat, trying to make sense of what happened. Every alarm possible seemed to be going off: hull breach, MRE failure ... chem leaks.

“Ozzy, what the fuck happened?”

The AI didn’t answer.

“Ozzy? Anyone?! What’s going on back there?”

She tapped the console and tried to engage manual controls, but the ship didn’t respond.

“Fuck.”

She unstrapped herself and knelt under the console, popping open its access panel with a grunt. The circuitry was mostly fried.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!”

She scrambled up and ripped a tech kit off the wall by the cockpit door. Something caught her eye just as she pulled out the soldering iron. For a moment she thought they had re-entered rev-space. The stars bent and warped, but they were hardly moving. The Sunrunner veered starboard and the source of the phenomenon came into view.

As Zenith stared into the insatiable void of the black hole another warning popped up—not from the ship, but her helmet. The words “containment breach” pulsed red on the display and an acrid smell spread through the helmet. In seconds, her nostrils started burning, then her eyes. The noxious vapour hit her throat and she began coughing uncontrollably. Every hack and rasp meant to expel the gas only brought it deeper inside her.

A horrible pain lanced through her neck and she tore off her helmet. Staggering towards the window she caught a glimpse of her reflection. Bloodshot eyes stared back at her, framed by a pallid and desiccated face. Just below her chin, a hole had opened in her neck. The rot spread from her exposed throat, silencing a scream and replacing it with a choking burble. Her mother’s face flashed in her mind and her vision went black.