Slave World 2 - The Ties That Bind (17 page)

I’ll tell you what, why don’t you take a nap for awhile. Besides, I think we’ll be doing things more suited to my tastes, than yours.

Okay… just, don’t forget about me, please? I don’t want to sleep too long.

Of course not. I’ll wake you as soon as things start getting better, promise.

The cramped, two-passenger shuttle had been used and abused over the years, and the low rental fee fit the quality one would expect from it. The environmental control system was acting up again for the fourth time in six hours, and the air quickly grew thick with the smell of unwashed bodies. The rising temperature only amplified the odor, fueling the occupant’s short tempers.

“We’re not going to find him, Wroth. This is bullshit and you know it.” Sandra ‘Snake’ Fullerton said, blowing a bead of sweat from the tip of her nose. Her normally vibrant red hair looked dull and ratty now, and she pushed a sweaty, stray lock back into place over her ear.

“Yes we will. I told you my friend detected a faint signal in this vicinity before it disappeared. He’s out here somewhere, I can feel it.”

“You’re so full of shit it’s leaking out your ears. He’s dead. Whatever ‘secret’ signal you’re talking about is gone! We still have millions of square parsecs of search grid to go through, and he’s been out here for what, almost two weeks? Besides, no one can survive that long in a suit.”

“The Colonel can, nothing can kill him, Snake, I know.”

She turned in her seat glaring contemptuously at Sergeant Major (Ret.) James Wroth. His face was drawn and exhausted, and the dim, radiant lighting of the cockpit gave his greasy skin a pale, unhealthy glow. Combined with several days’ growth of salt and pepper whiskers and the deep bags under his eyes, he would have easily passed for a corpse.

“You superstitious old bastard; you really believe that shit, don’t you?”

Wroth looked back at her with a flat, unblinking stare.

“You’ve killed enough people to know the answer to that; you know exactly what kind of punishment the human body can take, even with an active nanite dispenser. He should have been dead more times than I can remember. He’s alive out here somewhere, and we’re going to find him.”

Snake growled in frustration, smashing her fist down on the cracked, padded armrest. Her thick brogue accent grew more pronounced the madder she became.

“He’s lucky, that’s all! I can’t believe you actually buy into that immortality crap like some awe-struck recruit. I’m tired of wasting my time out here for nothing. I’m tired of dealing with your goat-smelling ass for the last week. I’m tired--”

“And I’m tired of listening to your constant whining and bitching! Nobody is that lucky Snake, nobody! I was soldiering before you were a stain on the sheets in a cheap motel room, so don’t tell me about luck! If anything, the Colonel is unlucky. How many times have you seen someone take a burst of plasma fire in the chest and live to tell about it, let alone continue leading an assault? How many times have you seen someone survive not one or two, but fourteen fucking drop ships shot out from under them! How many times have you seen someone turned into a human torch from a flamer malfunction and be back on duty in two days? How many times have you seen someone’s self-destruct fail to detonate while the fucking bugs where carving them up for dinner? How many times…”

“Shut up already, I get the fucking point! All hail the immortal Colonel Nathan Burke, and all that shit!”

“Let me tell you something; he may be able to die, but nothing can kill him.” Wroth lowered his voice to barely a whisper. “Besides, you owe him. He stuck his neck out for you plenty of times when everyone else wanted to put a rope around it.”

“I don’t owe that asshole anything. He kept me around because I was the best at what I did. I got the job done, and that’s the only reason.”

“Maybe so, but you owe him. You could still be sitting in Ellensburg prison for murder, counting fucking rocks after that little incident back on—”

“Don’t say it, don’t even go there! You know damn well that wasn’t my fault, I was only following orders.”

“You keep telling yourself that, and maybe one day you’ll believe your own lie. He covered your ass and you know it, end of story.”

“Go fuck yourself, you old fossil,” Snake growled in a low voice of surrender, turning back to her controls. She knew Wroth was right.

Several hours passed while Snake continued to grumble under her breath, maneuvering the small shuttle from one grid to the next. After the sweep came back negative, just like all the others, Wroth would mark it off the navigation display, blacking it out. At least the environmental unit started working again to help ease the brewing stench inside the shuttle.

“I’ve got something, Snake, make your heading 301-74-15.” Wroth was glued to the sensors now, with a flicker of excitement glowing in his eyes.

“It’s probably just another glitch or ghost image; these sensors are crap. Try tapping on the screen, or better yet maybe it’s another derelict satellite or piece of space junk like the last hundred times. This shit is getting—”

“Don’t start with me again; just change course like I told you to. It’s not interference this time, I’ve got something solid. Didn’t the Colonel pay you already?”

“Yeah but…”

“Then shut up and earn your keep.”

“You and I are going to have a talk when this one’s over with,” Snake snarled under her breath, changing course.

“Whenever you feel ready to step up to the plate and take a swing, just let me know. I’ll be waiting. New contact bearing eight thousand kilometers dead ahead. Bring us in closer so I can get a visual, these sensors are about as worthless as my first wife.”

The distance slowly closed, and an object came into view slightly off to port.

“It’s an environmental suit.”

“Shit. Another waste…”

“No, it hasn’t been out here that long. Look, no thermal scouring yet. I have another contact bearing 304-54-37. It’s metal whatever it is.”

For the next forty-five minutes, Snake and Wroth found random pieces of survival gear, following them like a trail of breadcrumbs. Even Snake couldn’t hide her excitement now, these were by far the most promising leads they’d had yet.

“What do you think happened, Wroth? All this gear floating around out here reminds me of a hull breach or something.”

“No, I saw the shuttle when it landed and it was intact. Hatch malfunction would be my guess.”

“Still doesn’t make sense though; the shuttle blasting its way out of the port like that? What do you…?”

“New contact bearing 312-55-4, range twenty-thousand kilometers. It’s…holy shit … it’s a biological organism! I told you, I fucking told you he was alive!”

“The signal doesn’t look right though, it’s too weak and intermittent to be a human. It’s got to be a glitch.”

“It’s not a glitch, it’s the Colonel. Bring us in closer.”

The signal continued to fade in and out, almost disappear entirely at times. Snake shook her head in disgust.

“I still think you’re full of shit. It doesn’t look right. If that’s Burke, then I’ll kiss that wrinkled old ass of yours in front of a crowd of…”

“You better pucker up now then, because I have an active emergency beacon transmitting from that location. Range twelve thousand kilometers.”

“Shit.”

Wroth let out a loud whopping laugh, reaching over to slap her heavily on the shoulder.

“What’s wrong? I’ll wash it first, scouts honor. Been a long time since I’ve had a girl kiss my ass, and I’m looking forward to it. I may even make a video of it, you know, like a souvenir to remember our good times together.”

A low growl echoed deep from Snake’s chest, barely coming out as words.

“Don’t fucking push it. If you think I’m really going to...”

“I have a visual on him. Bring us in so I can make the pickup.”

“Roger.”

Snake slowed the shuttle’s velocity, moving closer, as the form of a man floating aimlessly in an environmental suit grew larger in the view screen.

“Matching speed.”

The shuttle came along side the suit, and Snake turned on a spotlight bathing it in light. It had numerous grayish lumps covering its surface, self-sealing breech foam that the suit produced in the event of a puncture.

“Looks like a couple of small meteorites ripped through him. I count five possible entry wounds. See that one near his hand? I’m willing to bet that’s why we lost the com-link signal,” Wroth said heavily.

“Jesus, look at him. If he’s still alive I’ll suck your...”

Wroth cut her off with a sly grin. “Careful, Snake, you may get more than you bargained for this time, a mouthful in fact.”

“You’d like that wouldn’t you, you dirty old pervert? You’re what, twice my age?”

“Probably, but someone has to teach the younger generation how things are done. Trust me, if I didn’t hate your guts I would give you a night to remember. You would be barking like a bowlegged dog, and sweating like a five credit whore on payday by the time I was finished with you.”

“Well, the feeling is mutual. You’re sick, you know that? You have some serious issues that even therapy couldn’t fix.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been told that, and therapy is overrated. Been there, done that.”

“Maybe he is unlucky? You know what the odds are of taking multiple meteorite hits in open space? There’s no way he’s alive though, no goddamn way, not after that.”

Snake shook her head looking at the dead man floating beside the shuttle. Wroth unbuckled his flight harness, and his lanky 6’4 frame was forced to hunch over in the tight confines of the cockpit, as he shimmied his way past Snake

“Just keep your course steady, I’m going out to get him.”

Within minutes of Wroth’s departure, the airlock open alarm beeped in her headphones.

“Damn that was fast,” she muttered with a note of admiration in her voice. A few moments later she saw Wroth float lazily by the view screen tethered to a safety line. From her perception he was horizontal with his hands under his head like he was sleeping. Wroth stretched as if waking up from a peaceful night’s sleep, before scratching lazily at his groin. Snake couldn’t help but laugh at his childish antics.

“Morning, sunshine, is the coffee done yet?” Wroth’s voice crackled through her headset.

“Stop messing around and just get the Colonel.”

“Not a morning person, huh? Oh well…” He gave her a thumbs up gesture, gliding closer to his target.

“Crazy old bastard… That man definitely has a few screws loose somewhere.”

Within ten minutes he had Burke’s body back on board and the hatch sealed behind him. Snake didn’t trust the autopilot anymore than she did the other systems of the shuttle, but she had to see for herself, she had to see if Burke was actually alive or not. She stood on stiff legs, rolling her shoulders and arching her back. She winced, hearing it crack.

Wroth was still in the airlock hatch with his back to her, stowing his suit, dressed in a faded green service issue tee shirt and pair of briefs. She paused for a moment, eyeing him from head to toe. Not bad, she thought whimsically, a bit on the thin side for his height, but what he did have was all muscle. Not to mention a nice, tight ass.

“Well?”

“Don’t know yet, give me a minute. Go grab the porta-doc while I finish stowing this monkey suit.”

When she returned with the briefcase size container from the emergency cabinet, Wroth was kneeling over the prone body, beginning to undress him. The corridor was small and she couldn’t see well, straining to look over Wroth’s shoulder as he unbuckled the clasps on the torso section. He leaned back sharply, stifling a cough, and Snake brought a hand to her mouth feeling the urge to vomit despite years of exposure to the smell of death.

“Goddamn, Wroth… What the fuck is in there? It smells worse than you do.”

“Blood, sloughed off tissue, vomit, shit, you name it, high dosage radiation will do that to a person, and the suit recycler crapped out a week ago by my guess. By the looks of it he didn’t get the suit on until after he was in space, burned him up bad, worse than a char broiled steak.”

“Of course, he looks bad, what do you expect for someone who’s been rotting for two weeks cocooned up like that?”

“He’s not dead, Snake, give me the porta-doc.”

“What?”

Wroth continued to strip Burke out of his suit as gently as possible, exposing yet more of his blackened, blood covered body. Several deep pucker wounds marked his shoulder and chest, and one in particular, on his side, was by far the worse. All of them were still oozing blood and pus.

“This is fresh blood and a
corpse doesn’t bleed. Look at the meteorite wounds!”

“I know that but…that’s… that’s impossible. He can’t be alive, not after… he would have run out of air at the very least.”

“I don’t know how he did it either. I’ll check the air supply and do a diagnostic on the suit in a minute. Looks like most of the meteors broke up when they hit the bone laminate- there’s bits and pieces of it everywhere.”