Heart Of The Sun Read online

  “Keep it down, I’ll get a reputation.” He’s smiling, but there’s a certain sadness in his eyes too, telling of all the men he’s dated who never made it home.

  He’s not easy, he’s just unlucky. Maybe I can fill the void in his life. I’m not planning on dying any time soon. Alan doesn’t skip a beat. “Okay, you’re on. Observation deck, tonight?”

  “You got it.” Martin walks away, a certain spring in his step and he goes to attend to his duties and get a little rack time.

  Night time comes and Alan waits for his date to arrive. Martin is late as always and so Alan looks out at the stars. They always make me feel so small. Like the universe stretches on forever and I’m just a drop in the ocean. Hell, this whole war is just a skirmish in a tiny stretch of space. Perhaps galactic history won’t even remember our fateful first contact with another species or our two-hundred-year war. He puts his hand on the glass just as the door swishes open and Martin walks in.

  “I’m sorry I’m late,” Martin says. He looks a little ruffled, more than a little sad. His shields are down and Alan realizes for the first time that his usual happiness is just a front, a mask to hide a deep internal pain.

  “What’s the matter?” Alan asks, real concern building inside him.

  “I didn’t... I didn’t really ask you here... for a date,” Martin says.

  “Whoops. Well that was a blunder on my part.” Alan awkwardly scratches his neck.

  “I needed you to show up. I need somebody to talk to. Before I shove a gun in my mouth and pull the trigger.” That gets Alan’s attention. He guides Martin to a chair as though he might break and bids him to sit before sitting down beside him.

  “What happened?” Alan asks. I don’t even know where to begin. I’ve never had a life placed in my hands before. I mean, I have, out on the field, just never like this. I can make decisions, but this...

  “I know... you don’t have clearance,” Martin says, “but I can trust you. Earth has no more loyal pilot than you.” He shakes his head. “Down on Rinax One. There’s a base in the Purple Sands Desert. A Human base. It’s well hidden in a cliff. I used to be stationed there. Before here, I mean.” His nervous words come out in short stops and starts. “It’s a listening station. We listen to Karalian transmissions and decode them.”

  Alan nods. “Go on.”

  “About a year ago, a young Karalian wandered into the base. He was arrested, but he put up no struggle. He was in a terrible state. He said he was a fighter pilot who had crashed, but something didn’t add up. He seemed constantly terrified, as if he had been traumatized by something. He constantly cried out for a doctor, saying he was in pain. We had all our best doctors examine him, but apart from scratches and scrapes, he seemed perfectly well as far as we could tell. Then the next day, he started screaming, like he was in the most profuse agony. The doctors sedated him...” He broke off, suddenly looking pale. “Perhaps I shouldn’t tell you.”

  “Please, tell me, you’ll feel better,” Alan says. “Whatever it is, I can take it.”

  “I was guarding the medbay at the time, when they sedated him. When it happened. He just... split open, like he was being torn apart from inside. Inside there were all these worms, but the Karalian was still alive, begging to die. The doctors even threw up, and the commander signed a euthanasia order right then and there. It was a mercy, Alan. Those things... they were eating him inside. As he fell to sleep, he whispered that he was sorry. I don’t even know what for.” Tears were welling in his eyes.

  “That’s awful,” Alan says, fighting nausea. “What a terrible sickness. Did it come from Rinax’s desert?”

  “That’s the thing,” Martin says, a haunted expression on his face. “The doctors examined him after he died. They say the parasites don’t normally feed on mammals; that they were introduced somehow into the system. Intentionally. The way they targeted his vital organs in the most painful way possible made the doctors think that it was some kind of chemical weapon.” He reached for Alan, squeezing his shoulders. “I can’t believe we would do something like this, Alan! The government is always talking about how moral Humans are now, that we’ve left our bloody past behind us, that the only reason for this war is self-defense. That it’s the Karalians that are cruel and merciless. Then what the hell was that?”

  “Are you sure we did it?” Alan asks, thinking hard. “It could be some kind of Karalian weapon, accidentally released or even intentionally tested. They must have bases on Rinax too; he easily could have come from one of them.”

  “If it was theirs, why did all the files become classified right away?” Martin asks. “I tried to find information and every time I asked I was told that the incident never happened, that we never had a Karalian at the base. I know what I saw, Alan! A few months later, I was transferred here, put into the fighter pilot program. The program with the highest fatality rate. They want me dead, Alan! They want the last person to know about this to be space dust!”

  “That’s crazy talk and you know it,” Alan says. “It’s far more likely that they classified it to avoid panic. What do you think the people back home would say if they heard about a weapon like that? It would cause widespread fear. Earth has already survived a dozen attacks, some nuclear. Adding a biological threat for people to worry about is only going to make the situation worse.”

  “You know we’re not just sitting back and letting Karalia destroy Earth, Alan. I saw a lot of plans while I worked at the base. Plans to maybe nuke Karalia if this whole thing goes south. You think we won’t do whatever it takes to survive? You still think we’ve evolved past that?”

  “I have to believe that,” Alan says. “If I don’t, then this is just another pointless war, like all the ones throughout Earth history, born of a failure to communicate. No. They attacked us. They tried to invade Earth. We tried to help them with their problems, and they responded by nuking us. There’s a giant piece of our world that’s now uninhabitable, and why? Because it turns out one of our generals gave the wrong salute and offended the Karalian High Commander. Well, fuck that, and fuck you too, Martin. I know you’ve seen some terrible things, Hell, we all have. I have more blood on my hands than I care to admit. I’ve killed more Karalians and lost more friends than I can count. If there’s a Heaven than my soul’s been damned thrice over for the things I’ve done. That’s why I have to believe we’re on the right side of all this, and it’s going to take more than a few wishy washy claims backed up with conjecture to convince me otherwise.”

  “You don’t believe me?” Martin’s taken aback, Alan can see it in his eyes. He shrivels back in his seat, expression filled with regret. “I thought you of all people would understand, maybe look into it for me so I could get a good night’s sleep. You know what? Never mind. Never fucking mind. I’ll look into it myself. But I’ll tell you right now, if I get blown up out there, it’ll be your fault. Yours, and theirs. I don’t know why you want to all cover this up so badly. You could nuke Karalia into a wasteland and nobody would give a fuck after what they did to Earth.” He stands up and marches out, the door sliding shut behind him.

  Alan sits in the same spot, looking out at the stars. He’s crazy, right? We wouldn’t do such a thing. We’re long past the age where biological warfare was ever deemed acceptable. Right?

  Right?

  He goes back to his room and rolls into bed, eventually settling into a restless slumber. The doorbell chimes and he wakes, rolling over to see it’s four-thirty. Pulling on his pants, he staggers to the door and opens it.

  “Sir?” A mechanic stands at the door and salutes him.

  “At ease. What do you want at this hour?”

  “You’re the crew officer on duty yes? It’s Lieutenant Martin Avin, sir. He’s had an accident. He was working on his fighter when the jack came loose. The fighter fell and... it crushed him, sir. By the time we could get the thing off him, he was already dead. Medbay called it just a few minutes ago.”

  “Th... Thank you, Ensign. Dismissed.” Alan shuts the door again and walks back to his bed, slumping down on the edge of it. He lets his head sink into his hands.

  “So, you doing anything tonight?”

  “Are you asking me out on a date?”

  Foolish games, as if we were up here to play around and fall in love. Death stalks us every day. Only he knew it was stalking him. Alan shakes his head. I should have listened to him. Everything he said sounded crazy, but I still could have kept him safe, even if that meant keeping him in medbay for a psych evaluation. Instead I let him walk away. Let him walk to his death.

  An accident. It could be a coincidence, but those things have dozens of safety features built in. No, he was killed, but whether he did it himself or whether he was murdered is another matter. Still, who gets themselves squashed? Not exactly a nice way to go.

  But that means I’m entertaining what he told me. That we’ve really developed some kind of chemical weapon and there’s a cover-up going on. That he was murdered by somebody on this ship in order to keep a secret.

  Maybe there is. But he told the wrong man. I’ve long since sold my soul to this war. I’m not the man to start a revolution. I’m a warrior of my people, guardian of Earth. I’m here to fight for my home, my parents, and Chester. I have no desire to rock the boat. If it could be rocked. Martin was right about that, too. Few would care if we did use such a weapon. They only want the war to be over, and Earth to win. Survival is such a cowardly affair.

  And I’m a coward.

  So it was that Alan lie back down to sleep, filing away what Martin had told him. When he woke the next morning, he returned to his duties as if nothing had ever happened, and it was as if Death’s shadowy assassin had never even visited the Heart Of The Sun.

  Chapter Five

  On The Run

  Rinax One

  Day Four

  Alan awakens from his dream to the sound of a distant drop-ship. He reaches for his gun at once, and scrambles across the floor on his knees to where Vash is sleeping, shaking the Karalian awake.

  “Vash, come on! Wake up!”

  Vash remains unresponsive. I have to think fast, Alan realizes. They’ll be here soon. We need to be gone by then. If he’s not going to wake up, I’ll need to carry him.

  Alan tests Vash’s weight. Vash is surprisingly light to carry and Alan is grateful as he sets him down again. Supplies. We’ll need supplies. Can’t risk coming back here. He quickly grabs a bag and starts stuffing the cans and dried foods they had into it, along with blankets. He ties the gun around his waist. It’s big and unwieldy, but Alan knows he doesn’t want to travel across the desert unarmed. I remember Martin mentioning a Human facility in the desert. If we could somehow reach it, I could get treatment for Vash and perhaps go home. Back to the Heart Of The Sun. Vash could apply for asylum. It’s our best chance of survival. If we linger here, sooner or later we’ll be picked off by a commando team. I don’t want to face whatever fate they have lined up for us. He tries to push the memory of Vash’s near-rape away. I won’t let that happen. We have to get out of here. He looks up the Purple Sands Desert in the pile of maps they had ripped from the colonists’ books. This dot must be where we are now. It’s a day’s trip at most. It has to be worth a try.

  Satisfied that he has all he can carry, he slings the pack over his shoulders and picks Vash up. He leaves the facility and heads out into the forest, the rain pattering down on the trees and the ground around them. He can hear a drop-ship almost overhead and starts to hurry. Once we’re out in the desert, they’ll be able to see us from overhead. We need to stick to the trees as much as possible. He cuts through vines as he makes his way forward, resting every now and then to relieve himself of Vash’s weight. I can’t stop. I need to keep pushing on. If we’re going to cross the desert, we need to do it at night or we’ll be sitting ducks from the air.

  The day wears on and still he sees no end to the forest. Vines threaten to choke him from every angle and he slashes at them in desperation. He’s covered in cuts and gashes from a multitude of thorns, and he offers a silent prayer to the Gods that none of them are poisonous. Vash seems to feel heavier with every step, and the warmth of him only makes Alan sweat harder.

  He trips, going down hard. Vash falls from his arms and rolls into a pit of mulch and vines. Alan recovers and starts to crawl towards Vash when the vines begin to move, pulling Vash in like a fresh meal. That’s exactly what he is! Alan reaches for Vash and grabs his shirt, pulling on him desperately. He feels the material tear and moves to his arm instead, tugging with all his might.

  Vash stirs in the grip of the vines. Realizing his predicament, he reaches for his knife with his other hand and manages to free it. He hacks at the vines and they recoil, only for others to snake around him. He concentrates, channeling green light and setting the vines on fire. There’s a loud, piercing shriek as the vines let go and retreat into the ground. Alan rushes to Vash’s side as he staggers, reaching out for something to hang onto. Alan catches him as he falls.

  “Easy now,” Alan says. “I’ve got you. He touches Vash’s head to feel intense heat radiating from him. The fever’s getting worse. I’m guessing he shouldn’t have used his power again like that. He feels his own heart racing in his chest. I need to rest myself, but we can’t stop here. That thing could come back at any time, and the sound it made must have been heard for miles.

  He moves the pack around to the front of his body and picks Vash up on his back. It’s a little awkward at first since Vash is taller, but Alan soon finds it easier to make progress. By nightfall, he breaks through the vines and sees the open sky and purple sand before him.

  “We made it, Vash. To the desert at least.” He sets Vash down and opens the water bottle, lifting it to Vash’s lips and pouring it into his mouth.

  “I’m... sorry...” Vash says, half conscious. “Leave me... go on ahead...”

  “I can’t do that. I’m not going to leave you for the commandos. You saved my life.”

  “You saved... mine in return. The debt is... paid. No reason... for us to both die.”

  “It’s not about debt,” Alan says. “I want to help you. Besides, I don’t want to do this alone.”

  “Thanks.” Vash closes his eyes, and soon falls into a restful sleep. Alan feels his eyes closing against his will as he rests up against a tree, and soon he’s catnapping as well, one hand on his gun, one hand on his knife.

  He wakes three hours later. The Rinax night is still young, the rotation of the planet taking thirty-six hours instead of Earth’s twenty-four, and he’s grateful for that as he stretches out his aching limbs and lights his flashlight. He looks across at Vash in the low light. He seems to be sweating less now. Hopefully the fever’s going down and it’s not just the cold. There has to be a better way to get him across the desert.

  He looks around the the vines, and the loose branches of the leafless trees. Maybe if I lash some branches together with vines, I can make some kind of sled to pull him across the sand. It has to be worth a try.

  It took him another two hours to gather the vines and branches and put together the sled, but when he’s done he has a steady enough looking platform to lay Vash down on. He covers him with a blanket and ties two vines to the front, using them to pull the sled. It seems to glide easily over the purple sand and Alan soon puts the backpack on it too. He’s able to make much more headway through the night, even as he shivers from the intense cold. Occasionally he sees drop-ships swooping overhead. I bet they’ve found the bodies of the last commando team by now. They know Vash is here, and by morning they’ll be ready to launch a full scale search and destroy mission. We have to find the base tonight. When the sun comes up it’ll be too late.

  He’s hungry, but too tired to want food at the same time. He propels himself onward by thinking about the sleep he’ll get once they reach the base. There’ll be a hot shower waiting, and clean sheets, and the cafeteria food will taste like it’s fit for a king...

  Vash lets out a small moan, but Alan ignores him. The cliffs are close now, and he sees no sign of the base. That doesn’t mean it isn’t there. It’s probably well hidden. They won’t want the Karalians to know they have a listening post here.

  Vash lets out another moan. Alan looks behind him to see a group of figures following them at a distance. Tall figures. Karalian figures, Alan realizes. He pulls his gun from his belt, readying himself for a fight. We’ll lose, of course. There’s too many of them. How did they find us? They must have tracked my sled marks through the desert. Damn it. How long have they been tracking us? Perhaps they wanted to see where we would go. Perhaps it’s a good thing we never found the base. At least the listening post hasn’t been compromised.

  Vash pulls himself to unsteady feet, anxious not to die without some kind of a fight. He draws his knife from its sheath, but it’s simply a ritual at this point, since Vash is finding it hard even to stay standing.

  The commandos, knowing they have been spotted, abandon stealth and swarm into view. Alan and Vash find themselves surrounded, and take up position guarding each others’ backs. Our last stand, Alan realizes. They’ve seen what we did to their men. They will take no prisoners.

  “I thank you, Alan,” Vash says quietly. “You have shown me that Humans can be creatures of honor. I go to the Beyond richer for that knowledge.”

  “You’ve taught me the same about Karalians,” Alan responds. “I’m sorry I couldn’t get you to the base.”

  “You have nothing to be sorry for.” Vash’s voice is quiet, laced with emotion. He steps forward and Alan feels his departure.

  “I will not be dishonored by you... or anyone else,” Vash yells to the commandos, his breathless voice filled with pride. Sweat is dripping from his face and his eyes are bloodshot. “I was born kast’ka. I will die as such, a free man.” He raises his knife. It glimmers in the flashlights of the commandos and he draws it to his throat.