22

Revelation

Carrie raced into Doc’s examination room. He was sitting by the autoanalyzer at the end of the room, a vial of fluid in his hand, reading an e-file intently.

“Doc! Quick!” she called frantically.

He looked up at her, startled.

“Louis and Carter are dead!” she panted.

“What?” He shot up from his seat and ran toward her. “What the fuck happened?”

“They were chasing after Grolsh. Chet and Logan ambushed them,” she said as they headed for the door.

“Fuck! Where are the others?”

“They’re going after them. McKinley took out Grolsh.”

As they stepped into the corridor, on approach to the flight deck, they suddenly saw Bolkov wrestling with someone up ahead.

Someone they didn’t recognize.

They both pulled up quickly and took out their guns.

“DON’T MOVE!” Doc yelled.

The man looked over at them, rammed Bolkov into the wall and then pulled him in front as cover. They saw Bolkov’s side was covered in blood and his gun was on the floor meters away from him. Carrie tried to take aim, but it was too difficult as Bolkov was too big. Both she and Doc moved in a careful but quickened pace toward them, guns out front.

“I SAID DON’T MOVE,” Doc yelled again.

As they passed the mess hall door, something grabbed Carrie’s ankle and she tripped over. She fell flat on her stomach, forcing the air from her lungs, and her pistol went flying. She didn’t get the chance to see what it was, but something or someone quickly grabbed her feet and pulled her backward toward the doorway. Doc turned suddenly, let off three quick shots, and Carrie felt a heavy weight collapse upon her. She rolled over and saw it was yet another man she didn’t recognize. She tried to heave the heavy body off her, and Doc quickly kicked out his leg to help, keeping his gun on Bolkov’s attacker. She flashed the lieutenant a startled look, then scrambled forward to get her gun.

As they looked back toward Bolkov and the other man, she saw that they had each other by the throat. Bolkov, roaring as he did, suddenly smashed his fists down heavily on his opponent’s arms, releasing them from his neck. He swiftly stepped aside and the second he did, several shots rang out, forcing both Carrie and Doc flat back against the walls. The attacker’s chest exploded, and he slowly fell forward to reveal Packham standing there, gun fixed firmly on the man.

Carrie quickly turned around to check the corridor behind them. No-one. They continued forward as Bolkov suddenly collapsed to his knees. Doc ran up and caught him, and sat him back against the wall between the captain’s office and the flight deck. Bolkov looked down at his side. He was bleeding profusely from his wound, a river of blood flowing onto the floor.

“Jesus, we gotta get you to the hospital, Bulk,” Doc said nervously, placing his hand over it.

“Is not good, Doc.” Bolkov winced, as the color drained from his face. “Is too deep.”

Carrie saw a large, gaping slash all the way down his side, exposing the red flesh beneath. For a moment she saw something protruding from the wound, before Doc quickly pushed whatever it was back inside and tried to close the gap. The lieutenant glanced over at the other man on the floor.

“Who did this? I don’t see a knife?” he asked quickly.

Bolkov motioned into the flight deck. Carrie looked past Packham and saw yet another man lying dead on the floor.

“Fuck,” she said, “how many more are there?”

“How the hell did they get on board?” Doc asked.

Packham stepped forward, her voice trembling. “They just opened the door! Bulk saw a warning light up on the console, alerting us that someone was entering the ship. We knew it wasn’t the team. But they knew the code to get on! Bulk went to check it out and they were there … at the flight deck door!”

Bolkov grabbed at Doc’s hands that were holding his wound together. “Is not good, Doc … is okay … let go,” Bolkov said, nodding his head at Doc, the sweat shining across his pale face.

“No, Bulk. I need to stop the bleeding.” Doc stared firmly at him.

“I tell you, is no good. You’re prolonging inevitable … is no good … please.”

Doc shook his head. “I can’t do that, sergeant. I won’t do that!”

Bolkov grabbed hard at the medic’s hands, face clenched, as he mustered all his strength and tore them away. His eyes rested on Doc’s as he panted, “Even in death … I am strong.”

Doc stuck his hand on Bolkov’s shoulder and squeezed it, his eyes staring firmly into his. “Bulk, don’t do this. Let me try and help. Please, let me try …”

“I took one of them out … I am happy.” Bolkov’s eyes began to blink slowly, heavily.

Carrie looked down at the blood spilling across the floor from Bolkov’s side. Trying hard to steady the vigorous shaking that was taking over her body, the three of them remained silent, as Bolkov, slowly, quietly, died.

Doc exhaled loudly, bowing his head to the floor, eyes squeezed shut, still holding Bulk’s shoulder tightly.

“What the fuck are we going do?” Packham sounded panicked. “Even if we get the access back, who’s going to co-pilot the ship?”

Doc stood up slowly, but continued to eye Bolkov’s body. He looked devastated, disheartened, distraught.

“We’re fucked! We’re all fucked,” Packham said, shaking her head.

Doc looked at her. Somehow, he seemed to push the pain to one side. His face hardened and his jaw clenched. “Brown can do it,” he told her. “He knows this ship and how it works.”

“But he’s out there somewhere,” Packham continued, verging on hysterical. “What if he doesn’t make it back? We’re fucked!”

Doc walked over to her, grabbed her by the shoulders and shook her slightly. “He will, sergeant. We’ll call him back now. We’ll override and change the ship’s access codes, so they can’t get back on. The ship will be safe,” he said firmly, then quickly entered the flight deck.

Carrie stood at the door with her gun ready, her eyes darting between the corridor and the flight deck, trying to ignore Bulk’s dead body that sat a few feet from her. Packham followed Doc to the console. He ordered her to check the ship’s cameras and heat sensors to see if there was anyone else on the ship. Thankfully, there wasn’t. They looked at the screens and saw Harris, Brown and McKinley making their way to the end of Section Three. It looked as though Chet and Logan had disappeared again. Why?

Doc hit the comms button, taking a second to steady himself.

“Captain, this is Doc. You need to return to the ship immediately … Bolkov’s dead.”

“What?” Harris stopped walking.

“And we’ve killed three more of those guys onboard the Aurora.”

“Three more!” Harris looked around at McKinley and Brown. “What do you mean three more? Two are dead and we only had four to begin with?”

“Well, three new ones turned up on the ship and they had our access code. We need Brown back here. He’s now Packham’s co-pilot!”

“Fuck …” Harris seemed to whisper in disbelief. He exchanged looks with McKinley and Brown, then his voice quickly hardened again. “Copy that. We’re heading back.”

*

Harris, McKinley and Brown moved swiftly back toward the dock. As they approached Carter’s and Louis’s bodies, Harris grabbed Carter by the arm and Brown grabbed Louis. They were not going to leave any of their men behind. So they dragged their bodies back to the Aurora, under McKinley’s watchful cover.

They made it back without incident. Chet and Logan were in hiding again. But why, he didn’t know. He found it odd that they’d strike then go into hiding, when they could have potentially had a good shot at the rest of them. Why are they playing with us like this?

When they got back to the ship, the three of them quickly surveyed the scene outside the flight deck. Harris looked at the three strangers’ bodies. He recognized their faces from the Darwin’s crew files. So they were here all along … And they clearly weren’t victims like he’d thought. Those fuckers have been sitting up on that secret floor watching us this whole goddamn time …

He crouched down beside Bolkov. The Russian sat there against the wall, his head hunched over as though he were asleep, a large pool of blood beside him. It was as though Bulk was giving a final slow nod to his captain. Harris reached out and squeezed his shoulder, and gave him a slow nod back, trying to fight the crushing feeling he felt inside.

He quickly pulled himself together and ordered Welles to guard the entrance while Packham and Brown got to work overriding the entry codes. He then proceeded to help McKinley and Doc move the three bodies of the Darwin crew out onto the dock, and then Carter, Louis and Bolkov’s bodies up to the hospital. When they were finished, the three of them stood there in complete silence. Shocked.

He stared at his dead soldiers. Louis’s and Carter’s bodies lay on the two free beds, and Bolkov’s on the floor, all covered with sheets. His eyes drifted to Hunter and Colt who were in their pods, out to it. Then he thought of Smith, lying in the cool room, already on ice. He closed his eyes briefly.

Decimation, he thought. It was the only word that came to mind.

Doc was the first to move among them. He turned abruptly, left the room and returned a moment later holding a vial of the fluid.

“Command has seriously fucked us in the ass on this one,” he said angrily.

Harris eyed him and the vial of fluid he held up.

“The fluid they stole,” Doc continued, “the same fluid I was injecting them with when we first got here? I ran some tests on a few bottles I had left in the store, tucked away in another spot. They’re laced with growth hormones; all the stuff on the manifests that I couldn’t find in their blood. I had to break it down to specific amino acids to find it, but they’re in there. They’ve obviously created a new masking agent to cover it in their blood, and it must be a strong fuckin’ one to have lasted this long. These growth hormones gave them their strength and their aggression, and I’ve been feeding it to them the whole fuckin’ time!” He exhaled angrily. “Command stocked this ship, captain. They planted it. They knew I’d give it to them because they seemed dehydrated.”

Harris stared at Doc for a moment. He saw McKinley watching for his reaction out of the corner of his eye.

“You weren’t to know, Doc. It’s not your fault,” Harris assured him.

“There’s something else,” Doc began, his voice a little calmer, but not in a way that made Harris feel at all comfortable. “Welles said that Grolsh was trying to drag Colt away, and that her getting shot was an accident.”

“It was. I saw it,” McKinley said.

“Well, isn’t that a bit strange when they’re not hesitating to kill the rest of us?” Doc asked them.

“What’s your point?” Harris asked him back.

“Chet and his boys don’t seem to want to kill the women for some reason. At first, I figured that maybe they were, you know, just going for the obvious.” Doc shot him a look and Harris gave a nod, understanding. “But I decided to take another look through the women’s files,” Doc continued, “and I remembered noticing when you first gave them to me, that there’d been some extra testing done on them. I didn’t realize why, until now. I just assumed the UNF was getting a little more detailed with its enrollment procedures.”

“What testing, Doc?” Harris looked hard at his lieutenant. He knew he was about to tell him something he wasn’t going to like.

Doc stared hard back. “Fertility.”

McKinley looked back and forth between the two for a second.

“Fertility?” Harris repeated in disbelief.

Doc nodded. “There’s a brief section in their files on the health of their reproductive systems, and it clearly notes that none of them are on birth control. They’re very healthy and strangely enough, all three are due to ovulate within a few days. Their files have rough dates and everything.”

“What the fuck are you saying?” Harris asked him.

“I’m saying that Command suddenly put three women on your ship, for this particular mission, for a reason. And that’s why they wouldn’t allow you to mix the women with the survivors until they were ready. Ready to start a new phase in their experiment.”

“Wait a minute,” McKinley interrupted. “Command ordered you to keep them away from the Darwin team?”

Harris nodded at him, almost ashamed. “They were not allowed off the Aurora.”

McKinley nodded to himself, as though suddenly the pieces fell into place.

Harris turned back to Doc. “Packham said before, when the fluid was stolen, that they were at the flight deck door trying to get to her. But they didn’t know I had Hunter change the access code for the flight deck, just to be sure.”

Doc nodded. “Command had access to our codes before we left. That’s how they stocked the ship.”

“It explains how they got aboard and into Doc’s rooms, but not the flight deck.” McKinley agreed.

Doc looked at Harris and clenched his jaw. “They’re trying to create the perfect soldiers,” he continued, “so why not start from scratch? Get the DNA right from day one. Imagine what good soldiers they’d be after a lifetime of mind-fucking, growth hormones, animal senses and UNF training.”

The three of them stood in silence for a few moments, soaking it in.

“You think the women knew what they signed up for?” McKinley asked. “Maybe they volunteered for those tests.”

Doc shook his head. “No. I think they just thought they were joining Space Duty, and I think it was our job to deliver them to the survivors. We were expendable. We were just the delivery boys.”

Harris stared hard at Doc for a moment. He felt a blaze of anger lick up inside him more swiftly than he’d ever felt before. He exhaled forcefully and brought his hand to his jaw and began rubbing it. He moved to rub the back of his neck, as he stared at the floor, trying hard to remove the image of Sibbie and Etta that had suddenly thrust itself inside his mind, like the blade of sharpened knife. A stab of realization, perhaps? He swore he could see their reflection in that blade, clear as day, staring at him. Had they tried to warn him of this?

“So what does this mean, then?” McKinley broke the silence.

Harris looked at him. “It means that we’re alone. We’re down five men, plus Colt, of course … and they’ll stop at nothing until they get their hands on the women.”

McKinley put his hands on his hips. “Why didn’t the UNF just bring them here themselves and do their experiments straightaway? Why bring us into it? Why risk their current stock of soldiers? It doesn’t make sense.”

Harris ground his teeth. “Who the fuck knows what the UNF was thinking … I knew there was something about Martin.”

The three of them stood in silence again for a moment longer.

“Unless we were a test …” Doc suddenly offered, his eyes narrowing in thought.

“A test?” McKinley asked, furrowing his brow.

Harris looked over at Doc.

“Yeah …” Doc nodded. “Maybe it was a test to see how the new breed of soldier went against the current breed?”

Harris, hit by another realization, nodded slowly. “The third test. The first test was the Stella Maris, just a stock standard cargo crew. The second test was the Belgo, a crew of hardened ex-cons, and we’re the third. UNF soldiers. UNF soldiers flying under the radar, that not too many people will miss.”

“And the women are just the next phase of their experiment,” Doc added. “They kill us to get to them.”

Harris, McKinley and Doc all looked at each other for a moment.

“Captain, we have to tell them,” Doc said. “Welles and Packham need to know.”

Harris nodded, albeit reluctantly. “Call everyone into my office.” He went to leave, then suddenly stopped as the device he’d picked up on the Darwin moved inside his shirt. “I forgot this,” he said, pulling it out and showing it to Doc.

Doc looked at him confused.

“I took it off the Darwin just now,” Harris told him. “They left it for me. Let’s find out what they have to say.”

*

Carrie stood guard by the Aurora’s main entrance, trying hard not to think about the world of shit they were in. Three more dead in a matter of minutes … Jesus fucking Christ!

She heard Doc call her name and turned to see him standing just down the corridor.

“Captain wants everyone in his office,” he told her.

She motioned toward the entrance and went to speak, but he cut her off.

“Packham and Brown have overridden the access code. It’s safe.”

She nodded and they started down the corridor. Doc was slightly in front, but she quickened her pace to walk alongside him. He seemed anxious.

“What’s going on?” she asked, searching his face.

He glanced briefly at her, his eyes burdened, but all he said was, “Captain’s going to brief everyone.”

The tone of his voice concerned her, but she nodded again. “Thanks for … before, outside the flight deck. You saved me. I owe you one.”

“You don’t owe me anything, Welles. You would’ve done the same thing. Except maybe you would’ve got him in one shot.” He gave her a weak smile, then looked ahead and kept walking. She could tell he was avoiding her eyes now, and it disturbed her.

“Doc, what is it?” She reached out and grabbed his arm, stopping him. “What’s wrong?”

“The captain will speak to you in a moment.” He tried to keep walking, but she stopped him again and her eyes searched his for an answer.

He stared back. “Welles, we have to go.” He broke off her gaze and started walking again.

She stood there watching him. Something’s wrong … what isn’t he telling me?

He stopped and turned around. “Corporal!” he called in a firmer voice, as though it were an order. She started walking again and they went the rest of the way in silence.

When they reached the office, she saw Harris at his desk scrolling through an electronic device, with McKinley standing beside him, reading over his shoulder. The two of them stopped what they were doing and looked up at her. Doc moved to stand beside the captain’s desk, and McKinley moved to the back wall by the door, giving her a strange look as he passed. Her eyes followed him, wondering what it was for.

Brown and Packham came in then. Carrie turned around as they entered, and saw McKinley motion for Brown to stand beside him, which he did. She locked eyes with McKinley again for a moment, then turned back around to Harris. What’s going on? Why are they all acting strange?

Packham moved forward to stand beside her, which, Carrie noticed, left just the two of them standing in front of Harris’s desk.

“Ok, listen up,” Harris began. “We need to make sure we’re all on the same page, here.” He glanced at Carrie, Packham and Brown.

“It’s obvious now that the missing crew have been here all along. You guys killed three of them. That’s good. Unless they’ve snuck extras on board, then I calculate that leaves three, possibly four, but I’m still not sure where Professor Sharley fits into all of this. We certainly haven’t seen him, so we don’t know if they’ve killed him, or whether he’s a part of all of this.

“Now, Brown’s overridden the access to the ship, which means we’re locked down and safe. But the question is, what do we do now?” He looked around at everyone. “As soon as we released the survivors, Command deployed another ship to this station. Now, we can wait until that team arrives, locked up here on the ship, but we’ll have to do so for a lengthy amount of time without power, temperature control, etc, and we need to be mindful that we’ve got two soldiers in pods. Having said that, Doc seems to think that Hunter and Colt will survive outside those pods once the battery dies, they just won’t be as comfortable as they are now, and we’ll have to watch them carefully, ’round the clock.

“An alternative, Brown tells me, is that we could go to the Darwin’s control room, disable the bar on the power so we can regain access, fire up and fly out of here much sooner, and get Hunter and Colt to further medical aid. Of course, if we go for the control room we risk further casualties. These men are extremely dangerous,” he told them, holding up the device he and McKinley had been looking at. “I grabbed this when we were on the secret floor. They left it for me. It goes through in some detail the experiment that are these … men. The experiment is called the UNF Advanced Soldier Program, UNFASP for short. These guys, these specimens, have been nicknamed ‘Jumbos’, basically for the fact that they’re a culmination of several advanced features.

“According to this report, so far they’ve created eighteen of them. Over time, ten of them have died. Some were due to heart problems because of the high concentration of growth hormones they injected them with. Some were killed by other Jumbos. They had eight left and so far we’ve killed five of them. That leaves …” he looked down at the device, “Oxer, aka Jumbo 16, whom we’ve not yet had the pleasure of meeting, but according to this file he has the eyes. Logan aka Jumbo 17, and Chet, Jumbo 18.” He looked back up at them all. “From what I can gather, they’ve improved with each one, which would make Chet their best one yet. Not only is he their best yet, but both he and Logan were the two main guys working alongside Sharley on this experiment. It’s as much their brainchild as it is his. They were obviously pretty confident with this experiment to volunteer themselves as guinea pigs.

“Now, the Jumbos are extremely strong and fit and they are well trained in how to kill and kill quickly, as we’ve seen already. The four survivors we initially found all had increased hearing capabilities on top of this. Logan and Chet, their two latest models, have also got improved vision, particularly in the dark. Chet, their very latest, also has an acute sense of smell.”

Harris seemed to pause in consideration for a moment. “The UNF sent us here to test them. They’ve sent two other unsuspecting ships here prior to us. We’re the third and final test. My guess is, they were to gain our trust, get out of their cell, get amongst us … and kill us. A real life UNF war game.” Harris paused a moment, then looked at Carrie and Packham. “Sergeant Packham, Corporal Welles … when I say their plan is to kill us, I don’t mean all of us. There’s something else you should know.”

Carrie stiffened slightly and shot Doc a glance. His eyes looked back at hers, almost apologetic. Packham shuffled where she stood and the women exchanged a nervous glance. Carrie looked back at Harris, waiting for him to speak. She saw him glancing down at three e-files lying side-by-side on his desk.

“Yes, captain,” she prompted him, suddenly feeling very nervous.

He looked up at them both with a deadpan, expressionless face. “You were put on the Aurora for a reason. The UNF wanted you women to take part in their programs up here on the Darwin.”

Carrie and Packham shot each other a glance.

“Take part? How?” Packham asked.

“It seems the UNF is looking to expand their perfect soldier experiment by branching out into genetic engineering. You were being put forward as the guinea pigs.”

Carrie looked at Doc again. He was staring down at Harris’s desk. She looked back at Harris and shook her head. “I don’t understand?”

Harris eyed the two women for a moment. “We believe they want to use you as, um … incubators for some sort of genetic … biological experiment with the survivors.”

Carrie froze, eyes glued to Harris.

Packham gave him an incredulous look. “What do you mean? They were going to … are we talking … some sort of … baby thing here? Is that what you mean?”

Harris nodded. The room was silent.

Packham laughed strangely. “Er … excuse me, sir?”

Again the room was silent.

Carrie glanced over at Doc again. His eyes were still on Harris’s desk. She followed his line of sight to the three files that Harris had been looking at before. She figured they must be their personnel files. Doc looked up and met her stare. His eyes were still apologetic, albeit with a painful edge to them now. Her heart began to pound. Why are they telling us this? Why now? Why here? What’s going on? Carrie looked back at Harris again, his face still expressionless.

Packham glanced down at her hands, her face suddenly pale and sombre. “Is that why … why they were trying to get to me on the flight deck before, when the power went out?”

Harris nodded. “That’s why they haven’t attempted to kill any of you,” he answered, then looked at Carrie. “That’s why Grolsh didn’t kill you, Welles.”

Carrie locked eyes with Harris; her frozen exterior was quickly melting with an angry molten fire.

“But,” Packham continued, “I don’t understand. Why me? Why us?”

Doc shrugged. “You’re fit, you’re healthy—”

“And you’ve all excelled in your fields,” Harris added. “You have good, solid track records and you’re determined, you’re career driven. You must be the sort of breeding stock they’re after.”

Breeding stock? Carrie felt the molten fire scorching her chest now. She looked around at the four men in the room.

“So, you’re telling me,” she began, trying to steady the angry waver in her voice, “that we weren’t actually sent on this mission because we’re good soldiers, to work like good soldiers. We were sent here because … because we’re women, basically. That’s it. Just women?” She shrugged.

Harris looked at her, but didn’t answer. Her burning chest was now accompanied by shaking, sweating hands and shallow breathing.

“S— So how long have you known about this, captain?” Carrie asked, her eyes flicking between his and Doc’s, as her cheeks began to burn red. “Did they tell you this when they added us to your team? Was it was your job to make sure we behaved? That’s it, right? That’s why you wouldn’t let us off the ship, isn’t it? It’s all in those files, isn’t it?” Carrie pointed to the files on his desk they’d been eyeing.

“Look, Welles—” Harris began.

“No!” she fired back at him. “This was in our FUCKING FILES, WASN’T IT?” she yelled.

“Welles!” Doc stepped out in front of the desk. “Calm down.”

Harris sat back in his chair, stunned by her outburst.

“NO!” she hissed, pointing at Doc. “Don’t tell me to calm down!” Her mind was racing now, confused with a thousand thoughts. She started moving backward away from Doc, trying to corral a confused Packham behind her and darting her eyes between the men. She wasn’t sure what was going on, but suddenly felt very uneasy about the fact that it was the women the survivors were after all this time. Her mind continued to race. Why did Harris call us here? Why are they telling us this? What are they planning to do? Why did Doc look apologetic? What was that strange look from McKinley before? What are they going to do to us?

She very quickly became even more uneasy about the fact that she and Packham were outnumbered, particularly with the likes of McKinley and Brown by the door.

She eyed them both carefully, then locked eyes with McKinley. “Why are you guarding the fuckin’ door?” she accused in a low, tight voice.

McKinley and Brown shot each other a puzzled glance, as something seemed to click inside Carrie’s mind. Something she didn’t want to believe, but something that made complete and utter sense.

She spun back around to Harris. “You’re going to hand us over to them, aren’t you? To save your own necks? Our lives for yours?”

“What?” Packham exclaimed, looking around the room, panicked.

Carrie swiftly slid her hand behind to the gun tucked into her pants. McKinley immediately stiffened and reached for his gun too.

“Welles … don’t,” he warned.

“Welles, take it easy.” Doc moved slowly toward her with his hands out in a peaceful gesture. “It’s not what you think.”

“No?” she hissed, slapping one of his arms away, hard, making him wince. “Then what is it? Did you know about this?” She tried to make her voice hard, but it faltered on the last part, as her brow furrowed in disappointment.

“Just calm down a second … take your hand off the gun,” he said, moving another step closer.

“You did, didn’t you?” she continued, as her throat tightened. “You and your fucking physicals! Always so concerned about our health!”

She swung a punch at his arm but he blocked it, grabbing her at the wrist. She was angry and unfocused, so her effort was poor. She let go of her gun and tried to throw one with her other arm, but he quickly grabbed that too and twisted her around, crossing her arms over. She tried to rip herself free, but he held her wrists tightly, pinning her arms across her chest.

“FUCK YOU!” Carrie yelled, as she struggled against him.

“No, let her go!” Packham cried out, as she leaped forward and threw her arm around Doc’s neck trying to pull him away. McKinley instantly stepped forward and removed her, forcing her back against the wall. He stood between her and Doc with his hand in the air motioning for her to stay back.

“Welles, calm down!” Doc yelled. “We’re not going to hurt you.”

Carrie struggled hard, but he brought her in tight against him, curling his body over hers, and tucking his head firmly alongside, to restrict her movement.

“Welles!”

“No! Let me go,” she yelled, still trying to struggle free.

“I’ll let you go when you calm down. I will not hurt you, alright? I am NOT going to hurt you!” Doc squeezed her very tight now. Her movement was completely restricted, even her breathing, as her arms were pinned so tightly across her chest.

“It’s okay, alright,” he said with a firm, but gentle voice. “Just calm … down.”

She stood there trapped, breathing heavily in panic.

“Welles,” Harris barked, now seeking to take charge again. “Do we look like we knew about this?”

Carrie tried to look at him, but Doc’s head was blocking her line of sight. He turned their bodies slightly and lifted his head back, so she could see Harris.

“Huh?” Harris continued. “Four of my men are dead because I didn’t know what the fuck we were up against. You think if I knew it was you they were after, I would’ve let them out of that cell? That I would’ve risked my team? Four men, Welles. Four fucking men! And I have to live with that.”

Carrie tried to control her anger, the burning in her cheeks and the large lump gathering in her throat. Silence sat in the room for a few painful seconds.

“We all got fucked over on this, Welles,” Doc said quietly, “all of us.”

Carrie didn’t say anything. The room was so quiet, all she could hear was her heavy breathing. She felt the lump in her throat increase dramatically and her eyes began to sting with tears. She pressed her lips together and swallowed hard, trying to keep her composure.

“I’m going to let you go now,” Doc told her with a steady voice, “but I need you to stay calm. Alright?”

She gave a very slight nod, fighting the lump in her throat and the welling in her eyes. Doc watched her for a moment, then slowly loosened his grip on her wrists. He moved his arms away from her cautiously, as though she were a bomb that could go off any second. When he seemed sure that she wasn’t going to freak out and attack him, he stepped away from her.

She kept her back to him, but saw him look over at Harris out of the corner of her eye. As soon as he looked away she swiftly headed for the door, rushing past McKinley and Brown, who thankfully made no attempt to stop her.

*

Harris watched as Welles quickly vacated the room. He sighed heavily with frustration. It wasn’t the fact that she’d exploded the way she had. That was actually understandable to a certain extent. What got him was the fact that she thought he’d hand her over to the survivors. His own soldier thinking that he would trade her life for his own? She really didn’t know him at all. Then again, what did he expect? He hardly knew her either. He had to admit the circumstances may have looked suspicious. There was little reason to trust anyone right now.

Doc looked over at the empty doorway, disappointed, then turned back to him, placing his hands on his hips, defeated. Harris eyed him for a moment, then motioned for him to go after her. Doc nodded, and left.

“That went well,” McKinley said flatly.

“What the fuck, captain?” Brown asked, his face somewhat bewildered by everything that had just happened.

Harris sighed again. “What the fuck, indeed!” He ran his hand over his face, then looked at Packham, who still stood in the corner of the room, looking pale and nervous. “Y’alright, sergeant?” he asked her.

She eyed the three men, then shook her head. “Not particularly, no.”

“Maybe you should take a seat, you look pale. Everyone just take a second, until Doc comes back with Welles.”

McKinley looked at Packham, then walked over and pulled out the chair in front of Harris’s desk. He motioned for her to take it; his way of calling a truce. She eyed him nervously for a moment then she walked over to it, sat down and collapsed forward, placing her head in her hands.

Harris, McKinley and Brown watched her, then exchanged a look with each other that seemed to scream aloud the same thought: What the fuck are we going to do?

*

Carrie walked quickly down the corridor, turned the first corner she came across and stood there. She was shaking like a leaf, still fighting the lump in her throat, as the tears threatened to burst their banks. She couldn’t believe this was happening. All her dreams of Space Duty had been shattered in one fell swoop. She was a good soldier, a great shooter, and here she was being offered up by the UNF as a host for a biological experiment, like she was worth nothing. She placed her hands on top of her head, then slid them down to the back of her neck and took a deep breath, trying to control her emotions. How could this be? Was this what her father was trying to warn her about? Telling her not to trust anyone?

“Welles …” Doc’s voice came softly behind her, but it gave her a scare regardless.

She turned around and saw him at the corner of the corridor. “I swear we didn’t know about any of this.” His apologetic eyes pleaded with her. “We’ve only just figured it out.”

She looked at him a moment, searching his eyes for the truth, and she found it. She believed him. She gave a slight nod, and as she did the banks burst and tears started falling down her cheeks. She quickly wiped them away, but they kept coming. She turned her back to him and shoved her palms against her eyes to try to plug them. She gasped for breath, begging herself: Don’t cry! Don’t cry! Don’t cry!

She stood there for a few moments, picturing her father’s stern colonel stare. She focused on the image and used it to pull herself together. Don’t fail, she told herself. You can’t fail. She took another deep breath and removed the hands from her eyes, drying them. She turned back around and flinched when she saw Doc standing right in front of her now. She looked at him for a second, saw the concern in his eyes and the painful edge to them, then more tears started streaming down.

“Fuck …” she whispered, trying to wipe them away again.

Doc reached out and put his hand on her shoulder, squeezing it gently. She didn’t look at him. She knew it would only make things worse. She hated feeling this weak. He moved his other hand up to her chin and brought her face and eyes back to his.

“Welles, we’re not going to let anything happen to you, or Packham, or Colt,” he said. “If we stick together we can make it through this. But we have to stick together.”

More tears came rushing down, as she gasped for breath again. Doc seemed to wince at her tears and clenched his jaw. He brought his other hand up, cupped her face firmly, and ran his thumbs across her cheeks wiping the tears away. She tried to calm her breathing, grabbing hold of his wrists.

“We can do this, but we need you,” he told her firmly. “We have to stick together, alright? We’re on the same side here.”

Carrie nodded at him. She had to pull herself together. They need you. She pictured her father again, his firm face, his challenging eyes. It started working. She took a few seconds, then took another deep breath, exhaled her release, and looked at Doc again. This time no tears fell.

He stared at her for a brief moment, his eyes searching hers to make sure she was alright, then he slowly dropped his hands from her face. She let go of his wrists, but he caught her hand and squeezed it, shooting her another look.

“You ready to go back in?” he asked her.

She nodded, sniffing. They dropped hands and headed back toward Harris’s office. As she approached the door she wiped her eyes one last time and took another deep breath, exhaling loudly.