Drake's Demons: Chapter 1
Nu Ursa was a place where “lucky” was handed out like candy, but anyone who swallowed the word knew how bitter it tasted. The next patient over to Carrol, a young man who’d lost an ear and three fingers from his right hand when the handhold on his shuttle transport had shredded under Paragon fire, had swallowed the word as Carrol watched. Just an inch to the left and the plasma bolts would have taken off his head, as it had for the rest of his squad behind him. He was lucky to be alive. But Carrol could see truth when the doctors left, written by his silence. He didn’t feel lucky. Worse, he knew that he was, but he still couldn’t feel it no matter how hard he tried. He slept, now, restless. Carrol knew he would wake soon, but for now he was oblivious. Time slipped.
Carrol knew she was lucky, and she was resolved to feel that way. She had both her ears, all her digits, limbs, head. And the Paragon compound she’d been exposed to was currently being neutralized deep inside her tissues. It was a neural compound, designed to attack the brain, and if left untreated, would wipe a person of all the information their brain could hold; short-term memories first, followed by long, then core components like personality, and eventually even the autonomic functions would be destroyed. The victim would die. Nasty stuff. It came in gas form, a thick, hideous green. Carrol and three others had been exposed to it while evacuating the orbital facility over Gynax VI—they’d got the worst of it, the other three; a man and two women Carrol didn’t know, crew from the facility. She knew one didn’t make it, the man, but the two women and Carrol had been jumped straight to Nu Ursa where Doc said they had the cure. He didn’t, not on Glory, but the hospital would. Touch and go is what he said it would be until they got there. The other two women had been rushed to intensive care, but Carrol had still been awake and alert, still remembered what had happened. She’d been treated and then taken to the general ward.
She was safe, now, they said. The treatment would work so long as she stayed awake for the next four hours, and she was very, very lucky. Even though she would forget. She’d lose the hospital, certainly, the past day or so up to the point of exposure, likely, and then perhaps another day or two before that. Even though the man had died, and the two other women might. She was lucky. Everyone here was lucky. Horribly lucky.
She reached for her bedside water cup and drank to wash the taste from her mouth. A soft chime rang out from the table when she put the cup back down. A screen there asked if she wanted a refill. She tapped no. Not for now. Everything was shiny on Nu Ursa. High-tech. Smooth. Unblemished. Utterly unlike Glory, whose surfaces only polished from decades of use and wear. It was too comfortable here, the bed especially, which beckoned sleep. ‘Come slip time with me,’ it said. It had been almost twenty-four hours, before the orbital evac mission, since she’d last slept. But she still wasn’t allowed to. Not yet. The treatment depended on it. The doctors had given her a stimulant to keep her awake, which Carrol was sure was the only thing cutting through her absolutely bottomless exhaustion, but it was also giving her a headache. And everywhere, the quiet creeped.
Just what in the hell was she going to do for four more goddamn hours?
Ding.
Her bedside chimed again, and Carrol turned to once more tell the maddening machine that, no, she did not want water. Instead, she found a privacy notification. Someone was coming.
“Yes?” Carrol said, pushing herself upright as a nurse peeked her head around the curtain. She sat further upright when she saw who was behind the nurse. “Captain.”
“Are you okay with a visitor?” the nurse asked, smooth and polite just like the bedside chime.
“Of course.” Carrol adjusted herself so that she could stay sitting upright. “Come in, Captain. Please. Be my guest.”
The nurse glided inside and Drake followed her as she shuffled here and there to check Carrol’s bed settings, fill her water cup, and position a chair for the Captain. No, he didn’t need it moved. Yes, Carrol was comfortable. Would they like some privacy? Sure. The nurse drew the curtains completely, closing the view of the sleeping young man next door with his bandaged hand, then clicked on the sound dampener as she left. All the sounds of the ward disappeared. They were alone, and it was very quiet.
“Is something wrong, sir?” she asked, hands pressed on the mattress, ready to get to her feet.
“No, no,” Drake said with a wave, and seemed caught between sitting and standing. “Stay comfortable. How are you?”
“I feel fine. They say I’m going to be fine.”
He decided to sit. “Treatment doing its thing?”
Carrol nodded. “I guess the cure is currently metabolizing in my brain. Should take about four hours.” She drew her knees up to her chest and wrapped her arms around them. “I have to stay awake until then.”
“I thought maybe I could help with that.”
Carrol raised her eyebrows. “Really?”
“Help keep you awake, yes.”
Wow. She must still be in more danger than she thought if they’d brought in the Captain to keep her company. Jesus.
Drake shifted in his chair, and set a bag down on the floor. Carrol could see it contained a variety of items, a book, data pads, water bottle, snacks. He’d come prepared to stay a while. It was hard for Carrol to decide if she was more touched or concerned. She’d never spent four straight hours alone with the Captain.
“What should we do?” she asked.
Drake looked down at his bag. “I have . . . cards. A book. A puzzle. We could . . . I have reports if you want to work.”
Carrol’s headache throbbed thinking about every one of those options. No, she didn’t want to do any of those things. Not right now. Nor could she fathom sitting in silence with Drake. “Why don’t you tell me a story,” she said, blurting the thought out in the same instant it occurred to her.
Drake looked up. “A story?”
She nodded, pulling her knees tighter to her chest. Yes, that’s what she wanted.
“Okay. What story?”
“Tell me about Dagus.”
She blushed as soon as she said it, surprised by herself. She couldn’t decide if Drake look surprised or not. “I know that’s a big ask,” she started, expecting to apologize and retract the request. “But . . . I’d very much like to know,” is what she said next, instead. “I know everything in the official report, inside and out, but I know so much is missing.”
Drake nodded at that.
“Besides,” Carrol said with a small shrug, “the Doctors tell me I’m not even going to remember this conversation, so it won’t be like you told anyone at all, really.”
Drake looked at her with dark, unreadable eyes, and the silence around them was stark.
“If you’re ready to tell the tale,” Carrol finally added.
Drake relaxed back into his chair, and he looked down at the floor with a thoughtful nod. “Yes,” he said, and then cleared his throat. “I think I am ready.” He looked up. “And I do think it will keep you awake.”
Carrol smiled. “Perfect.” She put her head down onto her knees, and the blanket covering them was soft.
Drake looked up towards the ceiling, searching as if where to begin. He eventually grunted, and shook his head. “Everyone thinks they know what happened,” he said, voice growing gravelly. “But they don’t have a clue . . .”