Kristi Helvig - Burn Out

Everyone left the room to grab the containers of Caelia Pure to transfer to the shelter for now. Kale also packed up the vitamin supplements, energy packets, and other key cargo in case the ship got raided. Everyone except James, who riffled through the various cabinets in the med room and gathered first-aid supplies and medications. He fingered one small box of pain tablets and turned to me. “Did you want anything for pain? I didn’t want to give you any medication without your permission.”

Right. He certainly didn’t have a problem getting me naked without my permission. I opened my mouth to refuse, but my own small stash of painkillers flashed in my mind. Plan B. It would be stupid to turn down something that could be useful later.

“No, I don’t want any now. You should bring them though. You know, just in case.”

His brow wrinkled, but he slipped the box into the supply bag. He surveyed the room and turned to me. I tried to forget I was still naked save for a bit of white fabric. “I’m going to take this stuff up front. Your clothes are on the table over there … you should get dressed.”

He’s seen you without a stitch of those clothes on . I snorted. “You mean you’re not going to stick around like last time I was naked.”

James sighed. “I told you, I did what was necessary to help you.” He waved his hand over the door panel and it slid open.

I called after him. “So, you were only focused on my injury. You didn’t notice anything else.”

James turned around, a serious look still on his face but a spark in his eyes. “I didn’t say that.” He went through the door before I could respond. It closed behind him.

My mouth hung open in the empty room. I should be angry with him, yet a small part of me liked the look on his face. Then reality kicked in. Here I was, injured and surrounded by enemies, yet worried about a medic seeing my body. Had my father taught me nothing?

I lowered myself down to the floor, and dressed as quickly as I could, wincing as I raised my arms to pull on my faded gray T-shirt. My gun lay next to my clothes. After dressing, I powered up the gun and moved to the door while trying to ignore the lingering nausea. I waved my hand over the door panel, and it opened easily.

The hallway lights buzzed faintly above me as I moved through the hall. The walls were a faded gray, like the color of a dead person. The only decorations were an assortment of dents and chips. This ship looked older than dirt. How it could fly fifty yards, let alone across the galaxy, was beyond me. How did they get here from Caelia on this piece of crap?

I passed a room to my right containing four sleep chambers. Clothes were strewn over two of the sleep pads, while another was neatly made with clothes folded atop it. Clothes that looked like Kale’s military ones. The other chamber didn’t appear like it had ever been slept in. Why was Kale sleeping with the crew? More important, why was he working against his own government, and how did James and Britta get involved in all this?

Another door stood open farther down the hall. I knew I shouldn’t snoop, but curiosity got the best of me. Darkness saturated the room. I reached my hand inside, waving around for the light panel. The space lit up and I stepped inside. This had to be the captain’s quarters. It contained just one enormous sleep chamber. I closed the door behind me so I wouldn’t be seen from the hallway. The orderliness of the room impressed me. Not a thing out of place. Nothing to even suggest anyone lived there, aside from a pair of shoes lined up neatly by the door. A small clothing container rested against the wall. I couldn’t resist.

I quickly opened the top drawer. Socks. Lots of socks. All white. Folded in matching pairs, as if it mattered, because they were all white. What did I think I’d find in here? I started to close it when I noticed something in contrast to the white, underneath one of the sock pairs in the far corner of the drawer. I moved the socks aside and pulled out a picture. No one printed out pictures anymore; they were too fragile. Viewing photos on an e-reader gave you living, breathing, three-dimensional images versus the flatness of the thermoplastic paper I held in my hand.

A cute little blond boy with hazel eyes stared up at me. I knew instantly it was James. He must have been five or six years old, and his smile radiated out from the photo. Surrounding him were a man and woman I assumed were his parents, and a smaller blond girl with eyes identical to his. They stood close together, the mother’s hands around each of the children’s shoulders. They looked happy. My eyes pulled back to James and that smile. It was a real smile. I couldn’t imagine anyone who had to endure the harsh existence of Earth being happy, yet my sister had been that way too. Maybe someone who loved you enough to shield you from reality could keep the sadness away.

Except if the person who made James happy died, maybe the weight of the world crushed him in the aftermath. The few smiles I’d seen from him didn’t reach his eyes the way this one did. The mere fact that he brought the picture everywhere meant that he’d loved his family a lot—maybe even loved his sister as much as I loved mine. I pushed the picture back under the socks and shut the drawer. Why were James’ things in the captain’s quarters? Maybe James needed his space here too? I needed some answers, and fast.

I opened another drawer filled with perfectly folded T-shirts. He really had an aversion to color because there was nothing but white here either. I lifted one to my nose and inhaled. It was clean, yet still smelled faintly like James, and somehow a little like the ocean. Get a grip, it’s a stupid shirt . Impulsively, I took the folded shirt and tucked it under the waistband of my drawstring pants. The loose fit of my pants might not win any fashion awards, but they proved to be quite functional. I pulled my T-shirt down over my pants, covering the shirt.

I’d never stolen a thing in my life, yet a guy’s shirt was shoved into my pants. I couldn’t explain the sudden compulsion to take something of his, and I definitely wouldn’t be able to justify it to the others if I got caught. Maybe you do have oxygen deprivation . I had to get out of there. They would wonder where I was by now.

This time the hallway beyond the doorway was darkened. Maybe they were the kind of high-tech lights my dad had installed in the shelter that would only light up when they sensed human energy. I stepped into the hallway. Nope. It stayed dark. I felt around for a light panel on the wall. After locating one, I waved my hand over it.

Light flooded the space. “There, that’s better—”

Something connected with the back of my already bruised head and I went down hard on my face. Trigger flew from my hand and skittered across the floor. A humming echoed in my ear at the same time the hard sole of a boot pressed down into my back. I knew that hum. It was one of their guns. My ribs felt like they cracked in a few new places, and excruciating pain shot up my spine. A high-pitched chuckle came from above me. Stupid bitch .

“I can’t wait to turn your ass over to them,” Britta said.

Great. I could guess which “them” she was talking about. Britta and the others would probably run off with the guns as soon as they threw me at the Consulate. They’d have the guns, the Consulate would have me, and all I’d have was a lousy T-shirt.

BRITTA YANKED MY HANDS BACK FARTHER AND FORCED PLASTIC electronic cuffs around my wrists. The motion made my entire rib cage feel like it was cracking apart. I’d made a huge mistake refusing those pain meds. She pushed her finger on a small button on the cuffs, and they shrank to the size of my wrists, ensuring there was no way I’d escape them.