Pain Bringer (The Constant War Book 2), page 11
“I…I’ll have you know…” Dr. Scott raised a finger to object, but wound up shaking his head instead.
“Don’t worry about it, Doc. I’m sure she had other fine qualities.”
Wilkins smiled, settling back, watching the engine in awe.
What a testament to humanity.
First, Heaven.
And now this. Not only had they conquered an Old God, an ancient deity from another dimension, but they strapped jet engines to it and were riding it through the solar system like a tamed stallion.
Even the sky seemed somehow different. A veil of orange haze masked the black of space.
Wilkins basked in the heat radiating off the machine. It was more than heat. It was power. The surge. He could practically feel this engine moving the planet all by itself. That couldn’t possibly be true. It would take all of the engines in coordination to move such an enormous mass, but still—this ridiculous plan that humanity had hatched—was taking shape.
After all the doubts he had onboard Heaven, he saw the plan finally working.
He caught Dr. Scott looking up toward the towering machine, out into the depths of space, basking in the power of technology. It was a shared moment between them, that was quickly interrupted.
Dr. Scott pointed at Engine-1. “We can safely say the engineers didn’t run away because they felt inadequate about their abilities.”
Wilkins raised a brow. “Huh?”
“That was a joke.”
“Was it?”
“The joke being that the engineers did a competent job and would be proud of their accomplishment, rather than running off.”
“Not any funnier when you have to explain it.”
“Right, uh, so…”
“So why’d the engine shutdown to begin with?”
“Yes, yes. Good question,” said Dr. Scott, happy to change the subject. “Once turned on, it should have stayed on. The engineers would have started all the engines in sequence and operated them collectively from the mobile encampment. Doesn’t do us much good if we can’t control all eighteen engines at once in a coordinated manner.”
“Still doesn’t answer my question, Doc.”
“That’s my not so succinct way of saying, I don’t know.”
Wilkins’ tone dipped. “Yeah, me neither.”
He didn’t get it. Everything seemed normal..
Except for the missing team.
How could they simply disappear without a trace?
Wilkins glanced down the long valley nestled between two fallen tentacles. At the basin of Engine-1, Tigerclaws were neatly arranged in rows on their mobile recharging stations. Several Marines had already erected tents, preparing for the night.
Nothing out of the ordinary there.
Beyond the makeshift campgrounds, the landscape had a windswept quality. Wilkins imagined it was what the Old West looked like, minus a couple tumbling tumbleweeds. At least, that’s what he had been told the Old West looked like.
But he noticed one peculiarity.
Silence.
Wilkins turned to Dr. Scott.
“Where’s Char?”
For a moment, the question didn’t register. Dr. Scott looked at him, blankly. The shimmer of realization lit his eyes, and he turned, surveying the terrain that Wilkins had just given the once-over.
“The girl?”
Wilkins nodded. “The girl.”
“I thought she was here…”
It didn’t answer the question, but they were both thinking it. Not only the missing engineering team, but now the girl too.
Wilkins fidgeted in his pressure suit. Sweat beaded at his temple. A rivulet carved a path down his cheek. He felt flush. Quickly, he adjusted the suit’s climate control on his wrist display. Air blew frigid, but his body was an inferno.
He dialed up Char’s comm.
“Char, come in, over.”
No answer.
Rapidly, he punched the call button over and over—like that would have any effect on whether or not she picked up.
Great.
Now, not only was he clueless about the whereabouts of the missing engineering team, but he’d lost General No-Nonsense Havok’s daughter. And worse, word would get back to Melody and he’d never be able to explain what he was doing with a girl that he promised wouldn’t be on the mission with him.
Wilkins ran toward the camp. Toward rows of Tigerclaws.
Maybe she was just in the Painbringer, taking a nap, or something?
Wilkins ducked down alleys formed by the recharging units’ grid formation and made his way to the back row, where the Painbringer towered over the other mecha.
He hoisted himself up on its knee, catching the upper lip, and doing a pullup for a peek inside the cockpit.
Char wasn’t there.
Fudge berries.
Wilkins dropped to the ground.
He ran back toward the operating console, hoping maybe she doubled back, when he spotted her at the base of Engine-1.
Her back was to him, head slightly tilted down, staring at something. Wilkins followed her gaze to—
The crack in the base of Engine-1.
Dr. Scott arrived a few steps behind, huffing from the exertion. “Oh good, you found her. That’s one mystery solved.” He self-consciously chortled and started heading back to the operating console, expecting the others to follow, but Char remained in place.
Dr. Scott exchanged a worried glance with Wilkins. “Is this normal?”
Wilkins waved him off. Slowly, he approached Char. “Char…are you okay?”
Char didn’t respond.
Inches behind her, Wilkins leaned over, peering through the glass of her pressure suit.
Char’s expression was vacant, her gaze locked on the crack in Engine-1.
“Char?”
She stiffened, like waking from a dream.
“Huh, yeah, what?” Life returned to her eyes. “Oh, uh, yeah, no…”
“Are you okay?”
“Yeah, it’s…” Her gaze lingered to Dr. Scott, briefly, then back to Wilkins. “It’s nothing.”
“Uh huh. Right. Why don’t I believe you?”
“You not believing me, big guy? Not like that’s the first time.”
She sounded like her snarky old self. But she was covering. He grabbed her upper arm. “What was that all about?”
“I—I gotta…” Char looked at his hold on her arm. He held tight, but she used both hands to wriggle free. “Look, I gotta go do something.”
Before Wilkins could respond, Char was off and running toward the mecha campgrounds, toward the Painbringer.
Dr. Scott cleared his throat. “That’s weird, right? That seems weird to me. She seems…”
“Don’t.”
“What?”
“Don’t even start.”
Chapter Twelve
“You shouldn’t be in here,” said Wilkins. He looked through the plastic porthole window, into a small rectangular bulge. From the exterior, the flexible airlock chamber made the tent look like a flattened igloo. From the inside of the tent, all he could see was a pair of large doe-eyes staring at him.
On instinct, he grabbed his pressure suit and pushed the inflatable cushion he planned on using as a bed out of the way. He was nearly into the pressure suit, when a green light flashed next to the porthole window and the zippered seal began to move.
A waft of dry air bit his nose, and Char slithered inside with him.
It was hard to call these things tents. They weren’t much more than an oversized sleeping bag made from a durable nylon-plastic composite with an attached flimsy airlock. They had some structure, enough room to sit up in if you ducked your head. In Boot, Wilkins called them inflatable coffins. Mainly because—if the enemy caught you asleep in one, that’s exactly what they would be.
And Char had certainly caught him off guard.
“Don’t get all excited,” said Char. She pulled off her pressure suit mask, letting it dangle from its umbilical. The warmth of her breath filled the cramped confines. “I’m here for a different reason.”
“Out with it, Char,” said Wilkins, reversing course, slipping out of the pressure suit and hanging it up on the hook next to the bed.
“There’s something I’ve been meaning to tell you.”
“I’m sure this couldn’t have waited until morning.”
Char stroked her belly.
Wilkins went bug-eyed. “You—you’re not—are you?”
Char fell back on her butt, laughing. “Fuck no! But man, you should see the look on your face. Hilarious.”
“Sweet Lord on a cracker. You nearly gave me a heart attack. Is that what you wanted? To kill me?”
“No, of course—” Char paused, contemplating.
“Char?”
“—not.” She put her hand on his thigh. Her brows curtsied, bunching together for an instant. “Of course not.”
Wilkins promptly grabbed her hand and removed it from his leg. “Yeah, well now that that’s over, you should definitely leave.”
Instead of leaving, Char climbed into the tent and re-zippered the inner airlock flap behind her. She scooched as close to Wilkins as possible, crossed her legs beneath her, and plopped down on top of them.
Wilkins felt her body heat as she moved closer. Despite wanting her to leave, needing her to leave, for his sake, as well as Fairhaven’s and that of their unborn child, he welcomed the warmth fighting the cold vacuum of space keeping the plastic tent walls frigid.
“I don’t know who to talk to,” said Char. “It’s just—it’s something we share. I think it’s serious.”
“Uh, that’s not any better, Char. Or clearer.”
Char rapidly waved at the air. “No. Not what I meant. This isn’t about us. I meant—” She froze in place, listening to the night outside the plastic walls.
Wilkins tilted his head, leaning toward her. Leaning into the shared warmth. “What is it?”
“You feel it, don’t you?”
Wilkins squinted. Slowly, he shook his head. “I’m not sure what you’re getting at.”
“It can’t be just me.” She grabbed his hand. “Listen.”
His instinct was to pull away, but fire flowed through her touch. He looked up at Char. Her eyes were closed tight, her head thrown back, as if she could see the stars through a third eye.
Wilkins sighed, removed his hand from hers, clasped his together, and placed them comfortably in his lap. He closed his eyes. And listened.
He strained to hear, but all he could make out was silence.
Complete and utter silence.
No surprise, thought Wilkins. It took atmosphere to have sound. Despite Sindarhe’s massive gravitational pull, it hadn’t captured much in the way of a working atmosphere.
For a second, he thought maybe he heard something. A faint solar wind against the plastic walls.
“So what am I listening for?”
Wilkins opened an eye, peeking. Char was still in her frozen meditative pose, head aimed at the ceiling. He shook his head and once again closed his eyes. The harder he strained to listen, the more he heard his own pulse beating in his ear.
The rhythm of his heart. The loud thumping of an erratic drummer. His pulse thundering through his veins.
And then...
Was that?
Breathing.
The soft puff of exhalation.
A snort.
But it wasn’t coming from him. Nor Char.
Wilkins strained to make out the sound. Maybe it was in his head? Deeper still, under the puffs of breath, a rhythm pulsated, separate and different from that of his beating heart.
Slimy bodies moving past one another.
Moist, sticky sounds.
Like the sounds of someone chewing. Or water trickling. Or tongues touching.
Wilkins sat bolt upright.
Char leaned in, placing her hands over his. “You felt it.”
“What in the name of gravy was that?!” Wilkins immediately found solace in the warmth of her body. The touch. The nearness. The intimacy. The sounds echoing in his ear of forbidden passion. Her lips. So soft. So pink. Warmth radiated from her body. He nestled into it. Into her.
Sudden realization struck him like lightning, and he pushed her away as if he had been electrocuted.
“No, Char. I’m not doing this.”
She looked at her hands, at her seated position so close to him, leaning against him, practically on top of him. And she slid away. Her voice was startled more than anything.
“It’s not like that,” she said, “like the coming onto you thing. I mean, yeah, okay, it is a little bit like that, but I’m not, ya know, it’s not because I want to. It’s because of this place. It’s like before. On their station. Being near it. It’s making me like that. Like how it made you, ya know?”
“What—what are we talking here?”
“I know you’ve felt it before.”
It took him a moment to gather his senses. To register the tremor in his body. The trepidation. Wilkins nodded. “I feel it.”
“What do we tell the others?” asked Char.
“I don’t know.”
“What do you think happened to the original engineering team?”
It hadn’t dawned on him that any of this could be connected, but perhaps Char was right. All he could say was the one thing that kept coming to mind. “I don’t know.”
“Do you think they went crazy?”
“Command seems to think it was an attack of some kind.”
“But the squiddies are all dead. We haven’t seen a single one in eight months, since—ya know, this thing. They’re all gone. They’ve been gone. And we checked out the whole place, everything within spitting distance of Engine-1, and there’s no sign of anything. No engineers. No squiddies. No nothing.”
“I know, but...” Wilkins trailed off.
Char huddled into the corner of the tent, backing up like a frightened animal. He had never seen her like this before. She turned to him and said, “I need to ask you a favor.”
Her eyes were brown saucers, glistening in the glow of the tent’s soft lighting. “Can I stay with you tonight?”
Wilkins was already shaking his head when he answered. “You know what happened last time we felt this.”
“Yes, that’s why I’m asking to stay.”
“Char, I’m with Melody now.”
“No, not like that, you big idiot!” She punched him in the shoulder, paused, and glared at him, looking rather upset. More than usual. Like she was insulted he even suggested it.
Char turned her back to him and hugged her knees to her chest. “I mean...I’m afraid.”
They were far from Heaven. From home. On this distant planet that wasn’t even a planet.
“I get it,” said Wilkins. “But I don’t think staying here is a good idea. Especially if we’re experiencing what you think we’re experiencing. You need to sleep in your own tent.”
“Fine, whatever!” Her entire demeanor changed. “I’ll sleep in the Painbringer. It’s safer there anyway.”
“You don’t want to sleep in your mecha,” said Wilkins.
Char pressed the button near the porthole window. The small rectangular bulge made a whirring noise and began to inflate.
“Char...” Wilkins grabbed her arm.
She shook off his advance. “I wasn’t trying to sleep with you! But whatever!”
“It’s better if we don’t chance it. I don’t even know how I’m going to explain this to Melody. You aren’t supposed to be here. I promised her you wouldn’t be.”
“That’s what you’re thinking about right now?” Char looked at him in disbelief. “I’m thinking about the mission. About those two missing engineers. About an alien race that makes people go fucking insane and you’re thinking about your girlfriend?”
“Well...” Wilkins shrugged. “Yeah.”
“Yeah, well, sweet dreams or whatever.”
“No, not whatever.”
But it was too late.
Char was gone.
Chapter Thirteen
Char stumbled across the dusty landscape, heading toward a deflated, pathetic-looking tent. She had barely removed it from her mecha, let alone taken the time to set it up. Haphazardly, she tossed it on the ground, a beached jellyfish, and poked it with a toe before deciding she preferred coming back to deal with it later. Maybe it would set itself up? Era of automation and all that.
Sadly, it had not.
A hundred meters to the west, Tigerclaws were arranged in neat rows, stationed in recharging units, slumbering in the mecha land of Nod.
The sun had set a few hours earlier, its absence bringing extreme cold that even her pressure suit could not keep out. A chill shot through her straight to the bone. She crossed her arms, rubbing her elbows, but the frigid temperature wasn’t the only thing she was fighting.
Less than twelve hours on Sindarhe, and the effects of the Old God prodded her desires. Her inhibitions frayed at the edges. Not that she had many to begin with, but those things she didn’t want to dwell on or discuss, those anxieties placed precisely, existed for good reason. At least now, the disappearance of the engineers started to make sense—as well as the council’s confusion over what had happened to them.
Sindarhe happened.
That was all Char needed to know.
Only four people truly knew Sindarhe’s effect. Had experienced it. Four humans anyway. Of them, three were still alive. Char being one. Wilkins and Fairhaven the remaining two.
Char brickwalled the sensation nipping at her mind, pleading at her willpower. Give in. Let it take control. Fortunately, the cold acted as a distraction. She could focus on trying to stay warm, setting up her tent, and making it to the next day. If she could get past the night, she would feel better in the morning. She was certain of it. She scrunched her brow and gritted her teeth, determined to make it that long.
A dim glow from one of the nearby tents caught her eye. A silhouette danced back and forth, a flurry of motion in the otherwise still night.
While all the other tents had long since gone dark, Dr. Scott was still working inside of his. His determination to find the missing engineers perked Char’s interest. Or maybe, his late-night interests had nothing to do with the engineers, rather a professional scientific curiosity.
