The Rush's Edge Read online

  Vivi and Ty replaced the mattress, sheets, and blankets before they came to get Hal up and into bed.

  “I swear I heard it,” Hal murmured.

  “I know,” Vivi said as she pulled the blanket over him. Slowly Hal’s hand dropped from his head and his face eased as the pain melted away. When he’d fallen back asleep, she came over to help Beryl and Ty put the room back to rights.

  “Will he sleep OK now?” Vivi asked as she picked up the squads board and placed it back on his table.

  “Yes, sweetheart.” Beryl nodded.

  “It’s… it’s that damn planet. Ever since we landed there, something’s been off,” Ty grumbled as he refolded Hal’s clothes and packed them back away.

  “With Hal?” Vivi said.

  “With Hal, the ship, everything,” Ty brooded. When they were done, he crossed his arms over his chest, and leaned back against the wall. “We’re finding out what the hell this is tomorrow. I don’t care if we have to take this ship apart bolt by bolt, reprogram Runa, or rip out the whole main computer.” He kept his voice low, but it took on a steely tone. His eyes glinted darkly with focus and determination, as if he were going to start taking the ship apart right now. Vivi suddenly saw what a force Ty must have been as an ACAS officer.

  “We will. We’ll figure it out,” Beryl said.

  Ty nodded. “Good.” Before leaving, he placed a reassuring hand on Vivi’s shoulder. “It’s going to be OK. Get some rest,” he told her, but she could sense he was not as calm as he was trying to seem.

  “Call me if you need me.” Beryl grabbed her bag, manually lowered the lights and followed Vivi from the room.

  Vivi returned to her room and slipped into her bed but couldn’t fall asleep. What did Hal hear? she wondered. Is it linked somehow to the interference he had with his interface? The possibilities kept her awake for several hours to come.

  But like Ty said, they would find out soon enough.

  NINETEEN

  The next day was long and rough for all of them. Vivi spent most of her time using Runa’s programming to create a detailed report of all errors the computer had experienced in the last month. She ran a diagnostic for each error but came up with nothing more than they knew already.

  Ty crawled over the hull inch by inch, looking for anything that would explain the sounds Hal claimed to have heard the night before. Beryl and Hal examined data from the ship’s internal sensors and cameras, searching all the ship’s footage after the battle, and right before Hal’s problems the night before. The sensors picked up no voices or sounds at all.

  During dinner that night, they were all tired and sitting in the common area while the newsfeed burbled on in the background. Beryl had thrown together a thick stew made out of the vegetables and vat-grown meat she’d purchased in Jaleeth’s marketplace. Served with a loaf of warm crusty bread, they all ate until there was nothing left except a smile of pride on Beryl’s face.

  “You outdid yourself, Beryl,” Ty said, wiping the last bit of soup from his bowl with his remaining bread.

  “Thanks,” she grinned.

  They all murmured their appreciation. When things quieted again, Ty pushed his bowl away and sat back, gearing up to say something important.

  “Well, we’ve turned this place upside down, but we haven’t turned up anything new. What we know is this: nothing strange happened before our trip to that planet. We might have a handle on the computer problems,” Ty said thoughtfully, “but the whispering Hal’s hearing is something else. I also noticed that something’s happened to the allenium we brought on board.”

  “What do you mean?” Hal asked.

  “It’s disintegrating. It’s breaking down somehow. The piece I touched crumbled to dust in my hand.”

  “I can look at it under the microscope and find what’s happened,” Beryl said.

  “Good,” Ty nodded.

  “Hey, shh. It’s Omicron,” Vivi said, reaching to the monitor to turn up the volume. The man on the feed was wearing a fluorescent containment suit. A chyron at the foot of the image identified him as a doctor named Balen.

  “As far as we know, three have died so far,” he was telling a young reporter. “We are working around the clock to contain the infection and treat citizens. Until we isolate whatever is causing this, Omicron Station will remain under quarantine, enforced by the ACAS. No ships will be allowed to come or go from the station.”

  “Dr Balen,” the interviewer asked, “we have heard that the deceased people so far have been vat veterans. Is this true?”

  “At this time, I can neither confirm nor deny those rumors, but my team is working around the clock to find answers.”

  “Thank you, Dr Balen. Our thoughts are with the brave people on Omicron Station. Now back to you, Alicia.”

  “What the hell?” Ty whispered. “Something’s killing vats?”

  “I recognize that guy. From the vat facility,” Hal said, uncomfortably.

  “You do?” Ty asked.

  Hal nodded. “He was the head of the whole place. He… was terrifying to the younger vats.”

  Beryl looked to Hal, who seemed worried. “Whatever’s going on there, you’re fine.” She glanced around the room. “If there was anything wrong with you, I would be able to tell. This is just some excuse to keep Omicron shut down while they look for us.”

  Ty nodded. “Runa, can you monitor the feeds for updates on that story?” he asked.

  Of course, Tyce.

  “Alright. Let’s take a break for now,” Ty said. “Even though we haven’t found anything so far, we’ll pick it up tomorrow and start pulling hatch covers. We might even reboot Runa. Starting her back at default settings might be a pain in the ass, but it could make a difference. Either way, I’m not giving up.”

  Vivi had headed back to her room, but realized she’d left her handheld on the table. She wanted to do some research on the Loshad’s starship class specs and was returning to the galley when she overheard Ty and Beryl talking. She knew she shouldn’t eavesdrop on conversations, but their low, worried tones froze her in place.

  “Ty, I know why you are worried, but it’s not Hal’s time yet. Whatever that was last night, it’s not his last days,” Beryl said.

  “But you’ve said yourself some vats live longer than the expiration date. Maybe some… don’t.” Ty’s voice cracked on the last word. “Beryl, he’s hearing things that aren’t there… maybe that’s some sort of sign that…”

  When Vivi stepped into the galley, they immediately stopped talking. “What kind of sign?” she asked in alarm.

  They both paused, and Ty’s head fell.

  “Sit down, Vivi,” Beryl sighed, patting the seat beside her.

  “Wait. I want to know what you–”

  “Just sit down,” Tyce murmured, letting out another sigh and rubbing his forehead.

  “What’s going to happen to Hal?” Vivi asked in a whisper.

  Tyce was struggling for words, so Beryl spoke up. “Vats don’t live much past thirty-five, Vivi.”

  She shook her head. “That’s crazy. Lifespans are… well, at least a hundred these days.”

  Beryl shook her head and put a hand on Vivi’s arm to steady her, the way she usually did when giving bad news. “Not for vats, sweetheart. It’s something in their biology. Adrenaline fatigue syndrome, it’s been called. For some, it’s a quick death. Others hang on for a few years. Two or three at the most.”

  “But there must be some sort of treatment, some medicine…” Vivi couldn’t believe it. How had she not been aware of this? She’d known she was naïve when she arrived on the Edge, but she was just starting to realize how clueless those on the Inside really were.

  Beryl shook her head. “No. I can manage Hal’s symptoms – when it happens – and make him comfortable, but that’s all,” Beryl said. “I’m sorry, Vivi.”

  “How… How old is he now?”

  “Twenty-nine,” Ty said with difficulty.

  Vivi stood up quickly, looking
from Beryl to Ty, eyes wide with horror. “Six years? If he’s lucky? That’s all? Why that’s… that’s no time at all. It’s not long enough. How can he…” She was flailing for words, stunned by the horrible truth. “It’s not right.” Tears spilled over as she wiped at her cheeks furiously. “I… I have to go. I can’t…” She turned toward her room, and slammed right into Hal, who had come up behind her. She looked into his face and let out an uncontrollable gasp, tears spilling over.

  He steadied her, his hands on her shoulders, but his face was somber. It was obvious that he’d heard their conversation as well. “Don’t cry,” he said gently. “It’s OK, Veevs.”

  The only thing she could feel was the hot rush of blood in her face as anger swelled inside her and came out in more tears. “Oh Hal! No, it’s not. It’s not OK at all.”

  She pushed past him and was gone.

  Ty and Beryl were keeping an eye on the Edge’s newsfeed to see if anything had developed, when it occurred to Ty that he hadn’t seen Vivi or Hal for a while. It was awfully quiet around the ship. Earlier, Hal had been stunned that Vivi was upset. When he’d left the room, Ty had just assumed that he was going to find her and work things out. But things were just too quiet. “Runa. Locate Hal and Vivi.”

  Vivi is in her quarters. Hal is no longer on the ship.

  Beryl’s gaze met Ty’s. “Damn,” Ty growled.

  “Maybe he told Vivi where he was going?” Beryl suggested.

  They knocked on Vivi’s door a moment later. When it slid open, they saw she had calmed a little. She looked pale, though, and her eyes were red and watery. “I’m sorry about earlier,” she said immediately. “I shouldn’t have–”

  Ty interrupted her. “It’s OK, Vivi – but Hal’s left the ship. Did he say where he was going?”

  “Wha… No. I haven’t spoken to him,” Vivi said. “I thought he was with you.”

  “Runa, locate Hal’s comm.”

  Hal’s comm is on the ship. It has been stationary for two hours.

  Ty took a deep breath. “Damn it. I should have expected this.”

  “It’s no one’s fault, Ty,” Beryl said.

  “Vivi. You’re with me.”

  She nodded, turning around to grab a jacket and the blaspistol Hal had given her.

  “Beryl stay here with the ship. If he comes back–”

  “I’ll comm you.”

  After stopping by Ty’s room to grab his own weapon, they were ready to go. They exited the cargo ramp and walked out into the night cycle on Jaleeth.

  TWENTY

  Turner Eyler, the owner of the Fusion Bar, had just finished introducing the next pair of fighters to be locked up in the cage when the lady threw a punch at her opponent and almost broke his jaw instead. Luckily Turner was not only fast talking but even faster at dodging. He missed getting hit and quickly left the cage before it locked behind him.

  “Vat bitch,” he muttered as he returned to the bar to down another couple of shots. It was a full crowd tonight; vat fights were always a big draw. The door itself would bring in enough scrilla to keep the bar running another month.

  Introducing the vat fights had been Eyler’s idea. He had bought the bar and its fixtures from the previous Al-Kimian owner a year ago, then had immediately taken down the rich tapestries and native artworks and sold them. Now, the place was made up of bare walls, chairs and booths and the giant cage he’d had built in the back for fighting. It turned a pretty fair profit most of the time.

  Someone tapped him on the shoulder. A large blonde man with a cut over one eyebrow stood behind him. “I wanna fight tonight,” he said simply.

  “Yeah? So do you and about twenty others,” Eyler snickered, as he tapped the bar for his bartender to refill his glass.

  “Either I fight in there, or I’m gonna fight out here. Your choice,” the man countered.

  Eyler glanced back and saw promise in the ice of the blonde’s blue eyes. Eyler’s gaze then flicked down to the man’s wrist where he saw the lines and squares of a vat tattoo. Another one, he thought. “Alright. If you’ve got a hard-on to get your ass kicked tonight, I got the guy for you.” He smirked. “Go wait in the back. Talk to Jackson and tell him I want you up there next.”

  Eyler watched the guy head back toward the dressing rooms. He was normal height, but thick with muscle. Like most vats, he probably worked out like other people drank water. He would definitely do better than the jack-loads who asked to go up and impress their girlfriends with a beat down.

  “Here.” The man in the locker room eyed Hal suspiciously. The place smelled like stale sweat with a hint of mildew. It was dark, with just a few bare light sources that were working. Hal felt the other fighters sizing him up. Most were vats, with a few nats here and there.

  “You deaf? Here!” the fight coordinator growled. “Fight shorts and your amp.” Jackson, a balding man with frizzy strips of hair over each ear, narrowed one eye. Hal could tell he hated vats, but then again, a man like this probably hated everyone.

  “Don’t need it.” Hal stripped to his waist and began to remove his boots and socks. His fatigue pants were easy to move in, and he had fought in them many times before.

  Jackson frowned, then pushed the injector of amp on him. “You can wear whatcha want, but everyone goin’ out there gets amp. Boss doesn’t want you goin’ down in the first round. Give everyone what they paid for.”

  Hal gritted his teeth. Amp was a combat drug – a stronger version of a stim shot. He’d been given amp in the ACAS when they knew the fight was going to be a long or hard one. It would make a vat able to go for days without food, water or sleep, depending on the dosage. With it, he could get seriously injured and not even know it. But it caused crippling muscle cramps later, unless a neutralizer was taken too. At least it wasn’t something worse, he thought, feeling sick at the thought of what Ty would say. His mind turned to Vivi and he instantly felt worse.

  Jackson leaned in, wrinkling his nose as if looking at something freakish. “What the hell? Never seen a vat turn its nose up at amp. C’mon, I ain’t got all day.”

  The word “it” crawled under Hal’s skin like the larvae of a jadefly. “Back the fuck up.” Hal leaned in to meet Jackson’s eyes, so close their foreheads were almost touching.

  Like most, the man stepped back, grumbling. “Easy, vat. You’ll get the neutralizer after your fight.”

  There were a few chuckles among the fighters as they watched Jackson back away. Hal snatched the single use injector from his hand, snapped off the top and slammed it home in his bicep. He could feel the drug hit his brain like a mallet as he threw the empty medjet to the floor. Damn, he thought, it’s been a while. He squeezed his eyes closed a moment, to allow the energy and focus to settle in.

  When he opened his eyes again, he was ready.

  Ty and Vivi began by checking the bars that had vat fights. On their way down, Ty said he thought they might find Hal fighting there. He’d done it for a few months before Ty had joined him on the Edge. Many vats had lost their lives in a cage like that, Ty explained, driven there by urges hammered into them via their ACAS conditioning. So, they focused on those bars first. This one, the second one they checked, had a large, open dance area with an elevated cage near the back. It was a rough looking place, with bare walls, a chipped bar, and a rowdy, drunken crowd of vats hyped for a fight.

  They were being jostled by the large crowd, so Ty pulled Vivi close and guided her through, an arm around her waist. When they reached the middle of the room, both froze. Hal was on the caged platform in front of them, engaged in combat with another vat. The crowd went “oooh” when Hal was bodyslammed against the mat by the giant fighter in front of him. He got back to his feet quickly, though.

  “Oh my gods… That guy – he’s huge!” Vivi said.

  “Size doesn’t matter in a fight. Big guy just means bigger target,” Ty said in her ear. “Hal was an elite trooper. He’ll be OK.”

  Both fighters were stripped to the waist. His op
ponent was wearing fighting shorts and Hal was dressed in his combat fatigue pants. They were barefoot and barefisted: not a stitch of protective gear anywhere in sight. Hal bounced up and down on his toes, continually making himself a moving target.

  Ty checked the clock behind them. “Nine minutes,” he said grimly as the counter went upwards.

  “How many rounds does it go?”

  “This one doesn’t have rounds. It goes until someone’s unconscious. Jaleeth doesn’t have many rules, but death matches aren’t allowed.”

  “Death matches?” Vivi asked, swallowing hard as she looked up and saw Hal’s head rock back as it met the other vat’s fist.

  “Some places allow them.” Ty was slowly bringing them around the ring while moving closer.

  Hal countered with two punches, a body blow followed by another left and a kick that swept his opponent’s feet out from under him. But the other fighter had latched on and they both went down in a knot of arms and legs, each grappling for the upper hand.

  They broke apart, releasing simultaneously, and were back on their feet within seconds. Hal wiped at his eye, and it was clear he was cut.

  It could be worse, Ty reminded himself. Just remember, it could be much, much worse. Rapidly, memories flashed through his mind. Hal, lying in an alley, nulled out of his mind. Ty’s own little brother, Caleb, lying still and cold on the bathroom floor, a vial of the same poison in his clenched fist. He could still feel the tiles under his feet and smell of death in the room.

  Focus on the living, he told himself. He shook his head to clear the images away and then focused on Hal. The other vat was now pounding Hal with fists like slabs of stone. He had to be doing some damage.

  “Can’t we get him out of there?” Vivi begged.

  Ty shook his head grimly. “Not until it’s over.”

  “Hal!” Vivi screamed as he was thrown against the cage.

  “Vivi.” Ty leaned in again so she could hear him. “He won’t hear us until it’s done.” Ty knew Hal was in the middle of the rush and could only hear the pounding of his own blood.