“We will reach you as quickly as we can.”
“What’s your name again?” she asked.
“Commander Dagon.”
“How long will it take you to reach me, Dagon?” Her heart pounded with dread as she awaited his response.
“You are farther away than we anticipated.”
Don’t panic, damn it. “How much farther? I can stretch the oxygen and make it last.”
“No, you can’t,” he replied, his voice soft with sorrow.
“I can,” she insisted. “I can slow my heart rate, slow my metabolism, and slow my breathing so I consume less oxygen. I can do it.” Ordinary humans could not. But Immortal Guardians could, thanks to the symbiotic virus that infected them. She could actually slow her breathing and heart rate to such an extent that doctors would declare her dead.
“Lasarans sent us detailed information on Earthling anatomy so we would be able to render medical aid to any we found,” he countered. “That information did not indicate that Earthlings are capable of such.”
She swore silently. “I know. But not all Earthlings are alike. I’m different. I’m stronger. And I need you to trust me on this, okay? How long does the oxygen have to last for you to make it here?” She could do this. She would do this.
A sigh carried across the line. “It will take us one of your Earth months to reach you.”
All breath left her lungs. “A month?” she repeated, head spinning with sudden dizziness.
His voice was full of regret when he answered. “Yes.”
Tears burned the backs of her eyes, but she stubbornly blinked them back. “Well… damn. That’s a long time.” Too long. Even she couldn’t make twenty-six hours of oxygen last thirty days.
Could she?
“We are contacting other members of the alliance to see if any of their ships are closer to you.”
She swallowed past the lump in her throat. “Thank you. I appreciate that.” Her mind worked furiously. “In the meantime, would you maybe head my way and see if any of my friends or the Lasarans are somewhere between us? If I survived the attack in a suit, then some of those escape pods had to have made it, too, and they might be closer to you.”
“We are already on our way to you and are traveling at top speed.”
“Thank you.” Even at top speed, they were still a month away. “How long can they survive in one of those pods?”
“The pods have enough oxygen and rations to sustain life for…” He muttered something in his language. “For two of your Earth months.”
Relief rushed through her. “Good.”
“They were designed in such a way to provide those inside with adequate time to either reach their chosen destination or locate a habitable planet on which they can seek shelter.”
“My friends can’t do that. They don’t know how to pilot those things.” The Lasarans had only schooled them on how to activate the distress call beacon, obtain enough rations to keep them alive, and how to use the weird space toilet inside it.
“As soon as we lock onto their beacon, one of my men can remote pilot the pods for them. The Lasarans have given us the override codes.”
“Good.” At least they would have a fighting chance.
Dagon fell silent once more. Every once in a while, she could hear him speak softly to the men on what she assumed was the bridge of his ship.
Fear kept trying to creep in and choke her. Eliana steadfastly pushed it back and turned her mind toward finding her friends.
A thought occurred to her. “Will talking to me keep you from receiving incoming communications from someone else or detecting distress beacons?” Though she had spent four months aboard the Lasaran ship, she still knew little about how one operated.
“No. My communications officer can continue to search for the others while we speak.”
“Who is your comms officer?” she asked curiously.
“Janek.”
“Can the other people on your bridge hear us talking?”
“Yes.”
“Hey, Janek?” she called.
All background conversation ceased.
“Yes, Earthling?”
Despite the gravity of her situation, she laughed… then wished she hadn’t when the pain in her side multiplied. “Being called Earthling is just too weird. Call me Eliana.”
A pause ensued. “Yes, Eliana?”
“Were you the one who spoke to me before Dagon did?”
“Yes.”
“Thank you for waking me.”
Another pause. “You are welcome, Eliana.”
“No matter what happens to me, please keep searching for my friends, okay? You all seem like good guys. So if I can’t save them, I want you to.”
“I am searching for them now,” he assured her.
“Thank you.”
Eliana stared at the stars. She had twenty-six hours of oxygen, and Dagon’s ship was a month away.
Correction. She had a little less than twenty-six hours of oxygen since she had been speaking to them for several minutes. “Dagon?”
“Yes?” he responded instantly.
“I’m going to try to slow my heart rate and sleep for a bit. Would you please keep the comms link open so I can hear you?” She was more afraid than she was letting on and didn’t want to lose the connection to them even for a second, terrified she might not get it back. “You don’t have to speak English or anything. I just…” Tears threatened once more, but she kept them from altering her voice. “It’s never quiet where I’m from.” Especially since she had preternaturally sharp hearing. “And I’m guessing deep space is completely silent.” The last thing she needed was for that silence to close in and make her feel more alone.
“We will keep communications open,” he agreed.
He had a nice voice. A very telling voice. She didn’t have to see him to know that his inability to save her upset him.
“Thank you.”
Closing her eyes, she tried to clear her mind and block out the pain. The latter was pretty damn difficult. The peculiar symbiotic virus that infected her was healing what damage it could. The bleeding slowed. One broken rib slowly shifted back into position in torturously small increments.
Eliana listened to the activity on Dagon’s ship.
Her breathing slowed.
Her heart rate decreased.
And consciousness gradually slipped away.
Dagon stood in the center of a circular room. The only furniture in it was a padded bench that hugged the wall all the way around. Breath slow, he waited… and tried once more to turn his mind away from the Earth woman he had failed to save.
A flicker of movement drew his eyes to one side. The wall to his right seemed to shimmer faintly. Spinning, Dagon struck out with his sword and hit metal where there appeared to be none.
A curse filled the air, not his own.
He swung his weapon again and again, each time striking his invisible target. He straightened his free arm. The armor protecting it elongated into a chain that slipped down through his fingers and formed a heavy metal ball on the end. In battle, the ball would be covered in spikes. But now it was smooth.
He swung his sword, then spun and let the ball fly in an arc.