3. Carter

THREE

CARTER

I searched about on the floor until I recovered a sharp bit of metal. Carefully, I used it to cut strips from the leggings of my jumpsuit to make a crude bandage.

I gave up on trying to tie it around my torso. I just crammed the wadded strips against my side and hoped for the best. With effort, I was able to get to my feet and stagger to the crumpled lift.

I hoped to cannibalize parts in order to fix my compad, but I soon discovered the gunfire had reduced the electronic components to slagged scrap. I bent over until my head rested against the cold metal and moaned.

My only hope was to explore the alien facility, and hope that I came across something that could get a signal to the surface.

The strange green metal formed the walls, the floors, pretty much every surface. It seemed to be one solid piece, without panels or sections. I wondered how they could have manufactured it.

My scientist's curiosity drove me on as much, or more, than my desire to survive. I found my way to an X junction, with three separate paths branching off from the one I had traversed.

"Well, which way leads to salvation, and which way to more of those cyborg monsters? Or do any of them lead anywhere of significance?"

Nothing replied to my query. Which was just as well. The last thing I needed was another episode of psychosis.

I leaned against the wall for support as I chose the left hand path. I had read somewhere once that you could find your way out of any maze simply by following the left hand path religiously. I left bloody handprints for the first dozen yards or so. I looked down at my ribs and found my makeshift bandage had at least slowed the seeping tide.

I reached a metal iris, closed like a tightly focused eye. Feeling about with blood-sticky fingers, I found a small depression. Simply touching the small groove activated the iris, spiraling it open to reveal a steam-filled tunnel.

Sweat beaded on my brow as I entered the tunnel. The white mist obscured my path, but I could still make out a larger chamber ahead. More importantly, I thought I saw something that could be a control panel or computer terminal.

I moved a little faster, even though it hurt, until I reached the chamber. It formed a nearly perfect circle, the walls covered with circuity in patterns I found difficult to comprehend. I could make out a symbol for Continuum, which probably referred to the time/space variety, but I couldn't be sure.

To my surprise, I discovered a molded seat near a boxish structure covered in alien symbols. I settled into the chair, and realized it had never been intended for a human. I felt like a child inside of it, and had to lean forward in a most awkward way to touch the console.

"What is this?"

The symbols lay on belted tracks, which could be adjusted by hand. I realized then that this was a mechanical way of setting coordinates.

But what kind of coordinates? I had long ago learned how to do superluminal calculations by hand, without any assistance from a computer. These formulas were so mind-bogglingly complex and arcane, I had no idea where to even start.

"I could spend an entire lifetime just trying to figure out the purpose of this room. For all I know, this is a coffee bar. Or it could be the station's power source, or perhaps the nerve center."

My voice sounded hollow and tinny to my ears. The metal walls had a peculiar capacity for sound absorption. I fiddled with the metal bands, changing the symbols just to try and judge their function.

A click sounded heavily in the air, and the symbols lit up.

"Now I've done it. Curiosity and the cat, and all of that…"

I waited for something to happen, expecting the worst. I started to rise from the seat, and the symbols flashed red.

A metal band snapped out and trapped me around the waist. I cried out, hand clutching at it in futile struggles.

"What is this?"

The numbers changed back to their normal white hue. I started as the bands moved of their own accord, changing the configuration of the symbols.

"No, stop!"

I kicked at the console, but it never stopped moving. I squirmed like a madman to escape the band, opening up the gash on my side again. I didn't care, I just knew I had to escape, I had to break free?—

The symbols lit up until they grew too painful to look at. I squeezed my eyes shut and let out a scream of terror and misery. The light grew ever brighter, until it burned like fire. My scream turned to a breathless rasp, and I waited for the end.

For what seemed like an eternity, I floated in an abyss. I could not see, I could not hear, I could not feel. I panicked, realizing that I did not breathe and my heart no longer beat. I don't think I even had a heart, or a body at all.

Desperate to feel something, anything, I imagined myself waking up, again and again. I felt as if I were trapped somewhere between waking and a dream, my mind aware but my body still offline.

Is this death? Just drifting through emptiness, unable to feel, only able to think? It's more like Hell.

I never believed in an afterlife, or the reincarnation religion of the Alliance and the Ataxians alike. I always thought that consciousness was intrinsically tied to the physical form. Without a living body to preserve the brain, then what amounted to the ‘self' would vanish.

Yet, I existed without a body, or a brain for that matter. I wondered if it were all a hallucination, a moment in time stretched out to virtual infinity.

What was that silly novella they foisted upon us in that undergraduate literature course? Something about a bridge. Owl creek bridge. A man facing execution envisions an entire escape fantasy in the seconds before he is hanged.

Perhaps I am simply not that imaginative.

Something thudded hard, shaking my non-physical being to its core. It came again, and again, in a steady rhythm.

The thudding intensified, concentrated in my chest.

Wait, I have a chest! And I'm breathing, and I can feel my body. I'm laying on something soft, and I'm terribly thirsty…

I opened my eyes and focused on an unfamiliar ceiling. Not the smooth silver-gray of the Alliance cruiser, nor the merciless black of my cell on Novaria. This was strange, yet familiar.

Emerald metal. Must still be inside the Precursor facility. But why do I feel so strange?

The metal wasn't quite the same. Lines of faintly glowing light traced in patterns similar to circuitry. Had someone managed to power up the facility while I lay bleeding to death at the bottom of the shaft?

I felt my side with ginger probing of my fingertips. No sticky blood, no pain. My wound appeared healed as if it never existed.

A sharp gasp drew my attention. I moved my gaze from the ceiling at a snail's pace. It felt as if my mind had to accustom itself to being attached to a body again.

The dark chamber I lay in was little larger than my cell on Novaria. Unlike my cell, the lone door held no bars or force fields. Also unlike my cell, I was not alone.

A figure crouched near the foot of the bed, as if they sought to hide behind it. Long, slender fingers clutched at the metal bedpost. A pair of large, almond shaped eyes of the purest purple stared up at me.

Eyes like luminous twilight. They glint like a cat's gaze.

"Where am I?"

My voice croaked, dry as a board twisted by a desert sun. My thirst burned so badly I could scarcely breathe.

The figure stood up, resolving itself into a humanoid form with feminine curves. Her lavender skin changed to a darker hue near her shoulders and back. Something moved behind her, and I stared in surprise until I realized what I saw.

A tail. She has a tail. I've been rescued by aliens. Just my luck.

I did not recognize her species. She appeared similar in form to a human, other than her coloration and the fine scales on her shoulders, back, and tail. As I took in more details, I realized she had a nasty bruise on her right cheek, which also showed signs of swelling. She wore a leather harness that protected her modesty, but just barely.

Which was more than I could say for myself. I lay on the bed without even a blanket to cover my shame.

"Forgive me," I said out of politeness as I moved to cover myself up. One of my limbs slid up and covered my privates, but it was not a hand.

I had a tail, too.

I sucked in a deep breath, and then let out a scream of pure terror. My voice sounded strange to my ears, deeper and more resonant.

The female alien screamed as well. She fled out of the room as I stared in horror at my body.

Calm down, Carter. You're a man of science, so calm down. This isn't a dream, because you're just not that imaginative. And it can't be a holographic simulation. It could be some kind of psychotic, hallucinogenic break but that's not likely.

I slowed my breaths, let go of the side of the bed I clutched so tightly, and let the tension ease from my shoulders and neck. The screaming outside of my room stopped.

The device I activated in the ruins must be responsible for this. I've switched bodies with an alien on some godforsaken world. Oh, how Dowron would be amused!

I forced myself to remain calm, though my thoughts wanted to race. Whatever had been done to me could likely be undone. I just had to figure out how.

Given that the metal walls looked the same as those in the Lunar base, it was possible the alien I'd switched minds with was not far away. I might even be able to find my real body.

I went to the window, pulling aside the intricately stitched animal hide. Three moons shone down upon me from on high, mingling with a vast tapestry of stars.

I stumbled back and fell upon the bed once more. Not Luna, then. Not Earth, or any system I'd ever heard of. My specialty wasn't in astronomy or celestial navigation, but still I felt as if I should have found something familiar about the night sky.

Even the heavens are denied to me here. Perhaps this is my penance for my time spent with Project Blue Dawn. I suppose I have to admire the gods' sense of irony if that's the case.

Footsteps rushed up outside the door. I looked that way as another alien entered, this one a male. He wore a long robe over his scaled form. When he moved, he jingled from many pouches and bangles secured to his waist.

His yellowed scales struck me as a sign of advanced age, as did his hunched posture. He approached the bed with what seemed inordinate caution, as if I were a wild animal rather than a member of his own species.

I caught movement at the door. The female had returned, barely peeking in the room. I soon realized that the lumps I'd taken for bony protrusions on her head were, in fact, tufts of roughly shorn hair.

The old alien had long, wispy blonde hair, and I appeared to have hair black as midnight cut into a single, bushy stripe down my skull. I assumed the females shaved their heads for some arcane reason and put it out of my mind.

"Gro," the old alien rasped. "Are you well?"

I could understand him, so I took a leap of faith that he could understand me.

"I feel well enough physically."

Now I found myself faced with a dilemma. If I confessed my condition, that I was a member of an alien—to them—species from a far off star who had possessed their countryman's body, there were many reactions they might have.

They might not believe me, in which case I would be treated for insanity or mental illness. No matter what culture you come from, that's not a good trajectory to follow.

Or, they might decide to believe me, and even try to help me switch back to my real body. That didn't seem likely, however.

If they did believe me, the likely outcome would be incarceration and intensive experimentation in an effort to get their native son back into his own body.

So telling the truth was out. That left me with one clear option, a narrative easy to pull off given my total naivete about my surroundings.

"Physically, you say?"

His neck moved as he swallowed, taking a cautious half step forward. I was beginning to wonder if I was radioactive.

"Yes." I covered my face with my hand. "This is quite embarrassing. I'm afraid I don't know who I am. In fact, I don't remember much of anything at all."

The assumed doctor's eyes narrowed.

"I see. Such loss of memory sometimes happens in Backlash cases like your own."

"Backlash?"

The doctor's eyes widened, and a gasp stole his breath.

"You do not remember anything, do you? Most profound. Do you know where you were born?"

"No."

"Do you know when you were born?"

I shook my head.

"I see. Do you know your name, or the name of your parents?"

I sighed.

"It's a blank slate. I'm sorry. I wish I could remember. It's quite frustrating."

The doctor nodded.

"I imagine that it is. The good news is that your body seems to be in outstanding shape. The Backlash didn't harm you, not physically. Your mind, your memories…you may have to live with the fact that they will never return."

I had to hide my elation.

Yes! This is the ideal circumstance. I can avoid wasting time on pointless therapies or suffering the expectations of those who want my memories to return…

I wonder if this alien has a family? A job? Do they have jobs? They seem almost tribal, primitive even, yet there's evidence of high technology.

"I understand…I'm sorry, I do not know your name."

"I am Physicker Floran. Your name, though I suppose it will have no meaning to you, is Gro."

"Gro." I repeated the word. Simple, monosyllabic. I felt like a fool. "Tell me, Physicker, what is my role in society?"

"Your role?" he blinked his eyes rapidly. "You are a warrior, bred and trained to defend our City-State from those who would do it harm."

"A warrior?" I couldn't hide my contempt.

"Yes."

He cleared his throat. I wondered how many mannerisms carried over between our species. Supposedly the Precursor theory explained such things. Normally I scoffed at the theory, but in my current situation I realized I could discount nothing.

"Gro, while I sympathize with the difficulty you must be having with your condition, I have to ask you to leave this hospital. You're taking up room that could go to someone who I can truly help."

I chuckled.

"I'm being discharged, then? Fair enough. I don't suppose I have any clothing about, or is it my habit to walk around naked?"

The woman cringing near the door flinched. The doctor's lips pulled back in a smile.

"It is not your habit, so far as I am aware. Your clothing was destroyed in the Backlash, but I believe your lifemate brought you some new garments. They are in the closet behind you."

"Thank you."

I went to the closet, finding the door to be a simple beaded curtain. Within, I found a stiff hide skirt designed to accommodate my tail, and a sleeveless shirt, both the same dark walnut brown hue.

It looked strange against my scarlet skin. I opened and closed my fists before bending over to check the floor of the closet.

"Are there any shoes, or boots or something?—"

Something clicked in my mind. Something that the Physicker said.

I stood bolt upright and rounded on Floran.

"Wait a second, did you say ‘lifemate?'"