Chapter 6
John Doe
Praking hell. The weather fields for the entire block had just shut down. John knew that the authorities on Orion Minor were lax when it came to repairing field holes on the lower levels, but this was ridiculous. They had obviously ignored maintenance for so long that a critical cascade had occurred.
As John flung himself along the promenade, the electronic hum of his armor’s joints filtering through the roar of the wind, he made a mental note to have a chat with the Orion Prime once this was all over. Treating the slums like the galaxy's dumping ground was one thing - a particularly deplorable but politically acceptable thing - but endangering the 20,000 plus inhabitants of Block Alpha was not.
‘Stop,’ John suddenly bellowed. His stomach snapped in, a tight sensation of fright rushing through him.
Not only had that woman not run inside with everyone else when the weather fields had shut down, but she was now looking like she wanted to jump right over the railings.
They were currently 3412 meters exactly above ground level. John did not need to access the ICN to calculate that no soft-fleshed alien - no matter how spruced up with implants - could survive that fall. The salt-laden winds would rip her to shreds well before her lungs burst and her skin snapped off from the cold.
She hesitated, her body shifting back the smallest distance. And then she threw herself forward.
John felt rendered to the spot, eyes bulging wide as he watched. Was it suicide or sheer stupidity?
He got over his shock though. Then John Doe ran after the woman.
‘Computer, access the nav system of the Pegasus,’ he snapped, voice sounding out even though it didn't have to. He was using his implant to link up to the ICN again, giving it one last-ditch desperate order before Commander John Doe did something very, very stupid.
He ran after her, legs pumping as the armor upgrade the ICN had given him began to seize up, salt collecting in every groove and joint.
He watched in horror as the woman, her hood somehow still in place, grabbed hold of the railing and vaulted down. Maybe he saw her mouth for a split second, maybe he registered the lips drawn up in a terrified grimace, but not once did he see her eyes. Despite the ferocious updraft that would be slamming into her, the fabric stayed resolutely in place.
Seconds later John clamped his hands on the railing and jumped over himself.
The second he did was the second the ICN began blaring warnings in his ear. Everything form a location warning to a velocity warning to a bloody weather warning.
‘Hey, what the hell is going on down there?’ a voice suddenly sounded in his ear.
As John's eyes plastered open, the view of the building shooting past him as he dropped like an armor-clad stone, he sucked in a breath.
‘Did you just jump off the freaking building?’
It was Parka, John's enigmatic engineer. Responsible for maintaining the systems of John's ship, the Pegasus, Parka had never been one for respecting the chain of command.
‘Are you a freaking idiot? That armor upgrade is already seizing,’ Parka snapped. ‘What the hell are you doing down there, John?’
‘Getting cold,’ he managed. Because he really, really was. As his armor began to shut down, his hastily made and ineffective upgrade no match for the natural weather of Orion Minor, the salt and wind were forcing their way in through the cracks.
‘No, I can see that. Just integrating with your medical implant now,’ Parka said, voice drawing out, then she let out a short, sharp huff, ‘you've got 20 seconds before the cold shuts down your brain. Oh, and 10 seconds before a gust of wind slams you into the building,’ Parka added in a tight, frantic breath. ‘Beaming you out.’
Before John could snap at Parka to hold off, the familiar light of the transport beam shot towards him. Racing through any building in its way, piercing through any structure no matter how thick, large, and sturdy, the transport beam grabbed hold of John.
Just before it could break up his molecules and send him hurtling back to the ship, John managed to drop the node.
That had been his plan. John was a lot of things, and certain commanders had always referred to him as a risk-taker, but he wasn't a bloody idiot. He hadn't jumped off this building thinking he would somehow catch the woman and wrestle her though the nearest smart-glass ceiling he could find; the fall would kill them both.
His only option had always been to drop a node her way so the Pegasus computers could pick up a scan long enough to pinpoint her position for transport.
Just as John lost all grip in his hand as it began to break up, he dropped the node. He always had one or two in his pockets; simple tech that carried a signal the Pegasus could latch onto. You never knew when they would come in handy.
Just as John's body finally disintegrated entirely, he caught one last glance of the woman.
She was free falling. But her arms were held out wide, her legs stiff. She was also not dead - his armor was holding it together just long enough that he could pick up the heat of her body. But for how long he did not know.
Seconds later John's view changed. The image of that woman dropping through the white, salt-laced winds of Orion Minor seared into his mind, the black swirl of being transported was replaced by a sheer white light. Then John Doe reintegrated on the bridge of the Pegasus.
He didn't stumble, he didn't fall to the ground and have a fit, and neither did he indulge in a little scream. He was no rookie; he'd transported more times than he could count. Still, the feel of his bones and muscles and skin and body suddenly seemed wrong, and just for a second he fought the urge to try to rip it all off. Transporting did that. The sensation of being recreated by a powerful light was not spiritual and it was not fun. And some people simply could not hack it.
John was not one of those people.
Taking a brisk step forward, ignoring the fact you weren't meant to make any sudden movements so soon after reintegration, he nodded at the computer officer before him. ‘Lock onto the node's transmission and beam that woman now.’