Dread fills the crevices where human parts haven't touched me yet. We all jitter with terror. Wherever we've landed, it's unscheduled. I have no idea where the hell we are or where the fuck we're going.
As soon as we settle after the bumpy touchdown, the yaks form semi-circles around each container. One of them taps on the glass of our enclosure. It hums, sending wave after wave of nauseating vibrations to the interior of our prison. The people panic. They moan and cry fresh tears as this new, terrible sound encroaches on our minimal space. I clench my jaw to keep from joining them. I can't let the terror overtake me too. I need to wait for an opening.
Any opening.
I keep my mouth shut and my breathing even when a rattling pain crashes into my head. I can't move, can't react. I can't even free my hands long enough to rip the hair from my head to make the agonizing ruckus in my brain stop.
Through the searing pain, the shifting world of bodies as my vision fizzles in and out of focus, I see the people. They're calm. The humming has lulled them to a stupor.
Are they grinning?
I press my head against the glass of our container and strain to keep my eyes open enough to check in on the others.
They all smile the same.
The hum vibrates through my skin, up my bones, and into my brain.
I shut my eyes tight.
The trembling in my skull intensifies.
The people in my tube slowly settle. They hum against me, lulled into the same vibrations as our prison.
What the hell is this thing?
I crack my eyes open.
Pain. I grind my teeth to stop from screaming.
Two bulls clutching the top of the vertical jars tip them until they're horizontal. The people do not protest. Once on the ground, the bulls roll the tubes away.
But the people don't bramble around as I expected. They remain complacent and still while an outer layer rolls under them. If my brain matter wasn't becoming stew, I'd be fascinated.
Fifteen enormous containers house my people. We pass the chapel where shreds of the painting of the Lady dangle from the bulkhead. We pass by my cabin where my heart breaks for Dean's trunk. Moyra's jacket. I wonder if I'll ever see them again.
I'm sorry, Dean.
I tried.
I told you not to trust me with it. Maybe one day you'll forgive me for being abducted and abandoning your books.
With that last thought, the pain crescendos.
I'm blinded as the ringing ushers in white, hot light.
YOU ARE READING
HMS Valediction
Science Fiction[Book 2 of the ARC10 Trilogy] Rampant addictions, psychotic breakdowns, and threats of mutiny keep Commander Janika Lorn up all night. Transporting two-thousand souls safely from a destroyed Earth to a new habitat aboard the refugee ship ARC10 has b...
