Dyson City: The Aftermath
21 Oct 2021James Teague
The fires were out. Life support was restored. Dyson City was safe. I stood in the hold of my Anaconda, the War Eagle, looking at the economy-class passenger tubes that had been hastily installed just a week before. They were filthy, stained and battered; there had been no time for cleaning or maintenance in the last 6 days - just "get 'em on, get 'em out." The floor was littered with medical supply wrappers, bandages, empty hypos, bits of clothing...the tables used for makeshift stretchers and patient tables were still bloodstained; it even stretched to the walls of the hold. The smell of sweat, blood, ozone, and fear permeated the air.
I looked down; I was wearing the Artemis suit I donned 6 days ago; it was covered with grime, sweat, and Gods knows what else. I caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror; I was haggard, pale, gaunt, and dirty...sleep was a luxury I rarely took during the missions. Walking through the hold, I could still hear the screams and moans of the wounded as they were carried on and off my ship....I lost count of the numbers...too many...way too many. I could still feel the searing heat from the landing bay as I would coast through the mail-slot...hear the pop and hiss of the heatsinks as my limpets gathered escape pods, canisters of clothing, correspondence, the occasional black box...the Imperials paid well for all of it, including ferrying of the survivors, but it came at a high price. I was anxious to get back to the trades...even smuggled goods didn't make a sound...
I closed my eyes, propping my forehead against the cool steel bulkhead...I must have dozed off...I was awakened by cleaning crews showing up along with an Imperial officer of some sort, who walked over to me, saluted, and said, "Good afternoon, Commander. I am Viscount Marcus Stanciu -Duval, assistant to the President of Dyson City." He offered a datapad, which I took. "I wanted to personally thank you on behalf of the station and my family, and present your last mission payment."
"Viscount," I nodded. The datapad contained a number I couldn't even read...I tapped the buttons, sending it to my account. I handed the datapad back to him. "The price is fair...and my condolences to your family." I gestured around the hold, where the crew had already started sweeping away the debris. "This be unnecessary...I was planning to have the cabins decommissioned. Didn't believe they could be used proper again."
The Viscount waved a hand dismissively. "You are more than welcome to this, Commander. And of course, Nova Imperium provides you this with no charge. We will be done in a few hours; please feel free to rest and refresh yourself while we work." The Viscount clicked his heels, saluted, turned, and left.
The crews started pressure-washing the cabins...the sound was too much. I nodded to the crew leader and walked forward to my cabin, peeled off the Artemis suit and looked it over..."Ah, damn it all..." I tossed it down the garbage chute...no way I was getting back into that, much less look at it...
After a quick shower, I donned my usual: loose khakis, boots, a T-shirt, and my old Explorer's jacket. I grabbed a bottle of bourbon from Sol and a rocks glass, and headed to the command deck. The cleaning crew had already been through; the deck was spotless - even my command chair which had been soaked through with sweat and grime was pristine. I collapsed into the chair, pouring myself a hefty neat dose of bourbon and downed it. The fiery concoction danced down my throat, warming my belly and relieving some of the stress; the aroma in my nose mingling with fresh leather smell, almost an ambrosia compared to the days before.
Refilling the glass, I glanced around the deck, remembering the children who begged me to come see it. I chuckled, remembering the 'oohs and aahs' as they troddled around...playing in the back, making whooshing and pew-pew noises as they played co-pilot in the other seats...no longer frightened, just being kids, oblivious to the horrors around them.
My eyes stopped on a stuffed rabbit in one of the seats. Damn, I whispered to myself. It had belonged to a little blond girl...her father had pleaded with me to take her up to the command deck as her mother was being frantically worked on by one of the medics. She made it, thank the Gods, but it was touch and go. The girl couldn't have been more than five, and was oblivious to it all - she just knew everyone was scared, and she was as well until she was on the ship. I remembered her perched on the front panel of the co-pilot's chair, head in her hands, elbows propping her up as she gazed out the glass...squealing with delight when I punched the throttle, the stuffed rabbit a cushion for her chin. I think I remember her giving it to me...telling me something as she did...waving to me as her father carried her off the War Eagle onto the rescue ship. It was all fast becoming a blur, and I hoped it was the last time my mind's eye would see it.
I picked up the rabbit and sat back down in my command chair with it in my lap. It looked up at me with black button eyes over a small sparkly pink nose and short grey fur. I stretched my chair back, making a recliner. "Kate," I said into thin air.
"Yes, Commander?" The onboard computer responded.
"Inform the cleaning crew leader I be gettin' some kip. They can show themselves out." A soft bing indicated the message was sent. I looked back down at the rabbit, taking another slow pull on my glass. It was the last thing I saw before sleep snuck up on me and I drifted off into oblivion...