A baby. Tessa slumped sideways, came up hard against the wall outside of medical. Jesus.
One hand brushed across her cheek, dropped to follow her shaky eyes to her abdomen, palm spreading out across the skin there, almost cradling the shape of a form that had yet to make itself seen. She closed her eyes, and the sound that welled up from somewhere deep within her came broken, injured, afraid.
Ten minutes later, she was in the gym.
Gloves hadn’t mattered; like an animal, she attacked the punching bag at the far end of the bay, stalked it, snarled, fell into the movements as she drove each sweaty jab into coarse fabric. Each hit came in a sharp staccato that left her knuckles raw and red– and still she fought it, squeezing eyes against tears, punching harder. Even when the throbbing and the burn had left her thoughts scattered, drowned, the pain lingered, still hung on in memory, tingled through skin, through her chest, her womb. In the end, it didn’t matter– the pain that came with the knowledge of the way things were, the way they were going to turn out, the way they had to turn out, was growing, worsening, a blade that twisted and twisted with everything she saw, every move she made. There was no relief, no way to let go of it, to drop the tightness from her shoulders.
Because now she was fully in the moment. Now, she had to face it, and there was no grand future to hide in, no reset button to reach for.
Alone in the washroom, the thoughts she had been trying to keep at bay came rolling back like a tide, inescapable. She made it as far as the shower before the tears came, and as the walls of her resolve buckled, she collapsed in on herself, palms coming up flat against the cold tile wall, lips peeling back over bared teeth, opening for a silent shriek, a gasp of soul-deep pain that refused to come. Water burned across raw knuckles, knees weakened, and then she was on the floor, crouching, pressed in against the wall, struggling for support on cold, unyielding tile. Memories of Izzy came back, memories of the wake, of the pain that had lain in her heart for so long, growing and festering, never fully dormant, never really gone. Steam rose around her like a blanket, enfolded her in its hazy wings, and as she hunched into herself, she let it take her, let the heat and the water drain away her pain. An eternity later, as the door to the washroom whispered open, she forced herself to stand, to rein in what was left of the pain, the emotion, and snapped off the water.
Panem. Came the thought as she dried herself, changed back into her uniform. I’ve got to see Panem. Fifteen minutes later, she found him on the flight deck, picking through a series of firmware updates and upgrades with another pair of technicians who looked up unsteadily as she approached.
“Panem.” She managed, words coming weak, eyes as nervous about meeting those of the unfamiliar technicians as they were about meeting the eyes of an unfamiliar major. “Hey.”
“Major.” He turned, hesitated. “Everything okay? You look like hell.”
“Thanks.” She met his gaze, gave him the edge of a wry grin. “I’ll remember that when your next evaluation comes up.” Eyes rose, glanced past him. “What have you got for me? Any progress with the upgrades on my rig?”
“Yeah.” He said, and the word came casual, nonchalant. Turning back to the other two technicians, he gestured, glanced at his note ‘puter. “You two, uh, go ahead with the AI wipe on Morgan’s rig, clean up the buggy mods he’s tacked in, and double check the consistency of the logics on Odom’s bird. I’ll handle the firmware installs for Freyja.” He tabbed through a manifest. “And, uh, take a look at Chartrand’s rig while you’re at it. I’ve got a report here of a strange noise in the hardware.” Both technicians glanced at each other, nodded back. He watched them as they turned away, then slowly, almost casually, glanced back at Tessa.
“I’m close.” He almost whispered. “I almost trust the AI bridge at this point.”
Tessa swallowed. “How soon before its stable?”
“Soon.” Came the firm response. The hand with the note ‘puter dropped to his side as he turned back to face her. “I want to give it another quick go-over, run a couple of simulations and sweep the calculations through an integrity algorithm, but I can pretty much guarantee it will work the way it’s rigged up now.” He hesitated. Her eyes were somewhere else entirely, lost on the curves of her rig as her hands went unconsciously to her womb, cradled the phantom shape again.
“You sure you’re okay, Major?” Panem swallowed, gestured. “You uh, you seem distracted.”
“Distracted?” Slowly, like skin across flypaper, her eyes drifted back to his, touched on his concerned stare. “No, I. . .” She hesitated. “I’ve just got a lot on my mind right now.”
“I know the hangar deck is a far cry from a counselor’s office, but if you want to talk about it–”
“No.” She shook her head quickly. “Let’s just” She pulled in a deep breath, folded her arms. “Let’s just focus on this right now.”
Panem shrugged. “You’re the boss.”
Pulling her arms in tighter, almost hugging herself, she pushed the remark aside. “Give me the run down on how it works.”
“It’s mostly automatic.” He turned, and as he started toward the rig, she walked with him, eyes never leaving the Seindrive. “The inverter is designed to kick off at what we’re calling L+2. Hold that speed,” he gestured, “and the throttle will cut automatically at two hours and twenty seven minutes relative and dump you out in Earth orbit the week before the first Coralate attack on record, nine years ago.” He called up a spacial reference on the note ‘puter, handed it to her, tabbed it closed as she handed it back. “There’s a manual override in case the flight gets too bumpy or the stress on the hull gets too high.” He pulled in a deep breath as they stopped beside the rig, stared up at the chrome hull of the Stormfury. “Just remember– if you kill the engine early, it’ll dump you at some random point in time and space between here and where you want to go. Best to avoid that option if you don’t want to risk punching back into the middle of a planet, a star or even deep space.”
Tessa nodded. “Okay.”
“One other thing.” He turned back to her, eyes searching, seeking hers but never catching them. “This is a one way trip, Major. You know that, right? Once you’ve changed the past, you’ll be attached to a completely different timeline. Even if you disable your rig’s tachyon field and jump forward by pushing the throttle right up to the barrier, the future you’ll reach won’t be the future you left behind.” He swallowed. “We’ll still be here, but we’ll never see you again. To Ben, to everyone on this ship, you’ll be gone, forever.”
Tessa swallowed, looked up at him, iron in her moist eyes, a struggle of emotions tossing, fighting beneath the surface of her features. She couldn’t tell him about the vision, couldn’t tell him about the remains of the fleet that she’d seen spread across space like a blanket over a burning Earth. The admiral’s words echoed in her mind, wry smile strong, knowing, taunting. If I told you either way, you wouldn’t fight as hard.
Just know that the cost of defeat is steep. No less than the complete annihilation of the human race. Let that be the thought that guides you every time you pull the trigger to silence another Coralate soul.
She blinked, set her jaw, nodded. “I know, Lieutenant.”
“It’s not too late to back out.”
“Yeah,” She said solidly. “It is.”
