Wild Space Pt. 02

"I don't want to be a commander!"

"And you won't be. You have no recourse except for one. It will make it go easier on you. You want things to go easy, don't you, Jules?"

He didn't answer, only shifted from one boot to the other, metal dust crunching beneath his boots.

"You're going to suffer an injury, Jules, or so the report will go. It'll have prevented you from returning to the Saber. Your leg will be shattered and I can't carry you, none of us would have been able to. We won't all have time to haul you back to the ship before the explosion."

"I can call for help," Jules covered her with the X1 Survival Carbine, automatically snapping it to cover her, aiming for center mass, "I'll shoot you."

"I'm sorry, Jules," Magdalena said quietly in her posh accent, actually managing to sound it. "I altered your suit communications last night. Your rifle is dead, too, as of this morning, before you could inspect it or clean it. They're both modified to look charged up and operating but you can't talk to anyone but me or fire a bolt. You don't have a choice. Maybe you should have fucked me when you had a chance.

"You're mad," He told her. Jules felt his anger flame, raw and deep in his heart, much worse than when he only saw her as a spoiled rich girl. "If you don't do this...I love you too, Mags."

"Liar," She told him quietly, and Jules could tell she was crying. "You don't. And don't say you do. Not now. I have to do this."

"You don't. Please, I promise..."

"Save it, sailor. I'm not interested." Just like that, she was all business again. "I'm going to have to drop a rock on your leg to make sure you don't follow."

She slung her weapon around her back, and squatted down near the air filled bag holding Jessa. The big ensign scooped up a large chunk of metal rock.

"I'm sorry I have to break your leg, but in a few minutes, you'll be passed caring." Magdalena hefted the rock high. The jagged and wickedly sharp, metallic rock.

Jules shot her. He hadn't ever fired the X1 Survival Carbine in this manner before, but his training held true. Hundreds of hours practicing, cleaning, maintaining, firing. A double tap to center mass. The smoke swirled from the barrel in a strange orb pattern, and Jules felt a considerable kick, far more than firing an energy bolt.

The slugs caused an instant decompression in Magdalena's suit, and her mass was not enough to stop a pair of exit wounds from erupting in her back. Her blood formed a strange pattern in the weak gravity. She fell to her knees, then tumbled backwards, eyes looking towards the stars.

"It shoots bullets too, remember?" Jules whispered, but Magdalena was already gone.

He mentally calculated the time he had left, and wasn't comfortable with the equation. He glanced down at Jessa's bag, and felt nothing. Jules couldn't help her. She was past saving anyway.

He took off running in the low atmosphere, kicking up great clouds of swirling metal dust in his wake.

***************

"By Ana, sailor," Kara said as she and Moyuno hauled him into the Saber's docking port. "You cut it close. Barely a minute left. Where's Ensign Magdalena?"

"She tripped, broke her leg. My suit comm's out. I had to leave her, I couldn't carry her."

"What?!" Kara yelled. "We have to get her!"

"We've got to leave," Moyuno said, stress thickening up his already considerable accent. He changed channels in his helmet. "This is away team to bridge. We're clear. Take us up."

The asteroid crumpled and fell away beneath them, exploded precisely in a pattern designed to minimize danger to any nearby ship. Jules watched as the great mass of shiny metal expanded in stages, each charge kicking up a great gust into space as the Saber sped away.

Like it never existed, Jules thought, sinking into Kara's arms. The deed is done.

*****

"I have to say, I am surprised that you put your name forth for this, son," Commander Leon said. He sat at the small table in his quarters, and managed a weak smile that threatened to break apart at Jules. "But not surprised you made it. You've always showed aptitude. And a battlefield promotion is rare, but it happens. I understand you knew Ensign Magdalena from boot camp?"

"I did, sir." Jules told him, standing rigidly at the position of attention. "Her loss is a blow to us all."

"It is. Well, on to happier news. Relax, son. Make yourself a drink."

"You don't want one, sir?" He asked as he drifted over the sideboard, towards the delicately shaped, real glass liquor decanter.

"No, no. I don't touch the stuff." Leon said, squinting. "I'll stick with water. But you feel free, Ensign Jules."

Leon didn't touch the stuff because sun syrup and alcohol didn't mix well, Jules thought. He poured and turned, caught the vacant look in the other officer's eyes. Needy eyes, shifty, hungry looking and flighty in movement. The eyes of a fiend and the weak heart of an addict. Jules's fingers brushed the new scourge at his side.

"To your appointment as third officer," Commander Leon said, standing and toasting with his water.

"To your command, its long road ahead, and to your long life." Jules raised his glass and smiled.