mission.
He had failed to protect his wife, his child, and the rest of the people of Earth.
His spirit, emotions, and mind were crushed by the unbearable weight and pain of his failures.
Not yet ready to open his eyes, he reached out with his other senses to gauge his surroundings. He was lying on a padded surface. It was comfortable, and if not for the pain and memories, he would have been content to keep sleeping—to ignore the reality for a while longer.
But he could not ignore his new reality, despite how much it hurt. He was responsible and he forced himself to face that truth, own up to it. Anything less would be to disrespect those he had let down.
A distant hum of machinery, not unlike the hum of a mothership, reached into his thoughts and brought him back to full consciousness. The hum was interspersed with an occasional, faraway bang or clank. Much closer, he recognized the unmistakable wheeze-and-saw of someone snoring.
The last thing he remembered was being carried like a child as the group wound their way down stairways, ramps, and steps. Their passage from the surface became a dizzying maze of turns, dark passageways, and hidden doors that carried them deeper and deeper beneath the surface of Waa.
The Telgorans had never been to Waa. They could not have known the pathways to take. As such, it was obvious they had been receiving mental directions from the planet's native inhabitants.
Grant finally opened his eyes. He was lying on a padded platform in a dimly lit room. Slumped against a wall to his left, Sergeant Conway slept noisily. It wasn't a sleep of peace and contentment. Her weapon was cradled across her body and Grant knew instinctively that she had fallen asleep while watching over him. He wished he deserved the loyalty and respect that her actions revealed, but knew he did not.
Ignoring the beseeching complaints from his body, the wounded soldier slowly worked himself into a seated position and swung his legs off the platform. The move caused his vision to blur and his head to swim. He clung tightly to the platform and fought against the wooziness that insisted on pulling him from his tentative perch. After several seconds of touch and go, his head finally stopped swimming. For the first time ever, Grant thanked Tane for scientifically increasing his tolerance for pain. Without the enhancement, he knew he would never have raised himself from his back.
Grant took a deep breath and debated his next move. Except for a single doorway, the platform upon which he sat, and Conway's slumped, snoring form, the room was empty.
"Yo. Conway," he whispered. The words felt like sandpaper scraping against his vocal chords. He cleared his throat, tried to swallow, then tried again.
"Becka."
The sergeant stirred, opened her eyes, and glanced nervously around the room. Grant did not know where she had been inside her dreams, but he watched knowingly as she quickly came back to the reality of the here and now. It would be no more pleasant for her than it had been for him.
Failure.
Mostly his, but she had to feel some of it as well. Her squad had not made it out alive. She had. That always leaves a scar—sometimes you can see it, other times you can't.
Their eyes met, but neither spoke of what they felt. There might be time for that later, and maybe not. Right now, Grant just wanted to know what the hell was going on.
"Where are we, Conway?"
"We're with the Waa, General," she replied, confirming his prior assessment. "They patched you up and put you here to recuperate."
"How far down are we?"
"I don't really know… a long way, though. We walked for over an hour through the city's underground. When we left that behind, we continued down for at least another couple of hours."
"Where's Titan? Patahbay?"
"The Telgorans were excited when we finally met up with the Waa. They remind me of a small dog I once had. Every
He had failed to protect his wife, his child, and the rest of the people of Earth.
His spirit, emotions, and mind were crushed by the unbearable weight and pain of his failures.
Not yet ready to open his eyes, he reached out with his other senses to gauge his surroundings. He was lying on a padded surface. It was comfortable, and if not for the pain and memories, he would have been content to keep sleeping—to ignore the reality for a while longer.
But he could not ignore his new reality, despite how much it hurt. He was responsible and he forced himself to face that truth, own up to it. Anything less would be to disrespect those he had let down.
A distant hum of machinery, not unlike the hum of a mothership, reached into his thoughts and brought him back to full consciousness. The hum was interspersed with an occasional, faraway bang or clank. Much closer, he recognized the unmistakable wheeze-and-saw of someone snoring.
The last thing he remembered was being carried like a child as the group wound their way down stairways, ramps, and steps. Their passage from the surface became a dizzying maze of turns, dark passageways, and hidden doors that carried them deeper and deeper beneath the surface of Waa.
The Telgorans had never been to Waa. They could not have known the pathways to take. As such, it was obvious they had been receiving mental directions from the planet's native inhabitants.
Grant finally opened his eyes. He was lying on a padded platform in a dimly lit room. Slumped against a wall to his left, Sergeant Conway slept noisily. It wasn't a sleep of peace and contentment. Her weapon was cradled across her body and Grant knew instinctively that she had fallen asleep while watching over him. He wished he deserved the loyalty and respect that her actions revealed, but knew he did not.
Ignoring the beseeching complaints from his body, the wounded soldier slowly worked himself into a seated position and swung his legs off the platform. The move caused his vision to blur and his head to swim. He clung tightly to the platform and fought against the wooziness that insisted on pulling him from his tentative perch. After several seconds of touch and go, his head finally stopped swimming. For the first time ever, Grant thanked Tane for scientifically increasing his tolerance for pain. Without the enhancement, he knew he would never have raised himself from his back.
Grant took a deep breath and debated his next move. Except for a single doorway, the platform upon which he sat, and Conway's slumped, snoring form, the room was empty.
"Yo. Conway," he whispered. The words felt like sandpaper scraping against his vocal chords. He cleared his throat, tried to swallow, then tried again.
"Becka."
The sergeant stirred, opened her eyes, and glanced nervously around the room. Grant did not know where she had been inside her dreams, but he watched knowingly as she quickly came back to the reality of the here and now. It would be no more pleasant for her than it had been for him.
Failure.
Mostly his, but she had to feel some of it as well. Her squad had not made it out alive. She had. That always leaves a scar—sometimes you can see it, other times you can't.
Their eyes met, but neither spoke of what they felt. There might be time for that later, and maybe not. Right now, Grant just wanted to know what the hell was going on.
"Where are we, Conway?"
"We're with the Waa, General," she replied, confirming his prior assessment. "They patched you up and put you here to recuperate."
"How far down are we?"
"I don't really know… a long way, though. We walked for over an hour through the city's underground. When we left that behind, we continued down for at least another couple of hours."
"Where's Titan? Patahbay?"
"The Telgorans were excited when we finally met up with the Waa. They remind me of a small dog I once had. Every
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