Final Onslaught (Space Colony One, Part Two Book 3) by J.J. Green

Author:J.J. Green [Green, J.J.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: InfiniteBook
Published: 2019-12-22T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter Twenty

“Wilder,” said a voice.

She was in her forest home, trapped against the ceiling by the a-grav machine. How long had she been there? Days. It was early morning, and the new day’s sun was shining through the window and the gaps in the woven, dried leaf fronds of the walls.

It hurt so much. She couldn’t feel her feet or hands, and she couldn’t remember when she’d last been able to move her limbs. But worse than all that was the dreadful thirst. Outside her window, dew sparkled on the vegetation. The glittering drops looked more precious than gemstones. If only she could lick them. To lick just one leaf would be bliss.

“Wilder,” the voice repeated.

She opened her eyes and saw the blank face of a starship’s bulkhead. She was aboard the Opportunity. The ghost of the pain and thirst of her dream remained, however. It had been so vivid. She felt as though all she had to do was close her eyes to return to that time and place.

She realized someone had been calling her name. “Quinn? Did you want me for something?”

“I am sorry to wake you,” said Quinn over the ship’s comm.

“No problem. You did me a favor. I was having a horrible dream.” Wilder unzipped herself from her sleeping bag and pushed off from the wall toward the food and drink station.

“I thought you might be,” Quinn said. “Your facial expression indicated you were distressed and you were making some slight movements.”

“You can read human faces now?” Wilder asked. “I’m impressed.” She removed a water bottle from the store and sucked on the straw. She’d long gotten over the fact that she was drinking her own recycled urine and sweat. If it hadn’t been for the Opportunity’s water conservation system she would be in the same state she’d been in her dream, or dead.

If only the ship recycled food too, she thought, assessing what remained of her rations. Then she grimaced as she realized what recycling her food would entail.

She was already a light eater, yet even so she was down to half of what she’d brought aboard. How long could she make the food last? Would the scientists on Concordia halt the spread of the biocide by then? She might have to choose between starvation and death by poison. At least the latter would be quick.

“I would say I can read some expressions of the humans I am most familiar with,” said Quinn. “I would not describe myself as an expert.”

“Still, that’s quite an achievement in my opinion,” said Wilder. Her stomach growled. Hunger was beginning to bite, but she decided she would try to wait a few hours before eating.

“I imagine you must find us very easy to read,” said Quinn.

“Uh, in what way?” Wilder asked.

“When Fila are in a state of heightened emotion, such as fear or joy, we can’t help but express it in our movements. You must have noticed.”

“Ummm.” Wilder sucked another mouthful of water as she tried to remember seeing anything akin to what Quinn was talking about.

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