Holding on for Life by Scott Azmus

Author:Scott Azmus [Azmus, Scott]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Hawk’s Grove Press
Published: 2021-03-14T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 15

They grab him in unison. A swirling patch of sandy fog tracks the arc of his rotation. It rasps under his jaw and cloaks his throat like a chunky thermal turtleneck. Glassy strands of spun carbon fiber whip under an armpit. Prongs grapple. His spine pops as reverse-thrust pressure crushes his jugular. Elsewhere, inquisitive needles of projected force probe the suture lines of his skull.

Geometric patterns strobe against the backdrop of Daryle’s clenched eyelids. Scarlet. Golden citrine. Vivid violet. A surge of exterior awareness glides through his thoughts.

“Maluše?” he asks. “What the hell? After all this time, is that you?”

Daryle flares wet eyelashes to reveal a hovering platform. Gravimetric pads shimmer. Paired lenses glitter. Mechanical limbs tend multiple bridle lines.

At the bottom of their swing, Daryle’s ankles slap into someone’s open grasp. Slender fingers close and brace.

“Hold on,” says a willowy brunette in a translucent but baggy rugby jersey. “I will have you stabilized in a sec.”

The woman would be gorgeous if not for ratty hair, cuts and bruises, and body odor that could stagger a musk ox.

She presses the soles of his feet to the deck. “I went through the same thing when we arrived. Once the floor evaluates you, the system will allow traction and posture support. There you go. Let it adjust for a minute. I have to reach the others, though it is anyone’s guess what the three of you think you have to gain here.”

He wants to say something witty, as in, “Doctor Luchevko, I presume?” but gasps as a large Iithek looms close. White-hot agony lances. Disorientation swirls. Lacerating currents of focused resentment leave him squirming, cramping, and panting in distress.

Voice rough, Daryle forces an angry shake of his head. “Already, *Ehii*?”

Scarlet haze paints his view. The Iithek’s pouncing vigor probes the folds and liquid cavities of his brain.

“Betrayal? Broken promises? Not that I didn’t see it coming.”

“Damn you, Chantree!” Arms out as if seeking balance, Lieutenant Prescott shoots him a glance. “How the effing hell did we get here? Did you expect these assholes to play us false? And so rapidly? Dammit! They’ve ransacked my pockets. My fast-track inventory shows they’ve stripped my gear of every weapon.”

Daryle rocks his feet in place. The grippy “smart floor,” or whatever, really does seem to anticipate his needs.

“I’m sorry, Lieutenant. Sorry to drag you into this. It’s as if I can sense their intentions at a distance. What else should we expect, other than double-dealing? Naturally, similar attitudes go both ways. As I massively screwed them over the last time we met, the Iithek more or less see me as a thief. That’s why I didn’t think they’d spirit away anyone else but me. The funny thing is, I can tell *Ehii* here is feeling … unsure of itself. As it probes my thoughts, I sense uncertainty and reluctance. At least at the moment, it doesn’t want to press too aggressively. Ten to one, for fear of causing brain damage. I hope that spells good news for us.

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