The Dark Path by Walter H Hunt

Author:Walter H Hunt [Hunt, Walter H]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Science Fiction, Fantasy, Action & Adventure, General, Horror, Fiction
ISBN: 9780765345646
Publisher: Tor Books
Published: 2003-02-01T15:00:00+00:00

Chapter 14

He was walking on an elevated platform, a hundred meters above ground level. The noise struck him first: voices, traffic, machinery, the sounds of thousands of people around him.

The last thing he remembered before that was that he was hurtling through space in his fighter, with an impossibly huge alien craft looming in front of him.

Owen Garrett turned aside and grabbed the railing as if he were holding on to the whole world. For the life of him, he couldn't connect the two events: the last place he remembered and the place he was right now. In eight years as an officer and a gentleman he'd misplaced a few hours, but never . . . never—

What am I doing here? he asked himself. How did I get here?

The answer came back in his mind: You are on your way to work.

All right, he thought. Get a grip. He'd been a fighter pilot for four years; he was trained not to panic.

He let go of the railing and began to walk toward work: a power plant here in the biggest city on Center. He looked up at a nearby skyscraper which displayed a chrono; he had thirty minutes before he was due to start his shift. There was time for a cup of coffee.

A few hundred meters farther on, he stepped into a crowded shop. He reached into a pocket of his overalls and drew out a comp, which he waved at a sensor on the counter. "Small coffee," he said.

A panel slid aside and a cup of molded plastic appeared. The familiar smell of badly brewed coffee wafted toward him. He drew out the cup and took a sip; it tasted pretty much like he'd expected.

He drew his comp out again. Maybe there's a clue here, he thought. He checked the time and date; it was twelve days since the battle—

Battle.

Oh God, he thought, a terrible feeling in the pit of his stomach. He remembered now: the other pilots in Green Squadron circling and firing on each other, fire blooming in the darkness and reflecting against the rocky alien angles of the huge ship. They killed each other. Aaron Schoenfeld, Devra Sidra. Steve Leung, Anne Khalid, Gary Cox.

All of them but him. His fighter wasn't pulled into the combat; it was pulled into . . . into—

"Are you okay, pal?"

Into the ship. He was pulled into the ship by—

He felt a hand at his elbow. He jerked it away, but looked up to see another man in similar overalls.

"I'm fine. Just—just a little tired," he answered. "I didn't sleep too well."

"Right." The other man was bigger; he was also familiar somehow, though Owen couldn't place him. "Don't worry, we've all had mornings like these."

"Look," Owen said. "I don't think I belong here—"

"Sure." The man's face betrayed a moment of alarm, then the look vanished. "Sure, pal. What you need is a breath of air." He took Owen by the elbow and steered him quickly out of the tiny coffee shop and onto the elevated walkway.

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