The Phoenix Reckoning (The Phoenix Conspiracy Series Book 6) (17 page)

Lt. Ferreiro stared at him with disbelief. Nimoux continued, “The thing about love is that it doesn’t respect regulations or boundaries, no matter how many we try to give it—it is always a futile endeavor. You should be proud of what you and Mr. Rodriguez had and cherish the memory of it, not be ashamed.
Never
ashamed.”

“Thank—thank you, sir,” said Lt. Ferreiro, tripping over his own disbelieving words.

“No thanks are necessary,” said Nimoux. “This is a matter of common human decency.”

“Captain Pellew saw things differently, sir.”

“Well then, Captain Pellew was a fool,” said Nimoux. “And now he’s a dead fool. What he said or thought is no longer relevant. And to be honest, I never particularly liked him anyway. The bastard shot me.”

That got a genuine laugh out of Lt. Ferreiro, breaking through his wall of tears and sorrow. “Permission to speak freely, sir?” he asked.

“Of course,” said Nimoux. “What do you think we’ve been doing the last several minutes?”

“Sir, I, I never liked Captain Pellew either. He gave me this rank, promoted me in front of the others, he seemed to value my skills, but the man was a bully. And Rodriguez and I lived in fear that he would find out about us. Forgive me, but I am shocked to learn that you are so different.”

“Let us hope I am,” said Nimoux. “At the very least, I hope I do not repeat his mistakes and get the entirety of Special Forces killed while fighting a single enemy.”

This elicited another laugh from Lt. Ferreiro, but it was a darker, more somber laugh.

“Anyway, Lieutenant, I didn’t order you in here to censure you. I ordered you in here to ask you a question.”

“Ask away, sir.”

“How long do you need?” asked Nimoux.

“I beg your pardon, sir?” Ferreiro looked confused.

“I said, how long do you need?”

“For what, sir?”

“Until you are ready to return to duty,” said Nimoux.

“I’m ready now, sir.”

“No offense, Lieutenant, but you are not ready. Nobody would be ready after just going through what you have experienced. Soldier, I want you to listen very carefully to what I’m about to say.”

“Yes, sir.”

“It is okay to mourn. In fact, it’s more than okay, it is necessary. To not mourn would be to deny an important aspect of our precious humanity. It would mean bottling our emotions up, one at a time, until one terrible day when they inevitably crack the bottle and all come crashing through. I will not have that among my soldiers. Therefore, I am ordering you to take a few days, mourn, and collect yourself. Then, and only then, will you return to duty—as commander of operational detachment Bravo. But until such time, I am asking you again, how many days do you need?”

“Two, sir. And thank you, sir.”

“Two it is.”

Lt. Ferreiro stood up and saluted.

“And soldier,” said Nimoux. “When you report back to me in two days, you
will
be ready for action. With nothing bottled up. Is that clear?”

“Crystal clear, sir!”

“Very good. You’re dismissed.”

***

“That’s what I’m saying,” said the doctor. “I don’t think it’s anything to overly worry about. Keep an eye on it, report any symptoms, but don’t overly worry. You’re not dying. I promise you that.”

Easy for you to say
, thought Shen.
You’re not the one transforming into a freak. You’re not the one haunted by nightmares of Tristan and at risk of a fate probably worse than death
…

“And none of it concerns you?” asked Shen again. “Did you read the report? I was in a vacuum, exposed to it for minutes, not seconds. Yes, I did eventually get some air and protection from a dead soldier’s climate suit, but I was exposed for a long time. I got hypoxia, I got ebullism, I got…all those medical conditions. And yet, I survived. Not just that, I managed to remain conscious the
whole
time. None of that seems strange to you?”

“All of that seems strange to me,” said Rain. “But none of that is concerning to me, there is a difference.”

“And the difference would be?” asked Shen, partly annoyed and partly afraid.

“Whatever is different about you, this extra resilience you’ve developed, it has only made you tougher and stronger, more capable of surviving. None of these symptoms that you’ve reported are injuring you, or weakening your immune system, or making you sick, or otherwise harming you.”

“But I
am
sick, Doctor,” said Shen desperately. “And I don’t know what’s wrong with me!”

“When you came to the infirmary, the doctors there did extensive tests on you,” said Rain. “And Dr.’s Andrews and Taylor have my utmost confidence. According to their reports, recent anomalies aside, all of your tests come back free and clear of any indications of illness. Even your genetic panel still comes back normal. Shen,” she looked at him with those big blue eyes of hers, “you’re still human, and you’re fine.”

I don’t feel fine
, he thought, annoyed that medical science seemed unable, or unwilling, to discover what was wrong with him, and what that meant for his future prognosis. “I don’t think I’m fine,” he said. “I think that what happened to me—what gave me these abilities—it’s an artifact leftover from my Remorii DNA that I acquired after the Remus Nine mission.”

“That’s an interesting hypothesis, but I can assure you, Mr. Iwate, there is no basis for it.”

“Why not?” asked Shen. “All of my unusual symptoms, every one of them, has occurred after the Remorii attacked me, not before. Is it such a stretch to believe the two are related?”

“Not a stretch
per se
,” said Rain, “tell me, what type of Remorii were you attacked by?”

“Type I,” said Shen, knowing the doctor already had access to this knowledge.
Is she testing my memory?
He wondered.

“And are Type I Remorii renowned for their ability to survive within a vacuum for extended periods of time?”

“I don’t know,” said Shen. “It’s possible. No one has tested it.”

“You also claim that you had a clairvoyant prognostication that told you which of the enemy transports were carrying other Remorii. Do Type I Remorii possess such a talent?”

“Well, I wouldn’t call it clairvoyance or a prognostication,” said Shen, objecting to the terms. “What I said was—I had a strong, almost overwhelming feeling that the Strigoi were on those two transports—strong enough that I convinced Calvin to prioritize targeting those vessels. I wouldn’t say I had anything more than a strong hunch, though.”

“And are Type I Remorii known for their hunches?” asked Rain. “Can they sense where other Remorii are, within a certain proximity?”

“It’s possible,” said Shen, knowing that sounded crazy as soon as he said it. “I’m just not willing to rule anything out yet.”

“I see,” said Rain. She gave him a pleasant smile. “Well, Shen, I believe you may rest easy. I’m quite sure I cleared your system entirely of any remnant of Remorii DNA and all of its artifacts. And, after reviewing your case file,” said Rain, leafing through the paperwork, “I have to say that I completely concur with Dr. Andrews. You are fit for duty. I would be wary of the augmented strength you report, and extra careful of any injuries you sustain—you have minor nerve damage that makes it harder for the experience of pain to manifest itself to your brain, decreasing your likelihood of getting it treated and therefore upping your risk of infection. But, other than that, I would give you a clean bill of health. You’re very lucky, Shen. I hope you can understand that.”

Lucky
…he thought.
What an interesting choice of word
. He didn’t feel lucky. He was supposed to die on Remus Nine and he hadn’t, that had been a form of luck, and while transitioning into a Remorii he should have died—only to be miraculously saved by Rain in the nick of time—that too, he supposed was luck. But where did it leave him? Still not quite human. Still not quite able to be understood, or have any clue as to what terrible thing might be in store for him next.

“Doctor, if you had to speculate,” he asked, deciding another approach might be more successful. “Why wasn’t I killed when I was exposed to the loss of atmosphere on deck four?”

Rain looked curious yet perplexed by the question. “Well, we know a person can survive exposure to a vacuum for several seconds, provided they remember to exhale the air in their lungs so they do not burst,” she bit her lip thoughtfully.

“I did do that,” admitted Shen.

“And you did show signs of hypoxia and ebullism, exactly like we’d expect a person exposed to a vacuum to experience…”

“Yes, but those things should have killed me within seconds or minutes,” said Shen. “You said yourself that a normal human being, even under ideal circumstances, would lose consciousness in ten or fifteen seconds. And then the real damage would begin.”

“Yes, I did say that,” Rain admitted.

“Yet my hypoxia was minor, my ebullism was minor, my hypothermia was little more than walking outside naked on a cold winter’s day, and I remained conscious and aware throughout the entire experience.”

“You did manage to get ahold of some oxygen and minor protection from one of the soldier’s climate suits,” she reminded him.

“Yes, but that was minutes later, not seconds,” said Shen. “And the suit itself was compromised. Not the breathing apparatus or the oxygen tank, but the suit…it had a large, dart-sized tear in it, right through the heart. So I was always exposed to the vacuum, to one degree or another.”

“You said the intruder sealed the breach,” said Rain. “At that point, climate would have been restored.”

“Yes, that’s true,” said Shen, thinking back. “And that would have given me some reprieve. However, the seal did not hold and the breach returned. By the time I had tapped my code and was retrieved from deck four, I estimate that I had been exposed to null atmosphere for several minutes. More than enough time to kill me.”

“Well, maybe and maybe not,” said Rain. “We haven’t done extensive testing on humans exposed to vacuums, for obvious humanitarian reasons. We do know that you can survive for up to two minutes.”

“But I should have lost consciousness at around fifteen seconds,” interjected Shen.

“True,” admitted Rain. “But only from the best knowledge we have. We know your blood wouldn’t boil; your circulatory system would still be able to regulate that. And you could expect to experience some ebullism, which you did, but your skin is strong enough to prevent any explosion from pressure, so no mystery there. Really, the only thing I cannot explain is why you remained conscious for the duration of the experience, especially without more oxygen feeding into your bloodstream.”

Shen shrugged. “And there you have my problem,
Doctor
,” he said. “I’m a freak of nature. No human should have survived what I experienced.”

“Not a freak,” Rain corrected him. “Gifted, perhaps, lucky even, but not a freak.”

“So you think there’s a rational, human reason for what happened to me—or rather, what didn’t happen to me?”

“There’s always a rational reason,” said Rain. “As for the rest, we just have to have faith we can identify what that reason is. But, the way that I see it, we should both be glad you did survive—however miraculously—and consider that a blessing instead of a curse.”

“A
blessing
?” said Shen, not hiding the little bit of scorn that traced his voice. “So you expect me to believe that God intervened on my behalf.”

“Not God necessarily,” said Rain. “But perhaps there are other forces in the universe, some kind of design, and you dying on deck four at that time, as you rightly should have, did not fit that design.”

“Spare me the sermon, Rain,” said Shen. “I’m not religious. I believe in a rational explanation for everything; I don’t accept superstition as any kind of answer.”

“Neither do I,” said Rain. “And I’m not suggesting superstition. I’m suggesting that there might be causes and effects, which resulted in your survival, so minute that we cannot identify them. Not yet. But that doesn’t stop the possibility that some force or purpose, call it
Providence
, say, did not intervene on your behalf.”

Shen had heard enough of this. He’d hoped his doctor, the one who had “cured” him would be able to make sense of what had happened, but if her best guesses were ones he could have gotten from a preacher somewhere—rare as they were among humanity—then it had been a waste of time. He would have to discover what had happened to him on his own, and from there try to guess at what was coming.

“I sense there is something else you wish to ask me about,” said Rain, no doubt observing the fact that Shen hadn’t made any effort to leave the doctor’s apartment.

Shen felt his face go red as he spoke, but he forced the words out anyway. “As a matter of fact, Doctor, there is,” he said.

“I’m all ears,” she said with a broad, pleasant smile.
At least she’s easy to talk to
, he thought, as he struggled to find the right words.