Rio and the other Strikers gained altitude leaving Sulia behind.

Battalion 1 had to wait there with the rest of the Legion fleet while five Ravagers touched down on the planes west of Thaklia, took the stranded platoons on board, and then launched.

The Emal surged westward trying to catch up with the fleeing platoons, but Battalion 1 bought the platoons enough time to load up first.

The Emal bombarded the Ravagers with lasers, but all five zoomed away out of sight before the Emal could do any more damage.

“That looks like the end of that city,” Dietz muttered. “What a colossal waste.”

“Captain Ackerman is sending us clearance to rendezvous and land on board the Ero,” Rio reported.

“How generous of him,” Wild growled.

Rhodes tried to answer, but his voice and his brain wouldn’t connect with each other. Now he felt really sick.

He must have passed out for a few seconds—or longer. He came to his senses sitting in the cockpit while Rio and the other Strikers sat parked in the Ero’s landing bay.

They were alone. None of the platoon soldiers were here anymore.

Rhodes couldn’t get himself to sit up, stand up, or even disconnect himself from his Striker to disembark. He didn’t dare to use The Grid to check how bad his injuries were.

He must have faded out again, because when he opened his eyes, he discovered Rhinehart bending over the cockpit. The cover was open.

“We’re taking you to your capsule, Captain,” Fisher told Rhodes. “Then you can sleep.”

Rhodes tried to say something, but a wave of brutal pain gripped him all over when Rhinehart lifted Rhodes’s shredded body out of the Striker.

Rhodes heard himself screaming. He really wished he could pass out again, but this time, he stayed conscious for the whole horrible ordeal.

Rhinehart lifted him down to the floor, tried once to set Rhodes on his feet, and Rhodes’s knees buckled.

He had trouble dragging his vision into focus. For the few seconds when he could actually make out the rest of the bay, he spotted some members of the Ero medical staff standing off to one side.

Their expressions told him all he needed to know.

Rhinehart changed his grid lines into another jointed arthropod-type creature. The medical staff drew back grimacing in terror, but the battalion ignored them.

Rhinehart picked up Rhodes and carried him through the ship to the hold the battalion used as their barracks.

Rhinehart lowered Rhodes into his capsule. “Rest easy, Captain,” Rhinehart told him. “We’ll see you on the other side.”

Rhodes didn’t ask what that meant. He didn’t expect to survive this.

At least he wouldn’t have to wake up from this nightmare. He would go to sleep and stay that way—forever. What a blessed relief that would be.

Rhinehart straightened up and the capsule cover started to close. Rhodes didn’t see any of the rest of his people. They must have all gotten into their capsules, too. They needed it. They were all as injured as he was if not worse.

Rhodes stared up through the transparent cover at Rhinehart standing by his bed. Bruises, torn flesh, dried blood, and exposed bone showed around Rhinehart’s facial implants. How bad were his injuries?

Right then, the prongs locked into Rhodes’s head and body. He jolted from the intense charge taking hold of him.

He closed his eyes and lost sight of Rhinehart. Rhodes couldn’t lose sight of Fisher, though.

The SAM hovered in front of Rhodes’s vision—where Rhodes couldn’t ignore him even when Rhodes closed his eyes.

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Rhodes didn’t want to ignore Fisher—not anymore.

Rhodes took a deep, shuddering breath. Even breathing hurt.

“Just in case I don’t see you again…..” Rhodes husked. “I want to tell you…..thank you for your help down there, pal—and for all your help—with everything. I would appreciate it if you could interface with Rio and thank him for me, too.”

“You’re welcome, Captain.” Fisher cocked his head to one side. His bright eyes drilled Rhodes with unusual intensity. “You will survive this, Captain. We will see each other again.”

“Well…..thank you anyway. I don’t know what I would have done down there without you. I really thought I was going to lose it when I couldn’t hear you.”

Fisher smiled. He had a calm, steadfast, reassuring smile. He didn’t blush or squirm or smirk like a person would when someone complimented them.

“It is very nice to hear you say so, Captain,” Fisher murmured.

Rhodes sank deeper into the bed. Relief flooded him—but he also felt the pain more acutely now than he did in the heat of battle.

Pounding, bone-crushing agony washed through his chest and midsection. That pain escalated with every passing minute.

He tried to tell Fisher that he really needed to pass out now, but just then, the conversion cycle started and Rhodes lost consciousness for real.

He woke up in the hospital. He was lying in a different capsule, so he must have been back at Coleridge Station.

He felt much worse than he had when he woke up from every other conversion cycle. He felt much worse than he did when he first woke up from stasis.

The pain in his body had only faded slightly. It didn’t drive him insane. It just gnawed at him with a constant, maddening ache—as if it would never go away.

Maybe it wouldn’t. Maybe he would stay like this forever, too. That would be the cherry on top of the cake—if this mind-numbing pain nagged him every waking minute for the rest of his life on top of the rage and frustration caused by his implants.

He didn’t try to sit up. He just lay on his back hating his life. Not even the curiosity of wondering how his subordinates were doing could make him get up.

He was still lying there when Fisher expanded from his usual place at the corner of Rhodes’s vision.

“Welcome back, Captain,” Fisher murmured. “Your systems are registering a physical pain response.”

“No shit, pal,” Rhodes snarled.

Fisher cocked his head the other way. “You are in emotional distress due to your physical pain response. I’ll alert the medical team.”

Rhodes looked away, but of course Fisher never went away. “How are the others? Are they okay?”

“They are all in recovery the same way you are. Dietz, Oakes, and Rhinehart are all out of their conversion cycles. Rhinehart is still in bed, though. The others are all still in their conversion cycles. Their records indicate the medical staff is still working to repair the damage to their implants and organic tissues before waking them up.”

Rhodes snorted. “Did Dietz suffer any damage at all? Did the Emal damage him when they tried to remove his implants?”

Fisher angled his head to the other side. He examined Rhodes extra closely. “Why do you ask that? Of course Dietz suffered damage. Everyone did.”

“What damage did he suffer?”

“The Emal removed one of his legs and also tore the implants out of one of his arms. His records indicate he suffered a severe pain response both under the Emal’s treatment and when the doctors reattached the implants.”

Rhodes looked away again and compressed his lips to stop himself from saying anything. He didn’t want to talk about Dietz—probably because Rhodes didn’t know what to think about Dietz.

Dietz was the one who got Rhodes on board Rio after the base ships took out the whole battalion. Everyone in the battalion was alive right now because of Dietz.

Why did Rhodes think the Emal would spare Dietz? Why did Rhodes delude himself into thinking Dietz suffered any less than the rest of his comrades?

No one deserved to suffer the way they did at the Emal’s hands. Nothing Dietz had ever done earned him that kind of torture.

Fisher didn’t pry any further into Rhodes’s thoughts on the subject of Dietz. Fisher had been privy to all Rhodes’s conversations with his subordinates about Dietz. Fisher already knew what Rhodes thought about Dietz—the good and the bad.

“The question is what we can do about your physical pain response,” Fisher went on.

“Is there anything we can do about it?” Rhodes groaned. “I should know better even than to ask that.”

“The swelling around your implants may subside in time….”

“Which is another way of saying it may not subside in time,” Rhodes interrupted.

Fisher adjusted his position and pulled up a Grid outline of Rhodes’s body. Fisher rotated it and pivoted it in front of Rhodes’s eyes.

“Your implants all appear to be functioning within normal parameters….”

“I’ve heard that before.”

“Therefore, we should conclude that the problem lies in your organic tissue.”

“Can you detect anything about that that isn’t functioning within normal parameters?” Rhodes asked.

“Only the swelling I mentioned.”

“Can’t you give me something to take the edge off the pain? Can’t you just dial down my pain response—or give me an analgesic or something?”

“I can’t, but the doctors may be able to. You can ask them yourself. They’re on their way here now.”

Rhodes shut his eyes and turned his head away. “I can’t wait.”

“You don’t have to wait. I just told you they’re on their way here. They’ll be here in less than two minutes.”

“It’s an expression, pal. It means I’m really starting to dread ever seeing any doctor ever again. It seems like, no matter what they do, they only wind up making the problem worse.”

“I don’t see how they can make the problem worse by lessening your pain,” Fisher remarked. “Anything is better than this.”

Rhodes gulped down the urge to lose his shit again. This pain wasn’t as bad as it had been during the battle on Sulia.

The constant, unrelenting ache somehow made it so much worse. He would almost rather have his implants torn out for real than live with this.

End of Chapter 4.