Princess

She remembered the old days. Not an accurate recollection but the twisted pantomime of her subconscious. Some parts seemingly pointless remained vivid, the bright flare of a candle's warmth before the burn. The accusing eyes of those blinded by ignorance, gateways into souls filled with violent fear. Fear of something different, fear of her.

Other impressions slipped into focus, the things her waking mind kept locked away. Those unremembered shades taunted her, here in this sluggish whimsy of her own mind. The kiss of knives' wicked edges. An embrace of hatred. A small girl in a dark room. Blood hanging as the world fell, until it didn't. The maddening laughter unseen by human eyes that filled the everything.

The scene shifted, a drunken cameraman chasing his own whims across the canvas of her psyche. A coat and a gun gifted by a filthy smile holding no kindness. The slow burn of a fuze offering vengeance. A place she'd once known reduced to rubble. Long weeks in a ship losing life, light and heat. A home and its people, forgotten.

She fell, thrown by unwanted arms she'd once cherished. She felt sick. She retched and was thrust upwards, her fall reversed with the force of orbital departure. Swirling clouds of acid mist burn away the skin of who she was, leaving behind a likeness carved from ice and bitterness that stood apart. A resemblance with red eyes turned violet in its isolation. For all its platinum majesty, the statue was cast away.

A new room again, familiar but forgotten, similar but different. All the shades between black and grey she knew no one else could see, leading to a single window. Beyond the viewport, the stars awaited with a hundred faces held in the distance between. Some she knew, most she knew didn't belong with them. The living merged with the dead. People she'd lost, people she missed and people she longed to kill again. One face was none of these.

Her own face. Much younger, much warmer. Long dead, long killed. Those youthful starry eyes stare back at her accusingly. A hand upright from the glossy darkness, the silent plea she could never answer. A plain path she would never walk. An old pain she could never revisit.

The weight is gone. She floats. She fights. More hands burst forth around her mirrored self and reach for her, these ones new. Blacker than the starless void around her, they claw and devour faces, ripping at her soul. Every touch saps the heat from her more surely than the void itself could. Every swipe robs the color unseen by unaltered humanity from her space. Every arm is a mockery of the stars she'd traveled.

The faces are consumed until only hers remains. That vibrantly fragile reflection of self. The child reaches for her, slowly being pulled under. Screaming. Never fighting, only screaming. That's why she was weak. Her face is gone, but the scream remains, amplified, roaring until it shatters the world.

* * *

My eyes open to blinding light. I'm being crushed. I burst free, flail and fall. Hands catch and elbows flex to break my landing, then my hips strike the ground uncushioned. The pain keeps me there, gasping with cracked ribs for the wind knocked from me. Rolling onto my back in a half-sitting position, my mind reels and ears drum. I was soaked with cold sweat. A stray hair had set up shop in my mouth. A distant groan reaches my ears. A suit stands over me while I struggle to find a weapon.

"Helllloooo, we don't need two space cadets. Hello there. You just gonna sit there dewy-eyed all day." So it was Tony then. The suits looked too similar right now for me to tell them apart. I wave him off with a heavy hand.

'I'm fine,' was what I attempted, but "Mm fawn" was what reached my ears. That damned ringing, overpressure? Could be. He sounds fine to me; ears are good then. I'd worked with explosives long enough to pick that up without conscious thought. I tried again, focusing more on my mouth as my vertigo fought against being settled.

"I'm fine. What'd I miss? Hanger?" Tony offers a hand. I stood up without it, unsteadily but I managed. Answering my own question with a squinted cursory glance.

"Yes, hanger. And you're welcome for carrying you here." His tone switched from sarcastic to theatric. "For placing my mortal vessel between you and the ravages of war. Truly my lot is that of the silent hero. Rebutted by my ignoble yet frail commander as she endeavors onwards, the bond betwixt us unspoken. Nay even a kind word of praise nor gentle touch of mutual respect, only the outward warrior whom binds the heart of the maiden within."

I'd tuned out, unable to split my focus as I looked around the hanger and gathered my bearings. Why was everything always so damned bright? A black boulder resolved itself into Diaz, squatted low beside something more red than black. Shores!

"Is he…" I started, unable to ask and seal his fate.

"Still with us?" Tony finished. "Yep, just had a little scare when he started doing the tazer's jig. But he calmed down after a minute or so." It took some time for his meaning to breach my foggy mind.

"He had a seizure?" My cold sweat turned to ice on my skin.

"More of a fit, but I'm no expert." I heard him speak, but his words didn't reach me.

Seizures meant brain damage. There was no coming back from that. Not for a pilot. Not for a merc. Brain damage wasn't something that you got over like a broken bone. From where I was standing, I couldn't see anything but reds and blacks when I looked at Shores. I couldn't get my eyes to focus. Walking closer wasn't an option— hell, just standing was kicking my ass right now. How bad was that chemical crap that ate away at him?

Metal fingers snapped inches in front of my eyes.

"Stop spacing out. You're our backup pilot, remember? And quit staring at me all bug-eyed. You're making my skin crawl."

"What about my eyes?" I snapped. "Nevermind, shut up. Just… give the ship a once over then load the core." Why wasn't this vertigo settling down? There had to be more to it than spin gravity playing rough with a concussion.

"The core?" His tone changed sharply.

"Yeah, the core. That big thing near the tail." He looks down at me intently— looking down on me. What was that, judgment? Pity? "Get a move on! We're almost out of here."

"There isn't anything by the Cat's tail. You feeling okay?"

It took some time, but I worked my eyes around the hanger. I saw the Cat, but no core. Right. Jhordan had already loaded it before we left. I gave my head a shake, but that only stirred up the fog that wouldn't settle. My spinning head tried its best to take me back to the floor, but I kept my footing— barely.

"I'm fine. I just forgot it's already on board. Where's Jhordan?"

"I'm right next to you." She said.

I turned and fought more nausea. There she was. How had I missed her? How could someone so big be so sneaky? She wasn't sneaky. My head was too fuzzy. That wasn't good. Something wasn't right with me. I felt more than just foggy. I felt wrong.

"I'm still coming around. Go check the ship. I need a minute." I could have used an hour.

Tony's optics lingered as the suit left. More nausea, it was worse now that I was up and seriously contemplating moving. My guts felt like I'd been worked over with a lead pipe. Was that the blast or Tony squeezing me? Some gentle prodding of my belly was inconclusive to the cause, revealing only the primary symptom, pain. My right leg wasn't much better. I knew that was from my shotgun, which seemed like the I could remember right now.

I shuffled after Tony. His armor wasn't the flat matte black and grey it was supposed to be; in places it almost looked like hammered steel, a pattern eclectic but evident. Mostly it was a punched craters look but he also sported deep gouges. His plate's scratches reminded me of long cuts of silver shining in the too-bright hanger. I upped the tint of my visor, which didn't help much but it was something.

Jhordan followed close behind me. Why is she looking at me like that? She didn't ask or offer anything. She must still be bent out of shape from earlier. Walking in a straight line was more challenging than it should have been. I knew I wasn't drunk but it damned well felt like I was. Jhordan was hovering too close; I needed more space right now.

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What was it Tony said? His body between me and war or something. The memory struck a chord, the feeling of those rounds hitting his armor carried through to me, my ribs recalling it as strongly as my mind. If a single one had got through, he'd have died. Protecting me.

Of course he was mocking me. I deserved it. Without them, the only thing I could do was trip and die, crushed underfoot if I wasn't gunned down before that. I'd almost died. I sent a hand to feel for the deep gouge in my helmet, then it wandered down to my demo bag's shoulder straps. We all did, and it would have been my fault.

The realization hit me like a faulty gas bomb. It triggered my nerves, heat washing over my clammy skin and my heart started pounding like I was sprinting down that hall again. What's wrong with me? I'd come closer to death than this before. I dropped a building on myself at least once a month in training. My pulse raced while my hands trembled with unreleased energy. Something felt like it was going to burst from inside my head. I felt like I needed to puke and ditch my waste and tear off my armor all at once.

Nye looked at me sidelong as I passed, she was stooped collecting the tools and parts Boomer hadn't finished with. She could see it too. I folded my arms over my breastplate. It's better they think I'm annoyed than scared or sick. That lasted for about two steps before I turned my ankle on one of the scraps that were tossed everywhere and I reached out to steady myself on the ship. Jhordan steps closer with a hand slowly rising.

She was too damned close to me!

"Back off!" All eyes turned to me but she didn't make a move, towards or away.

The thought of Boomer inside the dropship did nothing to soothe my fraying nerves. I dropped the Cat's ramp and rushed to the cockpit, eyes locked forward until I sealed the door behind me. The air was clean—at least the Black Cat thought it was—I pried off my helm and mopped my drenched brow with an arm. Stupid move. Those chems were still on my suit. A faint tingle was the only response to my doubts aside from the general feeling of wrongness. Who knew? I might have a seizure while flying, and that'll be it for me. For us all.

What the hell was wrong with me? The air in here was better than in my helmet and I couldn't get enough of it. I was gulping it in like a woman freshly drowned. Did that shit get in my suit? There wasn't any real damage to it, no holes, tears, cuts, nowhere that looked likely.

A few more silver hairs had wandered free from my once tight bun. I freed them all and started to make a new one, trembling hands settling into the familiar routine, keeping occupied. If that crap was on my face, it wouldn't matter if it was in my hair. It took a few attempts before my hands stopped shaking enough to cooperate fully. A bang on the door, then Tony's voice.

"We're all buttoned up and strapped in back here. If the patch is good, you can take us out."

I lifted my helm and a flash of light caught my eye. The scrap where the bullet hit and the ugly tear where it had fetched before tumbling away. That could have been my skull. I rolled it around in my hands, chasing that flash until I saw it again.

A tiny hole where the light from the cockpit came through. My helmet was breeched. I stared at that damning hole and fought back rising dread. The dread won until Tony pounded on the door again.

"Let's get this show in the void! Is the Cat airtight or not?"

"Give me a second!"

I fished out a wad of bonding agent, then a coin-sized patch plate from the cockpit patch kit and plugged my helmet. I couldn't think about that now. My team needed me to fly us home. I shut down my mind, focused on my limited flight training and strapped into the pilot's seat. The seals came back good, same for the external cameras. The internal ones took some educated guessing before the feed finally toggled onto my tertiary screen. Shores and Boomer both could have been sleeping if I hadn't known better. But I did know better, and it ate at me.

I put that thought aside, killing the camera to keep my eyes from wandering and focused on the complex array of controls and readouts in the cockpit. I was far from an ace pilot, more of an aspiring amateur really, but with our actual pilot down and out, the job was thrust upon me like so much else. The more complicated procedures I skipped entirely rather than risk fumbling. I got the Black Cat's maneuvering thrusters burning and set about spinning the ship's nose to the hanger's sealed interior airlock doors.

Sealed doors? When did that happen? I thought they were still open when Jhordan and I had first returned. I jarringly dropped the ship back on the floor.

"What's the issue? Did we lose something?" Tony asked, back at the door again.

"The hanger doors are shut. Get out and see if we can open them from here." I said over the ship's intercom. I was worried that if I left the cockpit, I wouldn't be able to force myself back into it. I couldn't shake the feeling that the longer I spent on this station, the closer something was sneaking up on me.

They did what I'd ordered and couldn't. There were no override panels and no one had anything that could punch a large enough hole through the veritable wall of metal. I could try blasting our way clear, but the Cat would break before the doors did if I blindly tried a backpack bomb. Even if that somehow worked, the outer door shouldn't be open to the void. If the Cat was a gunship, then we might have had a snowball's chance in hell but even then… The only violent option left was to ram our way free, but that idea was a little too desperate. That didn't stop me from considering it thoroughly.

"What do we do now?" Tony whined.

"We ask the client very nicely if he would please let us out and we accept his terms because we have no other choice." Nye offered, which seemed reasonable enough. It wasn't her pride she had to swallow by asking. She'd said it without a drop of sarcasm, which spoke volumes.

"Say goodbye to your paymails then." Diaz said grimly.

I switched off the intercom to make the call, dropping the volume until the ambient white noise and junk transmissions were ignorable. I weighed what to say—what to admit to—before keying the mic.

"This is Princess of the Stalking Shadow, requesting permission to break away."

It was the minimum I could offer without self-incrimination. The junk static picked up drastically in response, I fiddled with the controls to try and block it out, but it kept bleeding through. I was hoping this could be done formally to maintain some of my dignity. If it came down to begging, I'd probably have to take a long walk out an airlock rather than try to live down the embarrassment. Someone would find out. They always did.

"I'm afraid I can't let you leave just yet." The Client said in an impassive tone. The cold menace I heard wasn't entirely imagined. He wasn't angry, it was more than that. He was barely holding himself in check. He must have been furious beyond rage. I played dumb.

"May I ask why that is?" Was it the robots we've scrapped or the chemicals that knocked out two of my team? The ones that might take me too… Or maybe the fact I collapsed one of the nicer hallways on this station of mostly empty hallways? Had Tony actually gone poking around and found something he shouldn't have? The particulars of how I'd screwed up seemed endless.

"There are a number of reasons, the most pressing of which is entirely your fault. Your obvious flight path and subsequent disappearance are being investigated by the local 'peacekeepers.' Should they notice your departure this entire station will be put at risk." Seriously? That was what he went with over everything else. I bit down on my rising temper and pulled out a professional response.

"Do you have an estimate on a window for us?"

"There are too many variables. You and your team will likely be here for some time." I eyed my demolitions kit and reconsidered putting it to use. "I would be a terrible host if I didn't offer to arrange for more comfortable accommodations in the interim."

"We've held you up long enough with this delivery. We couldn't-"

"I insist. As a matter of fact, I must also insist on a detailed explanation of your team's violations of my unambiguous instructions. You can think of this as a re-negotiation of our contract in light of damages suffered." Ah, there it was.

"I don't think that's-"

"Don't play dumb. I've already sent some of my helpers to escort you to your accommodations. I advise you make these unpleasant circumstances as bearable as possible for the both of us."

"Wait a-"

"Of course, I expect you to personally take full responsibility for the actions of your subordinates. I also intend to make my dissatisfaction known to your superior as-"

I keyed my transmitter and held it for a half minute. That damn static was almost as obnoxious as he was. It was getting to the point where it sounded like a weaker transmission failing to get through.

"Now that I'm not being spoken over," I said curtly. "We can't wait that long. Some of my team need medical attention, and the Shadow is the best place we can get it. We can discuss damages once they've been looked after."

"Is it safe to assume these injuries are the result of this station's unique atmosphere? If so, then I am the leading expert on the subject and have a full surgical suite at my disposal."

I chewed it over. He was choosing his words finely, but he seemed like the bookish type, so that didn't necessarily imply deception. If he was being honest, it would be the closest quality medical treatment around by several hours. Assuming he hadn't tampered with the station's climate on purpose, testing it on us like overpaid lab rats. I wanted to believe him—it was a sweet smelling lie after all—but I hadn't survived this long as a mercenary by trusting the innate decency of mankind. The exact opposite, in fact.

"Would you allow me a question first?"

"I'd rather we conduct our negotiations in person, but I'll humor this one request."

More cold sweat was beading my skin. The Black Cat claimed its cabin temperature was fine despite my feverish temperature. His mood swings and change of tone meant he was volatile. I could exploit that if shove came to blast.

"Why is this station so empty?" I asked.

The space around me succumbed to a hush; even the white noise died down, waiting for his response. That silence spoke louder than any I'd heard in my life. It was the only answer I needed to confirm my suspicions.

"If you open the hanger, we'll leave, and that will be the end of this." I said.

"I'm afraid that is not an option-"

"Yes, it is."

"No, it isn't you simpering child! You're trying to jeopardize everything I've created through your impatience and mistrust. I'm doing what's best for everyone! For humanity. Don't you understand?"

"I will not turn over my team to you." I stated, my voice filled with icy intensity.

"That is… unfortunate." Then the line cut, leaving only the white noise to creep back into focus.