Lockspur lay in total darkness, dreaming of his family home in the woodland foothills outside Century City. Pegrino 3 seemed so far away and so long ago. 40-years had passed by in the blink of an eye.
The sound of shallow breathing came from the back corner. Whatever Lady Hemmingford's doppelgänger had done to speed up the healing process had also rendered Lockspur immobilized and vulnerable. But he wouldn't have minded. Had he known? After a week of stasis-induced hallucinations chasing him through the ship, Lockspur had finally found peace in the darkness. He didn't care if he was still alive or if had died in his sleep. And at that moment, it didn't matter either way. The soothing emptiness felt good. And as a tremendous bonus, he was no longer in agonizing pain.
As the searing pain in his body subsided, Lockspur found himself transported home. He reasoned the others had found him unconscious in the wreckage, placed him in stasis and brought him home without him even realizing they had left M6-117. But how he got there was of little concern. He was off that godforsaken rock. Away from the monsters, the glaring suns and the mission that had almost killed them all.
Looking around his house, he realized this was not the empty, lonely home on Sol Lucia. That sparsely decorated shoebox had never been a proper home. It was a place to sleep and eat and sleep. Sol Lucia was the refuge he landed in after the accident stole his family.
In a single moment, his life had changed forever, and he wasn't even there to grieve. He was away crewing a long-range freighter and didn't find out what had happened until 7-months later. Ironically, while he had slept in stasis, so too had they. With one exception, he woke up. They would sleep forever.
But now, here he was back on his homeworld, but they were there, too. Talking and laughing and very much alive. Lilith had done it. She brought them back. He didn't know how; he didn't care. What was it she had said before he came? I can give them back. He knew that was impossible. You can't bring back the dead. But he took it on the chance she wasn't a lying, lunatic bitch, or just shining him on.
But now, his gamble seems to have paid off. For the first time in 4-decades, he didn't have to live under a suffocating cloak of guilt. He felt good. Too good, he thought. But none of that mattered; either by miracle or magic, they were all together again. He wasn't alone anymore, and that was worth more than all the credits in the galaxy combined. But no. That is right now. They're here. With him.
His beautiful wife Maria, two sons and baby girl were all with him. Just as he remembered. Like he fought so hard to forget.
He and Maria had planned the boys' births, but then little Zia's birth had taken them both by surprise. His beautiful, angelic little girl, a result of an impromptu weekend away with Maria. A trip that had saved his marriage. Their marriage had suffered because of the long haulers he crewed. So, they had gone away to reconnect. And wow, how that reconnection had worked. Neither of them could have predicted the outcome. It was on that trip that he had promised to come home for good; to give up long haulers. It was on that trip that he had lied to Maria and himself. And because of that lie, they had died while he was off-world.
He blamed himself for their deaths. Telling himself if he'd been there, they would still be alive. But would they? Perhaps he would be dead, too. He didn't know. It didn't matter. Dead or alive, they would have all been together.
Lockspur remembered the trip to Fhloston Paradise. It was years ago when the kids were young. Although it seemed like yesterday. Terrible waves crashed on him. They would always be young, never grow up, and always be dead.
His oldest son Javier sat beside him on the old family couch, smiling and talking about his day at work. About his wife, his kids and the future he would never live to see. Lockspur loved his children with all his heart. And knew they loved him, too. And there it was. Those two terrible words. Had been. So cruel; so final. Javier had been his firstborn, had been a real sports nut, had been on the track team, and had been on the football team. A d worst of all, he had been there for none of it. And nothing could change that. Even here, wherever here was, even this fever dream could not erase the guilt he felt. A salty tear trickled down his sleeping cheek. God, why won't you let me die?
For an unknown reason Lockspur couldn't quite understand, the old couch had stretched to 20-feet and turned to a slick shade of scarlet. He disliked it in brown; but he hated red.
God, I miss them, he thought, wanting them back. He wanted his old life back. But neither God nor the devil makes those kinds of deals. No matter what the storybooks say. But Lilith said she could bring them back. So, Lockspur had done everything she asked. And he would have done worse had she asked for more. But mercifully, she hadn't.
He knew what he was seeing was not quite right. It was a hellscape fever dream. But he didn't care. Even an ugly red couch would be an improvement over the bleached-out shithole wasteland known as M6-117. I wish I were home. I wish I were home. But wait, he thought, looking around at the now stretched out and distorted room. I am home. Aren't I?
The room collapsed into a jumbled-up kaleidoscope of jagged, long-repressed memories that blew away on a blast of hot, moist air. The sudden gust of air stank of rancid guts mixed with the acrid stench of bad breath. Even in his sleep, he grabbed his stomach and gagged.
His absent family was back, fighting to stay in his weary mind. His oldest son laughed and said, "Sorry, poppy." He gestured at the little girl in Lockspur's lap. "Smells like she needs a diaper change." Maria and Roberto sat at the opposite end of the couch. Miles away now. The couch had grown again. At least they're still here with me. I haven't lost them. Not yet.
The little girl on his lap jumped up and licked his face like an affectionate dog. He grimaced, pulling his slippery, smelly cheek away, thinking her tongue felt like a soggy piece of coarse sandpaper. Gross, he thought, as his efforts to avoid her darting, playful tongue went to no avail. She was relentless.
The weight of the little girl became oppressive. She couldn't have weighed over 20-pounds, but she felt as heavy as a medium-sized bear. And come to think of it, she smelled like one too. He tried to push her off, but his efforts were fruitless. The little girl would not budge. She just sat there looking at him with a playful grin and making odd barking sounds like an excited dog wanting to play a game of fetch. He stared quizzically. Then two words drifted into his minds-eye. Oh, fuck.
His eyes popped open. Wide and bloodshot. He awoke nose to snout with a drooling, slobbering raptor that stood over him, licking his face. Lockspur's hands and feet went into a sudden feverish backpedaling fury that propelled him out from under the creature and across the empty black room. He could see nothing. But he could hear the creature hopping up and down, leapfrogging after him, making sounds like an excited barking puppy. The damn thing wanted to play. Lockspur just wanted to get away.
The scene was almost comical. Lockspur evaded, and the giant doggy followed. How cute. Lockspur didn't notice his strength had returned and the pain in his body had faded.
The back of his skull slammed into a steel wall, and the raptor slid to a stop 3-feet in front of him. Somehow, during both the dream state and subsequent game of tag, Lockspur's glasses had stayed on top of his head. They slid onto his face, and he saw the creature's chin hit the ground. Its wagging tail rose in the air and flitted around. He scanned the space⁴ for something to throw. A stick. A rock. Hell, a fucking grenade. He came up empty. No fetch for you, doggy.
A woman's voice came from the creature's mouth, and he blinked, thinking he had lost his mind. Raptors don't talk. A split second later, a young, short-haired blonde peeked over the creature's head. She straddled the creature's back, like a Native American riding a wild paint. He shook his head and thought, why the fuck not? The damn thing is as big as a horse.
"It's OK," she said, throwing a leg over its back and sliding off, landing on her feet as if she'd ridden wild raptors her whole life. "She's harmless now." She patted it on the back and its tongue lolled out. If it had had eyes, he imagined they would have rolled.
Lockspur fixated on her, marveling at her girlish mannerisms. Maybe she's a dream, he thought and laughed. Maybe this is Hell's way of messing with me. This is just a nightmare. I'm sleeping, and this is all happening in my head.
"This isn't happening in your head," she said.
The thing sneezed, covering Lockspur with a speckled shower of raptor snot. Nope, he thought, wiping his face with the back of his hand. Not a dream. The woman standing over him was in her late teens or early-20s. "It could have killed me."
"Definitely," she replied in an innocent tone. "If I hadn't reached you when I did, you'd be floating through this creature's digestive juices right now." She held out a hand. "Carolyn."
"Ah… Thanks." Lockspur said, still pressed against the wall as the beast skittered side to side like a football player doing drills. The creature wouldn't take no for an answer. It wanted to play. He thought about what being turned into raptor excrement might feel like. "Do you think you could call your dog off?" Lockspur asked, shooing the creature away.
"I was told you were old. But you are really-"
"Are you trying to be funny?" Lockspur asked, cutting her off. "I'm 72."
"Now, who is trying to be funny? You're not much older than I am."
Lockspur held up his hands, studying the grainy green screens. It was obvious he hadn't just healed. He was young again. What was not so obvious was that all the memories of Lilith's promises and his secret mission were gone. Lilith's impromptu blood infusion had seen to that. Oh, the memories were still there, just buried deep. And as long as he did not know they were there, he wouldn't go looking for them. At least, not until Lilith wanted him to find them.
Carolyn patted the raptor on the side, rubbed behind its ear hole and its hind foot pounded the ground fiercely. She whispered in the raptor's ear, "Fetch." It gave off an excited half-bark/ half-growl and bounded away into the darkness, running off to find something less timid.
"Neat trick," Lockspur said, feeling better than when he had arrived. Better than he had in months, maybe years. He lifted his shirt. The hole where the pipe skewered his abdomen had knitted itself together; it had vanished. But that's not what caught his attention. The 12-inch scar where OCP surgeons had implanted a mechanical liver was gone, too. He placed his hand on the scar and pressed his fingers deep. That wasn't the only thing missing. The implant was gone. And so was the pain around his cancerous pancreas. "Care to explain your pet?" he asked, dropping his shirt and staring in the direction the raptor had gone.
The young woman shrugged and said, "I'm an influencer. Some call me less complimentary things. I regard myself as a people person. I ask people to do things, and they do."
"You're a telepath," he said, staring at the hatch the creature had wiggled through.
"Hardly. Telepaths are just mind-readers," she said in an offended, girlish tone that felt like a curt slap. "I can implant visions, conjure false feelings, create recent memories, and drive my enemies insane with fear. Compared to me, a telepath is a tarot card reader."
"So…" Lockspur replied, looking her up and down. "You made it like you? That seems like cheating."
"Would you prefer I'd stuffed a grenade down its gullet?" she asked, gesturing for him to sit back down.
"It was messy, but effective."
"It was a showboat maneuver," she replied.
"What did you do to the raptor?"
"When I was a child. I had a small dog named Binky. I put an exact copy of Binky's mind over the Raptors." She looked at Lockspur and added, "Fortunately for you. Binky was a very loving little dog." She shrugged and added, "When I arrived, the beast was standing over you. I had no time to assess its intentions. So, I made a snap decision. Binky was the first nonlethal creature that entered my mind. I knew he wouldn't hurt you. So you got Binky the raptor."
Lockspur sat down, flexed his not-so crushed hand. It looked normal, but making a fist felt like dipping it into a bucket of hot water. The odd sensation started at the fingertips and ended just below the elbow. If he had to use it, he could. But it was going to be a while before it had any lasting strength.
"What did you say your name was?" he asked.
"Carolyn Fry."
"Carlos Lockspur," he said, offering a hand with a raised brow. The name sounded familiar, as if he had just heard it. "Ahh... Don't take this the wrong way, but weren't you killed in the crash?" he asked.
"That all depends. Do you believe in ghosts?" she asked, reaching out and touching his hand. He saw an image of her being pulled into the darkness and realized she had imprinted a memory in his mind.
"You need to make contact to imprint a memory."
"Yes… and no. Contact makes the psychic connection easier on the recipient," she admitted, releasing his hand. "But I can burrow into a locked mind if I'm forced to. It's not pleasant for the person or for me."
He felt a sudden, if not overwhelming, sense of déjà vu. "Have we met before?"
"We have met before. And we will meet again," she said.
"Do I even want to know what that means?" he asked, thinking of all the ways she could have altered his mind.
Carolyn shrugged. "I doubt you would believe me if I tried to explain. And no, I have not altered your mind."
He thought about the question and shook his head. "Probably not."
"If it's any comfort, Lady Hemmingford sent me. Not your Lady Hemmingford," she added. "Mine is from a different time-stream."
"Is she up to her old tricks?"
"Isn't she always?" Carolyn asked. "Thanks to what the two of you did here today. There are many Liliths now. One from this timeline, one from my timeline." She smiled and added, "One from every timeline."
"I didn't do anything," Lockspur replied.
"Oh, but you did. You just can't remember. Call it a side-effect of your rapid recovery. But fear not, your culpability in this little fiasco will come back in time."
"It was her," he said, touching his arm. "She saved me."
"Two times in as many hours. And be assured, it will cost her."
Lockspur rose to his feet, and Carolyn stepped away. "It was not an act of kindness. She saved me for her own purposes. She needs me because I still have a purpose." He jammed a trembling finger in Carolyn's face and added, "She uses people like pawns in a game."
"Come now, you're only pissed because you woke up and realized you're a pawn and not the king. We all use people, and we all allow others to use us."
"Who are you here to use?" He asked, turning to the sound of something big running towards them in the next compartment.
"A moment ago, it was you," she admitted. "But now it's her." Carolyn added, gesturing at Binky as she bounded in through the open hatch high above the far corner.
Binky landed hard and skidded to a stop just behind Carolyn and made several incoherent noises in her ear. "They've sabotaged the main control console on your ship. I need you to repair the damage and get that ship mobile again. Dark things are going to happen soon, and when they do, you need to be ready to move."
"What dark things?" Lockspur asked, curious how she knew someone had damaged this ship and who they were. He didn't expect an answer. Those were big-picture questions that rarely, if ever, ended in answers. It was the certainty in Carolyn's voice that convinced Lockspur. But if she knew that much about what was happening now, and going to happen later, she also knew he no longer had any way to fix the busted ship. Moss had dragged him off the bridge without his tools. "Sorry, can't help. Lost my tools back on the bridge."
Carolyn turned to the now-sitting raptor, who picked a large black backpack off the ground and handed it to her. "Did you get it all?"
Binky snorted and nodded.
Carolyn turned back to Lockspur, holding the pouch he had abandoned on the bridge. "Then I guess it's fortunate for us. Binky brought these," she said, handing Lockspur the overburdened tool pouch. "In case you're wondering, Binky used to love playing fetch. And she always found what she was searching for."
Lockspur held up his left hand and said, "What about my hand? It's still not strong enough."
Carolyn held up her hands and said, "This one is fine."
He sighed, took the pouch, pushed the strap over his head, threaded his left arm through the strap and rested his hand on the pouch. "I suppose you've already thought of a way to get us all the way out there?"
She smiled, hopped on Binky's back and held out a hand.
As he made to grab her hand, an energy wave passed beneath them, and Binky reared up in pain.
"Quickly, this moon is about to change."