The Dragon Commander (SkyLine 1)

“There is no one else,” Dorothy assured him.

“I’ll do it!” Tim flung a fist over his head. Morgan gently grabbed it, and lowered it for him. Chris headed over to clasp Tim’s shoulder.

“Welcome to the unit,” he said.

Chapter Four: Change and Fear

Sheba lay with her back against the wall, just hours from the passion of her lover against her skin. She missed him all over, every time she turned, and her hand passed through the void in their bed. She tried to leave the television off, but she needed something to chase away the scales and claws of her nightmares. The dim light of Chris’ dad’s old cable television filled the room. With the massive entertainment relocation to Fusion networks, there were hardly any stations left on cable. Just the news. Sheba knew it was a mistake before the broadcast even began, but she’d take anything over what waited behind her eyelids.

“If you haven’t heard already… ladies and gentlemen of Earth, there’s been a tragedy in Precinct 117,” announced the balding man on the screen. Sheba half listened, half pictured Chris charging through the background, the forested outskirts of Shanghai. “Biggest disaster since the Blue Terra massacre in 2317… Squires turned on their partners… no group has yet taken responsibility for the terror…” She faded in and out. Sheba’s eyelids flitted, threatening to drop the curtain on her consciousness.

A scaly fist of talons seized her collar. The beast yanked her up to it’s jaw, big enough to snap her off at the hips. A throaty grumble climbed it’s plated throat. When it dropped her, the sensation of falling rocketed her awake. Never once had a dream felt so real, like the wrinkles in her shirt were from the Dragon’s grasp, and not her sudden tossing. She muted the news and dialed Chris before a thought could cross her mind.

“Hey,” the sound of his voice shocked her halfway back to reality. Sheba hadn’t expected him to answer, let alone so suddenly, so calm. Had he any idea what kind of catastrophe he was heading into, she wondered, at the same time as, how much of this is the nightmares talking? “Sheba? What’s going on?”

“Just…” she forced out, a feeble attempt to stay his worry, “Just saw a news report on the attack in 117. You’ll be in Shanghai, then?”

“Sheba… you know I can’t say,” said Chris, and she did. “But you know who I have with me.”

“I do,” Sheba smiled, despite herself. If anyone was going to keep her fiancé alive, it was those four. “Tell them I said hello… and I’m sorry. I won’t call again, I promise,” Sheba said. It was her second shaky promise that night. That’s really it, she’d told him, to avoid revealing the dreams.

“I will. And don’t worry about the call, okay? I love you,” said Chris, ready for the gushing parody his unit would make of it as soon as he hung up.

“I love you too, Chris,” said Sheba, before the line cut to silence. Sheba slid down in their bed. She had to unmute the television to block out the whispers that crept into her ears.

After such a phone call, Chris wanted anything but to talk. It was for just that reason that he chose the seat across from Gendric on the magnetrain to the outskirts of Shanghai. He already had to sit with Tim, who looked like he might throw up again or scream, any minute. Chris didn’t need Selene or Lee’s antics right now. What he needed was to stare out the blurry window and think. He let his mind wander to the end of its rope and back in thought of what could be eating Sheba. She’d never called him on the job before. Ignoring the obvious danger of the mission, he traced back their past days, weeks, and months, in search of what could be wrong.

That stupid fight over what to have for dinner? Sure, Sheba always ended up deciding, without always consulting Chris first, and sure, he’d gotten a little loud over it, but no. It couldn’t have been that. That was weeks ago, and ended with balled-up blankets and a rocking bed. But that was their worst fight in months. Her parents? Chris moved on to next. She had agreed to bring them all across the SkyLine pretty quickly. He wondered if something had gone wrong up there, something even worse than the 3D diagnosis of her uncle a few years back. She’d been close with him, once, and that’d shut her down for a full week before she opened up. Chris had a pang of guilt for not having noticed, if there were any signs. She’s probably keeping it quiet because I proposed, he realized.

He just noticed himself drift off when turbulence rattled the magnetrain. Chris shot up seconds before his stomach did. It’d been some time since he’d spent so long on a magnetrain; the trip to Shanghai totaled forty-five minutes. It was disorienting in itself, to soar at such speed, with nothing beneath the car but air. It certainly didn’t help when a weather front moved in and jostled the train, which was secured by little else than high bumpers. How it’s all changed, Chris thought. There it was, a good distraction.

Even in his own lifetime, Chris had seen massive change on his little blue marble. There didn’t used to be a magnetrain track from Beijing to Shanghai. The fastest way was once the bullet train, which still ran for those who couldn’t afford the Cold Fusion alternative. There were still asphalt highways too, in the worst parts of some towns, and out in the real sticks. Cars out there sputtered fumes from the last fossil fuel reserves, driven by men like Chris’ father. He wasn’t sure which would come first: the final word of the WCC outlawing the use of those fuels, the last drop piddling away, or the companies still clinging to their old ways going under at last.

So too went the fall of combustion and nuclear electricity. Cold Fusion was faster, cheaper, and stronger. When Chris and Sheba started dating, the apartment they lived in now still had an outdated AC hookup from General Electric. Just a year ago, she’d told Chris, the last General Electric factory in Beijing had to close, pushed out by companies like SmartFuse. Dammit, Chris laughed. He knew he wouldn’t be able to keep her out of his head for long.

“Tim,” Chris surrendered to the last distraction he could think of, the one he was trying to avoid. Conversation. Tim could barely lift his mop of blonde-brown hair as an answer.

“Hm?”

“Are you familiar with the big separatist groups? Blue Terra, Ragnorak, those sorts?” queried Chris.

“Yes.”

“Do you know of any of them that could compete with what you’re doing at Nanoverse?” he continued.

“If they could… they’ve kept uncharacteristically tight-lipped… about it…” Tim grumbled. He was busy trying to pinpoint if it was motion sickness or nerves mounting in his throat.

“A valid point,” Chris supposed, “That only leaves the theory that it’s someone from Nanoverse, no? Any of your co-workers come to mind?”

“None,” said Tim, “I’m the only one working on a learning software. Most of the others at Nanoverse are focused on the FOS’ physical capabilities.”

“No one that collaborated with you on any stage of the project?” said Chris. Tim shook his head.

“Not this one.”

“What about a supervisor?” rumbled Gendric.

“I haven’t shared my breakthrough with him, yet… I suppose he could be digitally monitoring me somehow, but now I sound like a conspiracy theorist…” said Tim. He straightened up a little, his sickness subsiding with a thought. “Are we bugged right now?”