The Expendable Few: A Spinward Fringe Novel Read Online Free

My vision is blurry, like I’m sinking into a shallow pool, then I feel a tear break free of my eye and roll down the side of my face.
    My chest expands and rattles, filling with air. It doesn’t feel natural. It’s as if someone flipped a switch and my body is rebelling against my grief by taking deep, slow breaths. I don’t want to calm down, I want to remember my sister and wonder if she was forced to perform in some elaborate scenario, in some kind of ruse. Maybe I’m a candidate for Freeground Intelligence, and it’s all a test. Holograms can be faked. My sister is smarter than that. The alternative explanations cloud my pain but before I know it I’m remembering sitting at her table after dinner, arguing about censorship and the transit ban. She was never much of a patriot.
    I don’t know how long I had my eyes closed, or what I was doing under those heavy lids, but when I open them, Shannon from Fleet Intelligence is standing over me with some squat-headed doctor. I can tell he’s a doctor because he has a long white coat and those searching eyes. I chortle, surprised by the man with the too-short head. It gives his face an unnatural roundedness. “Commander Patterson, can you hear me?” His head splits in the middle with each word like some kind of pre-school puppet. It’s at the same time horrifying and the most amusing thing I’ve ever seen.
    “Flip top head,” I whisper as I tap my fingers on the mattress - tap-tap, little tap out.
    “What did he say?” Shannon says. The way she speaks, the way she looks is completely normal.
    “It’s the ichni,” says the doctor, his head flapping open and closed with each syllable. “He’s under such a heavy dose that he’s hallucinating.”
    “Will he remember everything we’re saying?” asks Shannon, taking no notice of the Doctor’s unusual physiology.
    “What good would this treatment be if he didn’t? Be careful, his subconscious is wide open.”
    I check the top of my head and, to my relief, find no new orifices through which they can access my subconscious. Then I remember how heavy my hand is and it flops onto the mattress.
    “Do I ask the questions now?” Shannon the Fleet Intelligence officer asks the Doctor in a whisper.
    “Yes, but do not deviate,” Doctor flip-top head replies.
    “Commander Patterson,” says Shannon, raising her voice slightly as if there was something wrong with my hearing. “You are undergoing an expedited trauma treatment so we can get you back onto your feet as soon as possible. Is there anything I can get you?”
    “New doctor,” I manage even though my tongue suddenly seems too big for my mouth. “This one’s too…” I hesitate to finish the thought.
    “Doctor Marlin is the best we have,” Shannon tells me. “You’re in good hands.”
    “Marlin is a fish,” I comment aloud. Just like that, everything made sense. I blink a few times and they’re both gone. The passage of air across my teeth, tongue, down my throat and into my lungs becomes a conscious thing. Thoughts of better days, and a time of innocence begin flowing in and out of my thoughts. At best it feels like my life is being rolled out onto an examination table, at worst it’s as though it’s being repackaged so it can be placed in an overhead bin. Save it all for later, it does this soldier little good spread all over the floor, tripping him up.

  Part 2 – Patience
       
    I don’t know how I got here, but all that matters is the exercise table on my lap. Put the block in the square cutout. Put the ball in the circle cut out. Punch the octagon button when the red light flashes, the square when the yellow flashes, and when the table beeps I’ve done it all correctly and fast enough. I feel like I’ve been doing it for hours from the edge of my bed. Why is this hard?
    Just as the thought occurs to me, Doctor Marlin - I’ve started calling him Fish - stands up from his fold up chair and fixes me with a grin. “Very good. You beat