I stretched one leg through the opening and paused again. No man had ever been in hyperspace, so far as I knew. Our scientists had no idea what an escape pod might do in that circumstance. It might be suddenly ejected, which was my personal theory, or it might break up into its basic molecules and be spread out over a thousand light years. But that wasn’t the worst-case scenario.
The worst case scenario was that the pods would remain in hyperspace. We’d be picked up by the Xeno and brought aboard their ships as prisoners. From there, I didn’t have the imagination to match their probably plans for us. Maybe they’d eat us. Maybe we’d become slaves. Maybe—
My thoughts were interrupted by another gravity wave. This one was powerful enough to knock me dizzy. I fell unceremoniously into my escape pod and landed hard in my seat as the chair automatically secured straps around my chest, waist, and legs. I heard the pod’s iris shut behind me.
“Eject!” I ordered, knowing the comm system would automatically patch me into the rest of my crew. Small thumps echoed into my pod—the sound of my shipmates escaping into the great unknown.
I was furious for a couple of reasons. First, I didn’t like running from a fight. Second, I didn’t like what was coming next. I’d be helpless for a while.
But I didn’t fight the robotic arms that rotated out from behind my headrest to secure a transparent breathing mask and tubes to my face.
A half-second later, there was a small but sharp pain on the skin just beneath my right ear. A hidden robotic arm had emerged from a panel near my headrest, and I was being injected by a sedative and muscle relaxant. Escape pod ejections were violent, and the drugs were meant to protect me from hurting myself during the launch.
The piercing-white lights in the pod dimmed to a dull, tired brown. A second later, the drugs turned my brain into mush, and I suddenly felt happy, relaxed, and as stupid as a box of boiled feathers.
I barely felt the explosion that catapulted me from the side of the Revenge.
Chapter Seven
I didn’t like drugs, especially the ones the escape pods injected. They made me feel numb and helpless, but the worst part of it was that they made me feel like I didn’t care.
The scientists who had developed the stuff knew what the effects were. They knew that if we were captured, we might be helpless for a while. But if they didn’t give us the drugs, we might rip muscles, pull our own joints out of their sockets, or otherwise injure ourselves. Then we’d be screwed for sure.
As part of our training, we were dosed about once a year. Any more often, and it was likely we’d build up a resistance, but any less often, and we might panic as we came out of the giddy, warm cocoon the chemicals put us in. Thrashing around in an escape pod could be dangerous.
I took a deep breath and gagged at the taste in my mouth. The after-effects were based on each individual person’s metabolism. For me, the major after-effect, besides feeling tired and dizzy, was a horrible metallic taste in my mouth. It tasted like I’d buried myself in a dumpster, found all the bottlecaps floating in the trash-water at the bottom, and for some reason, decided they’d do better in my mouth.
I inhaled again and realized the breathing tube was no longer on my face. If it were still there, breathing would be a little difficult. I’d get all the oxygen I needed, but it would only be delivered in measured amounts. Sometimes, people panicked on coming out of the drug-induced stupor, especially if they’d never experienced it before. Controlling their oxygen flow helped prevent them from hyperventilating.
For a moment, I wondered if I’d thrashed while I was out and somehow knocked the mask off my face. It happened to troops sometimes, but never to me.
As I lay there with my eyes closed, I became more aware of my surroundings. I couldn’t feel the seat of my escape pod, and I no longer felt the straps holding me down. There was no pain at the injection site on my neck, nor did I hear the status beep—normally sounding every 30 seconds—from the escape pod’s control board. None of it felt familiar, even though I’d been through the training at least 13 times.
I figured I wasn’t in my escape pod any more, and I was pretty sure I wasn’t dead, so I started thinking about other possibilities.
A Xeno ship could have taken me in and made me a prisoner, along with my fellow shipmates. That wasn’t so bad. It would save me the trouble of hunting them down later. Hell, I could rip one of their stupid legs off and use it as a club until I found something better.
Were they going to try to wake me for interrogation? Or would they allow me to stay here as long as I was still?
The Xeno weren’t like us. When we captured our enemies, we rarely allowed them to sleep until we had extracted some information from them. Sleep was a reward, not a privilege or a right. It had to be earned, just like food.
But enough delay. I was ready.
I opened my eyes and started in surprise. Though I couldn’t smell fire, there was smoke everywhere. The room was dark—really dark—as if the walls and floor had been painted black. I couldn’t see a light source, but I could see the smoke. I wondered if some of the other crew members had been captured and were nearby, but I couldn’t make out any of them beyond the thick haze.
I tried to stand, to prepare myself for a fight, but couldn’t find
