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(Page 2 of 4) Stellar Dust 6 - Take Me With You by Isaac Orr
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Stryler raised his rifle, stepping towards Loramy and about to squeeze the trigger.
His vision exploded into stars and he felt the air punched from his lungs as he flew across the room and hit the ground hard. He opened his eyes and tried to lift himself up, his head spinning, and his stomach heaving, causing him to vomit into his helmet. As he collapsed back to the floor he could still hear the screams of the passengers and the blasts of Loramy's force rifle before he blacked out.
When Stryler next opened his eyes he found himself lying on a bed in a dark room. His chest throbbed with pain and he had to will himself to ignore it as he rolled over and tried to stand. He could still smell his own vomit. His helmet was gone, but he was otherwise fully armored.
Standing shakily with his head swimming, he fumbled to remove his armor. There was a significant buckle in the breastplate where a force beam had struck, fortunately at below lethal levels. Once he had his armor off he sank back down on his bed and sat for a while. He shook his head slowly and shut his eyes, opening them again with a start as he saw the images of flying bodies that played against his eyelids. Screams echoed in his ears.
How many had died? He collaped back down, laying flat on the bed. It hurt to breath but as he felt at his chest, he couldn't find anything broken. It was very tender though, and probably badly bruised. He'd survive for now, at least until Loramy had him spaced.
Stryler lay in the darkness until he eventually felt up to rising again. He stood slowly and stretched, groaning at the aches in his chest and back. He had no ability to keep track of time, but his eyes had adjusted some. The room was not completely dark, because he could make out a few details now. Looking upwards he saw that the ceiling glowed slightly brighter than the rest of the room, providing a low level ambient lightsource.
He staggered ove to the far wall where there was a small toilet and a sink and relieved himself before washing the remaining vomit from his face and short-trimmed beard. His chest throbbed every time he moved and he groaned again softly as he collapsed back onto the bed, face down.
He fell asleep.
When he woke up it was to the sound of someone entering through the door to the room, light flooding in. His eyes adjusted slowly as he rolled over and looked up to see Doran walking over to the small table by the bed and placing a tray on it. Stryler sat up.
"Hi," he croaked.
"Lights. Door."
The door slid shut and the lights to the room came up in response to Doran's command. The younger man eyed Stryler sadly, shaking his head. "What happened?"
"Don't you know?"
Doran shrugged. "I heard. I'd prefer to hear it from you, though."
Stryler looked over at the tray on the table, his eyes adjusting to the brighter light. "Coffee?"
Doran nodded. "Help yourself."
Stryler sat up and reached for the cup. "How many people did he kill?"
Doran looked at his feet. "About twenty," he said in a quiet voice.
Stryler stared at Doran.
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