Clear

OK, how are you doing? she said. Remember a time when you were burned alive.

Here we go again, Frank thought. He had already remembered the time he was burned alive by a flamethrower in World War I. He was an infantryman. They had let him burn for two minutes before they mercifully emptied a machine gun into him, tearing his body into flaming scraps of meat.

Then there was the house fire in the 1700s. It was bitter cold and everyone had gone to sleep when a spark from the coal fire had set the place aflame. Everybody slept dreamily while they burned, intoxicated by the fumes, not sure whether or not it was really happening.

The last time was the most distant. A rival tribe had attacked the cave of his clan in the night, set fire to brush thrown inside and blocked the entrance. All the bodies were piled together next to the barricade, charred to a crisp. He was not sure if he could remember further back than that. He told her that. All she said was Fine — remember a time when you were burned alive.

She watched the tiny needle on the meter. It stopped and hovered. What’s that? Frank was at a loss.

I don’t know, he said. I don’t remember anything.

She looked at the needle again. It was frantic but otherwise stayed mostly where it was.

What’s that? she asked again.

Frank started to remember. He was a commander of the Galactic rebellion, flying a Storm Fighter and leading a squadron of 60 men. Deep into a reconnaissance flight inside Sector G they had encountered Subots — hundreds of small but lethal deep space drones armed with armor evaporating lasers and programmed to destroy on sight any ships without federation credentials. By the time the Subots were detected there was no time to take evasive action. They would have to engage.

The Subots launched flurries of Plutonium laser ordinance that instantaneously annihilated half his ships. Frank ordered a retreat, commanded those too badly hit to self-destruct, and regrouped the rest of the ships for a counter assault using a small moon as cover. They flew into Attack Formation V and activated the Theta sequence, opening a ray field that destroyed enough Subots so that they could fly past them and head directly to their control ship, a massive Panther Class Star Orbiter with a crew of 100,000 men and the energy of seven suns. Too late they realized it was a trap.

The Panther erected its defense shield and unleashed thousands of Firelight particles that eviscerated the ships like they were made of tin. Frank took a hit that sliced through his fighter and cut off his legs at the knees. His craft was set ablaze, a fireball hurtling towards the surface of the giant ship.

In intense pain but conscious, Frank ordered all able pilots to attack the main Panther Orbiter port terminal. He grimaced in agony and dropped the electrodes.

Frank, I need you to pick up the electrodes, she said. Frank screamed.

What the hell are you talking about? I’m on fire over here! I’m dying!

The needle had not moved. She adjusted the sensitivity booster.

Frank, she said again, calmly, I need you to pick up the electrodes.

Frank picked up the electrodes and immediately took another hit, disabling his remaining defenses, his ship disintegrating as he raced towards collision with the Panther. His communications were gone and he could no longer see around him. He had gone Dark Zero, fighter down. He screamed as the flames engulfed him. His Thermo suit melted and his skin began to liquefy into jelly. His insides were boiling.

Frank thrashed and kicked in his chair. He uttered vile curses and wished his mother to hell. He projected an acrid plume of green liquid across the table and shat his pants. Then everything went blank.

In another second he was just sitting there, covered in sweat, disheveled and smelling of rankness. His hands were bloodied from crushing the metal electrodes. He had the taste of bile in his mouth. Tears streamed down his eyes and he had drooled his shirt. In a few moments he recovered himself, and somehow, he felt at peace. Calm. He looked across the table. Drenched in puke, she smiled back at him. The needle was floating freely.

OK, she said. How are you doing?