REDEMPTION TRAIL

It had been more than a day since Chellaina heard the last of the strange voices. The emergency receiver remained silent and still, though the life support system continued to hum as it relentlessly recycled life into the confined air of the shelter. Although the strange voices had brought an uneasy feeling of dread to Chellaina, they were at least an abstract form of company. Once again, she found herself alone next to Fenton, who had not moved or stirred in nearly three days.
The long, lonely hours were torture for an idle mind. Chellaina often found herself gazing up at the ceiling, as if she were trying to see through the concrete and dirt that separated her from the world above. She wondered about the sun- lit world above; was it still in one piece? Why did the sirens sound? What caused the horrifying rumble that devastated the disaster shelter? What was behind the strange voices?
Chellaina was distracted from her thoughts when something moved among the nearby rubble. She drew a quick, startled breath as she looked down at the debris next to Fenton; foremost in her mind was the fear that something heinous had found its way into the shelter and was creeping across the ruble toward her and her fallen hero. Her nervous eyes frantically searched the bits of dust and concrete for the source of the movement.
After carefully scrutinizing the all too familiar sight, she realized that something was amiss. A moment or two later, she finally discovered what was differentFenton's hand was in a different position!
"Fenny!" She shook him, "Fenny! Wake up Fenny!"
Shear delight spread across her weathered face as The General moaned ever-so-quietly. She shook him again.
"Wake up Fenny! You must wake up!"
Again, his hand movedfollowed by another moan.
Chellaina frantically attacked her medical case in search of the smelling salts; she knew that Fenton might slip back into deep unconsciousness unless he was awaken immediately. After a quick and frenzied search, she managed to locate her smelling saltsonly to discover that they had been damaged by the ages like the rest of her drugs.
A worried tear began to form in her eye.
"Chelly?"
The sound of Fenton's weak, raspy voice was more than Chellaina's strained emotions could bear; the tears of worry changed to tears of joy as she turned to face her fallen hero. Fenton's aged eyes finally open at a squint as he awoke to face the living world once more.
"I'm here, Fenny!" Chellaina draped herself over Fenton as she cuddled him gently and kissed his cheek. "I'm right here by you! Oh, thank GodI thought this day would never come!"
Fenton began to breathe heavier and fuller; he opened his eyes wider and groaned as he faced the stiffness in his body.
"Do you hurt anywhere, Fenny?"
Fenton took several more deep breaths before replying, "My head."
"You had a nasty bumpyou were out for days. Do you hurt anywhere else?"
"My shoulder hurts... I think it's just stiff."
"Good." Chellaina rose to a sitting position, then encouraged Fenton to do the same. "Can you sit up for me?"
With a series of moans, groans, and complaints, The General finally pushed his stiff body up from the debris- covered floor. Loose, sandy remains of concrete poured off of his spacesuit as he struggled to reach a sitting position.
"A lot happened while you were outlet me tell you!"
The General briefly glanced around the remains of the disaster shelter, then his weary eyes fell upon Chellaina. He took a deep breath, then smiled.
"You look lovely in your uniform."
"Thank you, Fenny. It's so good to hear your voice again."
"How long have I been out?"
"Three days," she emphasized with a nod. "I had to sew your head up."
Fenton raised a hand toward the wound on his head, "It feels tight."
Chellaina nodded, "It will, Fenny." She brought her hands together and offered a bright smile as her sparkling eyes studied each and every fine wrinkle in Fenton's face. She had seen him in better form many times before, but she could never remember being so delighted by the simple sight of his movements.
"It's so good to see you up and about!"
Fenton returned the smile, then looked around the shelter again, this time paying a little more attention to detail. He noticed that the life support system had been set up; he gestured to the equipment with an approving nod.
"You've done well, ChellyI'm proud of you."
Chellaina's reply was given with an unassuming smile, "It was hard workI'm surprised I managed."
The General leaned forward and gave his wife a gentle kiss on the cheek; his voice was gentle, and sincere, "You're a gem, Chelly. What man could possibly ask more out of life?"
Chellaina said nothing; she simply smiled in a girlish fashion.
"Have you heard any word about what happened?"
Chellaina shook her head, "No. The only thing I heard was strange voices, but they stopped a day ago."
The General furrowed his brow, "Strange voices? What kind of strange voices? What did they say?"
"I don't knowI don't think they were people like us. I wish you could have heard them."
The General pointed to the life support equipment. "Did they come over the emergency channel?"
Chellaina nodded.
"We can play them back; there's an automatic recorder attached to the receiver."
It was then that The General's eyes fell on the .40 caliber sidearm, which was still cocked and lying on the floor. A look of deep concern came across his face as he reached for the weapon. He slowly picked up the sidearm, then glanced at Chellaina, "Why the pistol?"
Chellaina spoke with a heightened diction as The General carefully uncocked the weapon, "Something evil tried to break in. They pounded away at the door, then they tried to burn their way in. God, Fenny, I thought we were done for!"
"Something Evil?" The General asked as he returned the pistol to the holster on his boot.
Chellaina nodded emphatically, "I don't think they were people like us. There was this rumble, then the strange voices came to the door"
The General interrupted with an upheld hand, "Let's take this a step at a time. Start at the beginning and tell me about everything that happened since the roof fell in."

The cabin pressure aboard the Star Saber was beginning to recover as its aged life support system struggled to make up the loss. Most of the smoke had already been removed from the air, though the smell of burnt electronic equipment still remained. The ship continued on its wayward course as Krey sulked in the pilot's seat; his disappointment with himself was clearly evident on his face as he relentlessly stared out at the stars.
"Krey?"
Krey glanced back at Cassie, who was approaching the copilot's seat; he returned his attention to the stars.
"What?" His voice was cold and distant.
"Are you alright?"
There was a noticeable pause before Krey replied.
"What do you care?"
Cassie studied the lines on Krey's face as she positioned herself into the copilot's seat. With all her intelligence, she still did not understand the motivation behind Krey's strange behavior. She had assessed him as egotistical, irresponsible, and arrogant; she did not expect him to be at odds with himself. After she finished strapping herself in, she looked out at the stars, then shrugged her shoulders.
"I just askedthat's all." She did her best to keep her curiosity of Krey's mood out of her voice.
The silent d‚tente persisted for some time with each contender mindlessly gazing out the window. As the minutes slowly ticked by, Cassie found herself questioning her own behavior as well. She thought about Krey's question; what does she care? The more she thought about it, the more it bothered her; why does she care? She spent quite some time puzzling over it before she finally noticed that Capella was in the wrong place; for the entire journey it had been seven and a half degrees to the right of the nosenow it was five degrees to the left of the nose.
Concern crept across Cassie's face as she looked to Krey. She noticed that he was looking directly at the star; why wasn't he making a course correction? She tried to think of the most tactful way to bring the subject up for discussion, though tact was not one of her strong points.
"You better make a course correction before it's too late." She realized, too late, that her tactful comment sounded extremely condescending.
Krey closed his eyes for a brief moment, as if he were highly irritated, but when he opened them, his mood seemed to change somewhat. He drew a heavy sigh, then turned to face Cassie.
"Look, ah..." His eyes swept across the floor as he searched for the words. "I'mahsorry."
"Sorry? What do you mean? Sorry about"
Cassie was silenced with an upheld hand. There was another lengthy pause as Krey struggled to say what he felt must be said.
"I didn't expect things to work out this way. I know we don't get alongand that has nothing to do with itbut, ah... When we started this trip, I was certain that this ship would hold togetherthat I could get you to Theti without any problems. After all, you held up your end of the bargain; you came through with the fuel."
He swallowed hard, then motioned to Capella, "I know we're off coursewe're going to miss Capella by almost a full light-year." He shook his head as he lowered his eyes, "I can't make a course correction; the time wake took out the flight controls all together."
He emphasized his point by moving the stick back and forth several times. The craft did not respond.
"I think the computer link between the flight controls and the time distortion engine is burnt-out." He released the stick, then returned his attention to Capella. "We can't change the shape of the distortion, we can't control the ship, and we're going straight to hell as soon as the supplies run out. By that time we'll be about 210 light-years from Earthdead-center in the middle of nowhere. And all because I was drinking when I should have been alert and ready to react."
Krey drew an uneasy breath as stared at the stars.
Cassie had never seen such a deep look of remorse and regret in anyone's face before. It was a look or a feeling that seemed to leach deep into the depths of her rigid being. She felt a subtle trace of a pain, unlike any other she had ever known.
They sat there in silence for quite some time; Krey staring out the window, and Cassie staring at Krey. There was so much that Cassie did not understand. She knew computers, science, and physics in exquisite detail, yet she was a stranger to the human emotions that had often intrigued her when she read about them in romance novels.
In order to protect her secret of Tripolean Syndrome, Cassie had diligently built a cold, impenetrable wall of isolation around her; it was like a fortress that surrounded her feelings. Suddenly, in deep space somewhere between Earth and Theti, she found herself looking out through the first faint crack in that crumbling fortress; what she saw was a taboo that seemed to beckon like a closed door or a locked safe. She felt like easing Krey's burden somehow, though she had no idea of why, or even how to go about it.
"Um..." Cassie lowered her eyes to the floor, then muttered in a less-than-audible tone, "Maybe I have problems too."
Krey looked to Cassie; it was apparent that he didn't hear her. "What did you say?"
Cassie supported a weak smile when she realized that her words went unheard, "I said, maybe we can fix the computer link."
Krey shook his head in arrogance, "Not a chance. I can fix anything mechanical, but computers and electronics are a mystery to me. We're stuck here, plain and simple." He returned his attention to the stars, then continued in a bitter tone. "So, just get used to the idea."
Cassie's brief moment of compassion quickly faded with Krey's arrogance; she let out a sigh of disgust, then replied in a condescending tone.
"Did it ever occur to you, captain, that I might happen to know a thing or two about computers?"
It was apparent by Krey's reaction that he had not even come close to considering that possibility. He turned to her with a look that stood somewhere between shock and surprise, "You do?"
Cassie rolled her eyes.
"No shit!?" Krey asked.
"No shit." She shook her head in disgust, "You are so quicksharp as a laser beam."
"Enough already!" Krey snapped. "How the hell was I suppose to know that you"
Cassie interrupted as she pointed to a computer console, which was mounted to the right of the copilot's seat, "Does this console still work, Einstein?"
Krey's response was flat and unamused, "It did last time I used it."
Cassie pulled her Model 7 out of a pocket, then reached down to insert it into an auxiliary slot on the console. She was just about to plug it in when she stopped short; she turned to Krey with a smug grin, which was beaming on her face like a beacon. She spoke slowly, clearly, and with a triumphant certainty that comes with having the upper hand.
"This is going to cost you."
Krey furrowed his brow in disbelief, "What do you mean!?"
Cassie's smile grew; she batted her eyes once or twice just to edge him on, "A deal."
Krey's look of confusion deepened, "A deal!? What the hell are you talking abouta deal!? We're in the same boat here, how can you sit there and say"
"Fine, fix your own damn computer," she put the Model 7 back into her shirt pocket. "I don't really care about dying anyway."
Krey rolled his eyes; he knew that she was not as indifferent about dying as she tried to portray, "OK, what kind of deal?"
"If I can patch this system together and achieve a course change..." She paused for effect. "...Then you have to agree not to drink any beer for the remainder of the trip."
Krey let out a sigh of disgust. "Alright!" he snapped, "Quit screwing around and get this thing fixed before it's too late."
Cassie's triumphant smile grew to near-biblical proportions, "Ay-eye, captain." She gave him a mocking salute, then reached into her pocket for the Model 7.

All was quiet in the disaster shelter as Fenton carefully scrutinized the burnt latch on the nuclear-hardened hatch. Chellaina was standing nearby; she maintained her balance by supporting herself with a hand pressed against the cracked, dilapidated wall. She anxiously waited and watched as The General diligently studied the latch.
"Hmm..." The General shifted positions and closed one eye as he tried to get a better look deep inside the narrow crack between the handle and the nuclear- hardened hatch. The disaster shelter was deathly silent for some time, then The General glanced up at his wife. "You say that sparks came out of this crack?"
Chellaina nodded, "Yesit was scary."
Fenton returned his attention to the latch.
"Did they almost cut through, Fenny?"
Fenton did not reply as he examined the latch. After struggling to learn the secrets hidden deep within the crack, he rose to a standing position, then shook his head.
"I don't think they were trying to cut throughit looks like they deliberately sealed us in."
"What do you mean?"
"The latch is fused; all the moving parts are melted together." He shook his head to emphasize his point, "We can't open the doorthe bolt is welded in place."
"What will we do?"
"I don't know." The General turned his attention to other components of the door. He began to examine the hinges, the nuclear-hardened frame, and the surrounding concrete. "We have explosives, but we don't dare use them in hereit would bring the ceiling down."
"You have a laser rifle," Chellaina suggested, "You could cut through it."
The General shook his head, "I could maybe cut a few small holes in it, but there wouldn't be enough in the laser's power pack to cut a hole big enough to do any good."
The General brought an uneasy hand up to his mouth as he thought about the problem. After studying the problem for some time, he reluctantly shook his head, then looked to Chellaina.
"I don't think we can get out this way." He walked over to Chellaina then offered her a hand, "Let's see if we can raise anyone on the radio."
Chellaina appeared to be somewhat uneasy as The General started to help her toward he life support unit, "But, what if we get those things with the strange voices?"
The General shook his head, "I don't know... We have to do something."
Chellaina thought about The General's words as they slowly made their way toward the life support unit through the clutter of debris. She tried to look at their problem as optimistically as possible, "Maybe we can get our friends at Elderly Support Services on the radiothey would come and help us."
The General nodded, though his expression didn't display a vast degree of hope, "Maybe."