Read Online Star Soldier by Vaughn Heppner - Free Book Online Page A

second. Sweat poured. His shoulders, arms and torso felt as if they were afire. His eyes burned from lack of sleep. His stomach growled and gurgled by the minute—he was ravenous. When he wanted water, he tilted his head and drank. When he needed to relieve himself, he did so. A hundred different times he almost turned and shouted that okay, yes, he’d talk. Each time something hard and unyielding inside him refused. From time to time, an intern or doctor passed by, stopped, watched a moment or two, sometimes nodded, sometimes shook their head, often marking a slate and finally strolling on. Twice the major returned. She spoke to him over the intercom. He ignored her until she went away. Minute after minute he levered the handle up and down in stupefying monotony. After twenty-eight hours, sharp pains knifed into his back. He groaned, came close to collapsing, but then he gritted his teeth and pumped on.
    Finally, he stopped and let the water cascade upon him. It rose to his thighs, his stomach, up to his chest.
    “I suggest you pump quickly, Mr. Kluge,” the doctor said over the intercom. “The water acts as a drag and will make pumping later many times more difficult.”
    The work stoppage felt so glorious that Marten almost let the water reach his neck. He didn’t really believe they’d let him drown. Then a sudden and elemental wish to live bid him grasp the pump and move it! Pain exploded in his back and shoulders. His forearms knotted and the lever slipped out of his grasp. A desperate cry tore from the depths of his being. He concentrated on grasping the handle and pumped with a will. Water touched his chin. He pumped as air wheezed down his throat. He pumped as the horrible pain in his forearms receded. He pumped as ever so slowly the water inched down to his chest, his stomach and finally to his mid-thighs. Then he could no longer keep up the ferocious pace. He leveled off and tried to think. It was impossible. Life was one long agonized blur of pain and pumping.
    Later, through the distortion of his glass and that of the cylinder beside him, he saw a woman drowning. Her hair floated freely as she banged her fists against the stopper. Marten released his pump and banged on his glass. A nearby intern faced him. Marten pointed at the woman. The intern followed the finger, and his mouth opened in shock. The intern shouted. Marten couldn’t hear the words. Men rushed the platform to the tank.
    As Marten pumped, he watched them take her out, carry her to the medical center and work on her. After a short time, the doctor shook his head and covered her face with a blanket. Terror filled Marten. The woman had drowned, died, ceased living! They hadn’t paid enough attention. He became depressed and paranoid. He might die in here. Perhaps he should talk. The very idea stole his strength. He felt his pains more than before. His will grew weak.
    “What’s the use?” he whispered.
    He turned his head to call, but then a burst of pride made him clamp his mouth shut. He pumped the lever. His hands were like lumps and his arm muscles quivered. Air burned down his nostrils. The endless rhythm was agony, and the agony stole pieces of his pride minute after minute. The woman had died. He would die soon. Up and down, up and down. The sheer exhaustion was too much. He couldn’t do this anymore. It was time to give up.
    At that precise moment, Major Orlov marched into the room and halted at his cylinder. Perhaps she saw his despair. She grinned, and her eyes roved over his nakedness. Marten closed his eyes, refusing to look at her. But… yes, if that’s what it took. A great and mighty weariness stole over him. He opened his mouth and croaked, “You win.”
    In the silence, the water rose around him. Marten opened his eyes. Major Orlov had left. He wildly looked around. She wasn’t in the room.
    Marten pumped, and through the fog of exhaustion, he considered what that meant. Slowly, a new form of pride renewed his will and