Skies Over Tomorrow: Constellation Read Free

friend study the Pill.”
    â€œYou smuggled it off the base? Are you crazy? You’re asking for trouble.”
    â€œTrouble does have a way of finding me,” he said. “Any rate, this friend—he’s a chemist, PhD from Yale—said it’s a neural inhibitor.”
    â€œNeural inhibitor?”
    â€œYeah. He gave some to a lab rat. Came to find out that it not only tricks the brain to think the stomach is full, but it also halts the digestive system. I mean, just shuts it down.”
    â€œIs that all?”
    â€œâ€˜Is that all?’” he said. “OK, try this: Two hours later, the rat’s heart stops cold.”
    â€œSo what? Rodents and humans aren’t exactly the same species, you know. And if you remember correctly, the FDA did approve it for us. Without it we might as well be regular troops.”
    â€œIt stopped its heart. The side effects of this drug are potentially dangerous. On top of that, the body naturally needs to get rid of waste.”
    â€œThat’s why we take it after fasting for 48 hours. Anything else the body needs to get rid of, it can sweat it out.”
    â€œYou and the Army call it as you see it, but I don’t think starving for two days is healthy,” he said, “nor is smelling like a wet dog on a rainy day.”
    â€œCome on, two days. Why are you the only one in this unit that can’t fast?”
    â€œBecause I refuse to be brainwashed.”
    â€œYou’re a weak-minded pansy.”
    Carlston took another sip, and then said, “You know what your problem is? You’re too loyal. Sometimes I wonder if you’re being sincere, or just kissing ass.”
    â€œYou can be assured that I only kick ass, and I’ll kick yours if you don’t take the Pill.”
    â€œAnytime you’re ready.” The lieutenant then tilted his head back with the can on his lips. “This orange soda is good,” he said after a couple of swallows. “Sure you don’t want some?”
    â€œCarlston.”
    â€œDon’t say I didn’t warn you. When you open your eyes one night and realize you aren’t breathing, remember this conversation.”
    â€œYou’re paranoid,” she said. “Just take the thing.”
    â€œLike hell. Three years later end up with stomach cancer, or some shit like that. No thanks.”
    â€œBetter than getting caught taking a piss.”
    â€œI’ll take my chances,” he said.
    Simone recalled his words and the cheeky look on his face after he had finished off that orange soda. She was sure he now regretted not having taken the Pill; his chances did not seem too good. “You are so dead,” she said again, feeling no sympathy for him, as his disgrace laid a chill down her back. His screams for help were an embarrassment that began to tarnish the image of the Army Predator.
    â€œOh, kill him already,” she said. “Just shut him up.”
    â€œWhy should he die?” a voice said.
    Simone paused, remembering that she was not alone. “Attila,” she said, “what have I told you about that?”
    â€œThe neural output from your cerebral cortex is exceeding normal parameters,” the voice said over the commotion coming from the speakers. “It would seem your concern for Lieutenant Carlston is making you distraught.”
    â€œMe concerned about him? Distraught? Whatever.”
    â€œYou’re not concentrating on the mission at hand.”
    â€œCheck your directive program. You’re starting to sound bossy.”
    â€œI am within limits of my directives.”
    â€œYou could have fooled me.”
    â€œI function as link between you and the Hard Shell—”
    â€œThat’s right,” said Simone, “and that’s all I need you to do. My feelings are not your priority.”
    â€œYour concern for Lieutenant Carlston is affecting your concentration. I must remind you that he is