This was it. The big day. The day he had been waiting for all his life. The day he would go into space. His dream was becoming a reality. And he had never been more happier.
"You ready?"
"Always."
But all that joy and awe morphed into shock and horror as the floor shook and scorching fire licked at his astronaut suit. Was that an explosion?! What the heck was going on? An inferno began engulfing the space around him.
Out of nowhere. Pain. He couldn't think straight.
He felt sharp iron rip through his stomach. His eyes watered as he felt hot blood escape, slipping past the knife and staining his suit. There was a crimson blotch spreading out on the orange suit. He heard his mentor's voice.
"Clay?! Clay, hang in there!"
Solomon Starbuck hoisted Clay's left arm around his shoulders. The HAT-1 legend searched for an exit amidst the sea of flames. A metal support beam crashed beside them, almost squashing Clay. Clay Terran felt weak in Solomon's hands. Solomon supported Clay, easing through the doors.
The doors slid shut behind them. A klaxon blared in the stretch of corridor bridging the launch zone and the waiting lounge.
Another explosion shook the building and Solomon stumbled, Clay going down with him. Glancing behind, Solomon saw the trail of blood in their wake. He pressed his gloved palm against his junior's chest, right over his heart.
It was still beating.
Clay was still alive...
...but not for long if they stayed here.
Clay Terran was limp. He must've lost consciousness from the extreme blood loss, Solomon realized.
Solomon Starbuck picked up Clay Terran and managed to reach the lobby. He lay Terran out on a couch. Solomon took off his helmet and wiped away sweat with a glove.
He took deep breaths. His arms ached.
#
Not dead.
Not moving.
Clay Terran was sleeping.
Blissfully unaware of his surroundings.
Unaware of his presence.
Clay's chest rose and fell in smooth succession like an infinite cycle. He looked peaceful. His head was turned to the side, facing the wide windows in the room. An IV was connected to his left arm. A heart monitor beeped monotonously in a corner.
A turquoise plastic chair was beside the hospital bed. It's occupant was watching over the resting form of Clay Terran. This was Apollo Justice. His eyes were red like his work-suit. His cheeks were crusted with dry tears. He was hunched over, propping his elbows on his knees.
Apollo reached out to his friend. His fingers clung to the bed rail.
What happened at the launch was devastating. Thank God Clay was okay...
Apollo was not sure he could lose another friend. He already lost one good friend who turned out to be murderer bent on protecting his ego...
Apollo wasn't sure if he could cope with another loss.
Suddenly, Clay stirred. He opened his eyes groggily, groaning like a zombie. He saw where he was and doubled over. A hand was instinctively covered over his blade injury. Where the knife penetrated his flesh was bandaged securely. Clay felt the thick mache of bandages under his hospital gown - wait, what happened to his clothes?
Clay finally noticed Apollo staring at him.
Without warning, they hugged each other. Clay heard his friend sob with relief and felt Apollo's shake, bumping against his own. Neither said a word. The pair were glad they were still together. After all, they managed to survive through thick and thin together, standing side-by-side and staring trouble in the eye - be it a school bully or a nasty college professor.
Apollo wrapped his arms tighter around Clay's back. His friend was here, living and breathing. Careful not to put pressure on the wound, Apollo buried his head in the raven-haired man's shoulder.
Snapped out of a trance, Clay pulled away from the embrace and remembered something.
Where was Solomon Starbuck?
"Hey, Apollo. Where's Mr Starbuck? Is he okay?"
Apollo didn't reply instantly. Clay looked him in the eye. "Clay... I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..."
Sorry? What would be Apollo be sorry about? NO. No, no, no. This couldn't be -
"Mr Starbuck... didn't make it," Apollo broke the news bluntly. There was little use hiding the truth. Clay had to know.
"He died of a stab wound to the heart."
Clay looked away from Apollo, staring straight ahead. This has to be some kind of joke, right? He broke into a desperate grin. Yeah. That's right. That's all this is. It's just one bad tasteless joke...
"Seriously, Apollo," wheezed Clay, his voice hollow, "Drop the act." Apollo was shocked. Did Clay not hear him?
"Clay, this isn't funny," Apollo told him, noticing the sick grin.
"I know. That's why I'm asking you to stop lying and tell me the truth."
"I'm serious, Clay. Mr Starbuck is dead. I'm not lying. I would never lie to you, not about something this serious."
No. You wouldn't. Besides, you don't do jokes, period. This... this isn't a jest, this is... no...
Clay's eyes were glazed, as if he was dazed.
"Clay? Clay, I know this is really hard for you to hear, but I just want you to know, I'm glad you're alive."
Did all of space and time mess with me? Why? Why Mr Starbuck? Why did it have to be... you?
"It should've been me!" Clay roared. Clay brought a fist down, smashing a tray near his bed. The contents of the plastic tray leapt into the air and crashed to the floor.
"Don't you dare say that, Clay Terran!" yelled Apollo, his Chords of Steel matching his friend's voice. "I don't know what I would do if... if..."
If you died.
Apollo coughed into his fist. "Clay, It isn't easy to know about Mr Starbuck. I get that. But... he didn't go down without a fight."
"H-huh?! What makes you say that...?"
"There were signs of a struggle at the crime scene - the waiting lobby where you and Mr Starbuck were found."
#
The lobby was dark. The air stung of oxygen-consuming fire. Solomon Starbuck was exhausted. So exhausted he could take a nap right now on the couch across the lobby, opposite Clay Terran's own sofa. Solomon made his way to the intercom nearby, to put a call through to command.
The mission was a failure.
But as he was about to press the buzzer on the device, Solomon sensed an unfamiliar presence lurking in the shadows. An unwelcome presence, a hostile one.
The unknown person grinned like a jackal, showing his pearly whites.
Solomon presumed he was looking at a male - didn't sound like one of the Space Centre staff. What kind of a greeting was that anyway?
Solomon saw something silver glint in the blackness. He heard the rapid footsteps and saw the edge of a knife nearing his position. The attacker slashed the narrowing space between them. The blade cut a slit in the spacesuit's sleeve, barely missing human flesh.
Solomon knew there were people who preferred talking down a dangerous figure, to avoid getting into a fight. He wasn't one of these people. He was more of a doer than a talker. It helped get things done quicker.
Just like Hat-1. It was do or die. No point and definitely no time to mull over possibilities. Follow your training and survive.
Throwing a punch, Solomon hit the standing shadow square on the jaw. The figure recoiled and stumbled backwards.
Solomon thought the suit was slowing him down. It felt too tight. That was not right. Spacesuits are meant to be the correct fit, not three sizes too small.
No time to dwell on that now.
From the peripherals of his eyes, Solomon saw the silhouetted stranger going for Clay. "Killing two birds with one stone," murmured the stranger. "I like it."
Solomon tackled the attacker and pinned him(?) down. But the faceless phantom slipped from his grasp and plunged the knife in the astronaut's chest, driving the blade through Starbuck's heart. For Solomon Starbuck, time stopped. His eyes bulged. His breath ceased. He fell back, dead.
His last thoughts were of Clay. To protect his partner. To get him to safety.
That mission was a failure.
A single tear streaked down his cheek.
Panting, the shadowed man stood up. Now to take out the second one...
BLAM!
A bullet tore through the air, nearly puncturing the killer's right ear. He heard the distinctive noise of a bullet casing hitting the floor. A warning shot, no doubt. A second shot almost missed his toes. He didn't have time for this meagre distraction. The killer took off, squeezing through the doors that lead to the launch zone.
A cone of artificial light ran over the dead and the dying. Stepping closer, a woman carried a gun in one hand and a flashlight in the other. She wore a labcoat over her casual wear. She saw the knife sticking out of Solomon's chest and checked his pulse, just to be sure.
He was gone. The sad fact was, if she arrived a few minutes earlier, Solomon Starbuck would still be probably breathing.
She checked on the other astronaut spread out on a sofa.
"Hey, this one's still breathing! He is still alive!" she called out to the nearing footsteps. The power came back on and the crouching woman saw her blonde colleague on the doorway, who wore sunglasses no matter what time of the day. "Don't just stand there, call an ambulance, pronto!"
"R-right, on it detective Skye!"
#
"Clay, I hate to say it... but, I think Mr Starbuck was somebody's target during the launch."
"You put on his spacesuit. There was a switchblade there. If Mr Starbuck had put it on, well, the switchblade would've pierced his heart."
"Switchblade, Apollo?"
"Yeah. There was a switchblade knife tucked away in your - er, Mr Starbuck's suit. As soon as you would finish zipping up, the blade would slice through the layers and stab the wearer. ...That was most likely the killer's plan, Clay."
Clay Terran held his arm, not meeting Apollo's gaze.
"... I remember. When we were changing for the mission, we were in a hurry and... things got frantic. At one point, we both put our suits down on the same bench... and I must've... taken Mr Starbuck's, by mistake."
Quiet dwelled in the hospital room.
Apollo shattered the silence. "After all of this... do you think you want to go into space?" he asked gently.
Blue eyes locked onto hazel ones.
"...Maybe. Maybe one day. But not now. Not for a long while. Not until I find out who killed Mr Starbuck."
Troubled by those words, Apollo rubbed his bangle, tracing the grooves. He straightened. Holding Clay's right shoulder, Apollo softly said, "You need to recuperate, Clay. Recover. Heal. Rest."
"You won't see in here for long," Clay promised, grinning all of a sudden.
"You need to rest. I am going to look in Mr Starbuck's murder," Clay flinched, "soon. If I get anymore info, I'll keep you updated." Apollo fished a familiar object out of his pocket. Clay's mobile phone. "Here." Apollo placed the device carefully on the bedstand next to Clay. "I also bought a spare change of clothes for you. They're over there," gestured Apollo to the neatly-folded stack of fabric close to the window.
"You can get into my apartment?" asked Clay, surprised. "Uh-huh. Ever since that one incident," smiled Apollo, jingling a set of keys in his face.
"Don't remind me," muttered Clay. He sniffled.
"Apollo, thanks."
"..."
"For being here, I mean. By my side. I don't want to think what I'd do if you weren't here," Clay confessed, closing his eyes briefly.
"Hey, you don't need to explain. I get it. I understand. And anyway, it's what friends are for, right?" Apollo patted the astronaut on the arm.
"Right."
"Okay. Get well soon, Clay."
Apollo left, closing the door quietly behind him, leaving a slumbering friend.
#
"So, how is he?"
"He'll be okay, Athena."
The flame-haired psychologist/lawyer studied her co-worker. She sensed the worry in his heart, but Athena Cykes chose not to bring it up. Apollo looked like he was barely holding himself together, on the verge of a breakdown.
"I'm gonna go pay a visit to the precinct. I want to see the full results of the investigation so far."
"Here, I'll come with you."
Apollo turned his head to the side. He wasn't sure if he could handle company right now.
"Apollo, you don't have to do this alone. It's not easy. For you or for Clay. Let me help you, Apollo."
"...Thank you, Athena. But, are you sure you want to do this? It's your day off."
"Yep. And what better way to spend it than in the company of a good friend?"
Throwing his arms around her, Apollo hugged Athena. He rested his chin in her shoulder and she stroked his back, as if to reassure everything would be alright.