Wrath and Ruin

by C W Briar

  “Really? What do you want us to do?”

  Varik shoved his arm into his suit’s sleeve. “Keep it busy. See what other information you can get.”

  Janice shouted, “I’m coming too.”

  Within minutes, the pair donned their suits and disembarked from Unity. Varik accelerated too quickly when he jetted toward the other ship. He had to correct his maneuvers to avoid tumbling and rotating.

  A semi-transparent message appeared on Varik’s visor display.

  THIS IS GROUND CONTROL. VARIK AND JANICE, RETURN TO YOUR SHIP. PLANETARY CONFINEMENT IS REQUIRED.

  Callum radioed, “Commander, I see a message.”

  “I see it too.”

  Screw confinement, Varik thought. Angel One was supposed to be their key to the stars, not a locked door. “Ground Control, stop interfering with our communications. We pose no threat.”

  RETURN TO YOUR SHIP. CONFINEMENT IS MANDATORY.

  “No,” Varik replied.

  PROTECTION PROTOCOL INITIATED. SENTIENT LIFE FORM 46 RISK STATUS ELEVATED.

  Should he go back to Unity? Did the entity know of other sentient species? Questions inundated Varik’s mind, and chief among them was the one he asked Janice. “Is it an AI?”

  “It’s starting to sound like it,” she said. “Varik, you need to slow down.”

  He was closing in with Angel One at a reckless speed. Varik reversed thrust in the final seconds, but his momentum was too high. He reached out to absorb the impact and slammed into the hull. Pain launched from his wrist and flew up his forearm. After his body bounced, he clutched the injury and sucked air through clenched teeth.

  Janice screamed, “Varik!”

  “I’m fine,” he lied. His arm hurt, but at least it didn’t feel broken. He needed to press on. When the ship opened a hole in its surface, he flew into the dark, gaping maw, then headed toward the holograph room.

  RISK STATUS ELEVATED.

  The warning blinked on Varik’s display, but he didn’t turn back. Then the stranger transmitted something new, a video broadcast from Earth. The British prime minister, who looked unusually disheveled, was addressing reporters in front of the Palace of Westminster.

  “—Working to uncover the source of the computer virus. It’s difficult because the effects have been widespread. Global, really.”

  She raised her chin as she listened to one of the reporters in the back, then said, “No, we don’t know when railway service will be restored.” After taking another question, she said, “We still suspect cyber terrorists. We have no evidence that suggests alien activity related to the Unity mission is at fault.”

  “We need to tell them,” Varik said as he hustled clumsily through the curved hall. “Ishikawa, you need to hurry with those radios.”

  “Varik, which direction did you turn?” Janice asked.

  “Meet me at the central chamber.” He kept moving forward. After several seconds without a reply, he asked, “Janice?”

  No one answered.

  “Janice? Ishikawa?” Still no answer. “Unity?”

  Communications with the ship and Janice were gone. He called each crewmember’s name over his radio, but no one responded.

  The only audio came from the news feed, where a man in a dark suit was running toward the prime minister. He stopped on the other side of the podium and whispered into her ear. Whatever he said caused her to open her eyes wide.

  “I’m sorry,” she mumbled into the microphone, then retreated to Westminster as quickly as her age and heels would allow. The reporters rioted with demands for information.

  The video vanished. Varik heard nothing but the sound of his own heavy breathing. “Janice? Callum?”

  What was going on? Their situation felt like it had just veered in a new, terrible direction, but toward what?

  He was about to stop and go back in search of Janice when a glowing message appeared in the corner of his visor’s HUD. The simple statement struck him with ominous, indifferent finality.

  THIS IS GROUND CONTROL.

  PROCESS IS COMPLETE.

  He needed to go on, to put an end to this madness quickly. The doorway to the holograph room was near. Varik clawed his way toward it, even with his injured arm. His suit’s cooling system activated, blowing sweat off his brow. “Stop this, Ground Control.”

  REDUCING RISK LEVEL.

  Anger and fear wrestled in his chest as he reached the bridge to the holograph room. “Stand down, Ground Control,” he ordered, unsure of how to deescalate the situation.

  WELCOME BACK, VARIK.

  He flew into the room, which appeared unchanged since the last time he saw it. The tilted pedestal glowed beneath the two remaining processors. It projected various forms of “Welcome” into the air.

  A section of curved wall illuminated and projected the view of Earth from outside Angel One. They were on the dark side of the planet. Varik recognized the western half of North America by the pattern of glowing cities.

  “Where are you, Ground Control?” he shouted.

  The blue holographs scattered into a swarm of dots, then coalesced into three arrows. Two pointed at the processors on the lighted pedestal, and the other pointed at Earth.

  I AM HERE. INTEGRATION COMPLETE.

  The stranger was an AI, or rather a virus, and it had been hiding in the computer he sent to Earth. He had infected NASA and, based on the news broadcast, countless other systems across the globe. Guilt tore through him like a grenade blast. He trembled, causing his rapid breath to stutter.

  CONFINEMENT IS MANDATORY. SENTIENT LIFE FORM IS TO REMAIN ON ITS PLANET.

  This can’t be. His discovery was supposed to be Earth’s future, their ticket to the stars.

  DO YOU LIKE FIREWORKS, VARIK?

  The question confused and terrified him. Fireworks?

  The dimming view of Earth dragged Varik’s attention to the wall display. Cities went black, turning the planet into a dark orb. Then, as he watched in paralyzed horror, the silent fireworks show began. A burst of light appeared from the area where Las Vegas had been glowing seconds before. Then Phoenix. Then cities up and down the Pacific coast.

  Varik realized what the new phase of the AI’s plan was. He begged for it to stop, but his voice merely echoed inside his helmet. His heart plummeted into a black hole of sickening dread.

  The circles of light continued to flash at random across Earth’s surface. The devastating nuclear explosions coruscated like fireflies on a moonless night.

  The Case of Elizabeth Flora

  CLASSIFIED

  Office of U.S. Naval Intelligence

  3 December, 1919

  Transcript of the interview with subject Elizabeth Flora, survivor of the SS Providence.

  1st session

  —Should a told you I’m not crazy, doctor.

  I haven’t made any pronouncements about you yet, Miss Flora. Dr. Loomis informed me about some of your story, but I’d like to hear it for myself. Do you know what this is?

  ’Course I do, sir. It’s a gramophone. Mr. Pelletier used to play records on his.

  Correct, but it’s not just for playing music. I’ll be recording everything we say for later reference. Just try to ignore it.

  Yes, sir. It won’t bother me any.

  Good. Are you comfortable?

  Yes, sir … I know it’s true, the thing I saw. All of it.

  That may be, Miss Flora. I want to believe you, but I need to hear your story first. Can you start from the beginning? Maybe tell me a little about yourself. That accent? Louisiana?

  Yes, sir. Raised only a tomcat’s strut from Baton Rouge. Lived there all my childhood ’cept a few years during the war when my papa worked at the bullet factory.

  And your mother?

  Mama took care of us eight little ones. Six after Benny and Margaret died of the flu. She also worked at restaurants, cleaning dishes and such. Six days a week she did that, but not Sunday. Not on the Lord’s Day.

  Would you describe your childhoo
d as difficult?

  ’Twas about as good as we could ’spect in Louisiana. We had food on our table, and the white folks on our street mostly ignored us. Our years in Alabama was worse.

  No troubles at home? With your father, maybe?

  No, sir. My papa’s a good man. I have friends who had mean papas, but he ain’t one. They’s gonna roll out the carpet when he arrives at the pearly gates … Mais, if you think I’m making my story up on account a fear from my papa or mama, you’re wrong. They loved me.

  Doctor, I saw it move. I saw what it done to those folks, and I heard it—

  I have to ask questions like these, Miss Flora. It’s standard for my job. If you’re telling the truth, it will all become clear. What about your work? How’d you know Mr. and Mrs. Pelletier?

  Some rich folks at my mama’s restaurant was looking for help, so she told them ’bout me. Told them I was a good worker looking for a job, so they hired me to help out. Keep the house clean, or watch their grandkids.

  How did the Pelletiers treat you?

  Just fine. Good, actually. Mrs. Pelletier was always fussing about something ’round the home, and Mr. Pelletier had a quick temper when money was involved, but otherwise they’s good folk. They … I’m sorry. It bothers me terrible when I think about what happened to them.

  They were on the ship with you, correct?

  Yes, doctor.

  Take a breath, and then tell me about that.

  They decided to sail on a steamship to France. Mrs. Pelletier brought me with them so I could help, and it was all very exciting. I’d never done nothing like that before.

  The ship was beautiful, all white but glistening pink and yellow at sunset. I reckon its smokestacks was as high as those buildings in New York or Chicago. I had to sleep in the belly of the ship, in a room with other servants, but it was worth the heat and noise. I preferred being on top of the deck, anyway. People there was drinking wine and playing roque or shuffleboard. I just liked looking out at the sea or shore.

  I ain’t ever seen anything as beautiful as the ocean when sailing in the middle of it. It was like a big, endless jewel. The waves was gorgeous, and the sky and water was competing to show who had the prettiest blue.

  How did the accident happen?

  The other doctors asked me … I don’t like talking ’bout it, but I suppose that’s why we’re here.

  I was on the deck when it happened. Something big and frightful crashed into our ship and grabbed on.

  Something crashed into the ship, or did the ship crash into something?

  No, no. Something crashed into us. Something big, big.

  A whale?

  No whale could a pushed that huge ship sideways like it did. It was much bigger than us. Oh, that night was worse than a nightmare. I was setting on the deck, looking up at the stars, and the floor jumped to one side. I got thrown like an apple core over the railing.

  Others was falling with me. A lot of folks screamed all at once, but not me. I was too scared to scream, like my throat was grabbing on to my voice for dear life. The ship did my shouting for me. That hull made a banshee shriek. Sounded like a whole stable a horses was being attacked, and then everything silenced.

  I ain’t never hit something so hard and so fast as when I plunged into that water. Never been so deep, neither, and while I was down there, I saw a yellow, beating glow. It flickered as fast as a racing heart. I figured ’twas lights from the ship, but now I know better.

  If my papa hadn’t taught me how to swim, I’d a drowned. But I kicked and kicked, and when I got back to the surface, I filled my lungs with blessed air.

  You still believe something attacked the ship?

  Yes, sir.

  Did you see the attacker?

  Only the lights under the water.

  Your first impression that the lights came from the ship might have been correct.

  But we didn’t just sink. That ship turned faster than a boy turns to look at a pretty girl.

  The Providence might have struck an iceberg like the Titanic. The ships were about the same size.

  But the crew was watching the water.

  Ice can be awfully hard to see at night. Was there an explosion, perhaps?

  No. None.

  Lots of nations have submarines now. They’re vessels that sail under the water and fire torpedoes to sink large ships on the surface. No one has admitted to sinking the Providence, but they wouldn’t dare to. Or maybe the submarine collided and sank too quickly to send any communications.

  Submarines and icebergs don’t set ships loose after they sink them.

  Pardon?

  They don’t set ships loose. The Providence sank twice, not once. The first time, it went down so fast that hardly no one had time to escape, ’cept those like me who was on the deck. That vessel dove under the water, and hills of giant bubbles made a storm on the surface. Then at least half of it rose back up like a great, leaping whale. When it crashed down, it sunk again, but slower the second time. Desperate people jumped over railings if they could.

  And you’re sure this is what you saw, even though it was dark?

  Yes, doctor. I’d swear it on my mama’s life, and I’d swear it again.

  Hmm.

  You don’t believe me, do you?

  I believe you saw the ship sink, perhaps even in an unusual manner. But no one has ever seen a creature large enough to do what you claim. Science has come a long ways since the days when sailors blamed sea dragons for their misfortunes, and we’ve explored all of the oceans.

  You think I’m coo-yon? Touched in the head?

  Now, Miss Flora—

  Years ago, you would a thought me coo-yon if I said people could sail ships under water, but now we have submarines.

  I suppose I might have. Please continue. What happened next?

  All of us who escaped, we struggled for a long while in the ocean. People crying and shouting out names as they tried to swim. Some of them fighting over the flotsam they was holding on to. I tried grabbing the only boat that floated to the surface, but the people who reached it first hit me and pushed me away. They cussed at me and called me vile names.

  How did you survive?

  After a while, I found a table that come floating up. The good Lord provided.

  How is it someone clinging to a table survived while passengers in a boat have never been found?

  I didn’t do nothing to them, if that’s what you’re wondering.

  I’m not suggesting anything of the sort.

  There’re lots a explanations for why a little boat goes missing. Seeing a huge ship sink twice is far more confusing. You should figure out that mystery first.

  Hmm … You met Dorothy Fairmont while in the water, am I correct?

  Yes, doctor. She clung to the table with me.

  Tell me about her.

  She was a pretty, young white lady with blond hair. She must a been enjoying a party that night ’cause I could smell the champagne on her breath, but I think the wreck sobered her up faster than a belly full of curdled milk. I was rightly scared, but she was more so, wailing as if the whole world had sunk.

  And did you see the Pelletiers after the sinking?

  No, sir, and I wish I had. More than anyone, I wanted them to survive, ’cept for maybe the children. It’s … I apologize, but it’s terrible hard to speak about it.

  Would you like a handkerchief?

  … Thank you, doctor. Here—

  Keep it. Can you talk about the island instead?

  None of the other doctors believe me about what it really was. Will it do any good for me to tell you?

  I promise to listen before making my conclusions. Nothing more, but I think that’s a fair offer.

  Very well. At first, it was the happiest sight I’d ever set eyes on. I’d floated all night with Miss Fairmont and through half the next day, burning under the sun. Mais, bless me, when I finally saw those trees peeking over the waves, why I never tried to get someplace so desperately i
n all a my life. Miss Fairmont and I, we swam up to the shore. I rested a bit, and then I saved my wits and set to exploring.

  That island was beautiful but strange. I ain’t never seen anything like it, either in my life or in pictures. I been to the coasts of Alabama and Cuba during the Providence cruise, and neither of them looked like that island. Could a fallen from the moon, for all I know. It was missing the usual pretty, white beaches. Instead, that island’s grass grew all the way to the edge and even under the water.

  I say “grass,” but it was more like fat, lumpy seaweed. It couldn’t stand up more than a few inches ’fore falling over, and the long strands grew in spirals like they was trying over and over to grow taller but kept collapsing.

  The jungle trees was just as odd, with colors I couldn’t imagine even in dreams. One kind had silvery, fish-scale leaves that shimmered in the wind, and its orange fruit was shaped like a cow tongue. None were real tall, barely growing bigger than a bush.

  How many people arrived on the island other than Miss Fairmont and you?

  Three. Miss Fairmont and I found Mr. Louis Durousseau over there down the shore. He was the oldest of our group. He kept staring out over the waves, hair and brown suit still soaked through. He mumbled “Luna Belle, Luna Belle” over and over. That was his wife. He lost her on the ship.

  After some convincing from Miss Fairmont, he joined us as we hiked into the jungle toward higher ground. That’s when we met Vince Oak and John Codding. Vince was cutting through the brush with a knife. That man worried me from the first. Real handsome Texan. Young, tall, and muscled like a farmhand. But there ain’t no way I could ever trust eyes as intense as his. I wondered if he had fought in the Great War, and I asked him as much on a later night, but Vince just waved me away.

  Mr. Codding was smaller, naught but skin shrunk down tight around bones. He said he taught biology at LSU, and he had the most curiosity ’bout the island out a all of us. While Vince was chopping down everything in his way, Mr. Codding was plucking silver and red leaves to study them.

  How was your relationship with him?

  He left me alone, and he didn’t startle me like Vince did. Mr. Durousseau treated me the fairest, despite his broken heart. Miss Fairmont talked to me during the first few days on account of I was the only other woman. On the ship, they had all ignored me, though. I recognized all a them from before the sinking, and not one had acknowledged me.