“Why would the EMP be failing? And if it was, seems like the bots would close in on them much faster than they are,” Mason said, thinking aloud. “If the EMP fails, it would be instant. Either it works or it doesn’t.”
“Are you sure about that? Perhaps its potency is just lacking. Maybe it needs an adjustment or something. It could be running low on power, and so the circle is shrinking.”
It never ceased to amaze Mason how she could come up with possibilities on the fly like that, making it difficult to focus on the worst-case scenario. He thought that skill probably served her well as a pilot on the ship.
They sat in silence, occasionally glancing over at the clock to see how much time had passed. They agreed to let at least an hour go by before they checked the size again, both keeping an eye on the circle, to at least assure themselves it was still there.
Mason was sure it was getting smaller, but he couldn’t comprehend why. It wasn’t a scenario they’d even considered. If the thing failed, they’d all be dead, so why worry about it? Vega could be right. It was entirely possible that it was bleeding power from somewhere.
At exactly 11:07, he shot off the coffee table, having never made his way to the couch. “Check it.”
Vega uncapped the marker and checked their altitude. ‘10,000 ft. 11:07 AM’ she scrawled on the glass as she drew the circle just barely inside the one she’d drawn before.
They stared at her work, doing nothing more than breathing. In. Out. In. Out. It wasn’t that much smaller, maybe two centimeters all the way around. But it was still visibly smaller than the original circle. The bots were closing in on the islanders. Did they realize it yet? Mason pictured them going about their work, not knowing that the bots were slowly making their way toward them, ready to spring at any moment.
“Shit,” he breathed.
“Damn it,” she said before she turned and sprinted from the room.
Vega mashed the glass on her comm as she ran. “Major, we have a problem.”
“Go ahead, Captain Fowell.”
“Something’s wrong on the mainland. The bots are closing in on the survivors.”
“What?”
“You heard me. I measured it. Their perimeter is getting smaller by the hour. We need that hack, now.” As she ran, Mason struggled to keep up, but she didn’t look back for him.
“Have the shuttles been deployed?”
“Affirmative,” the major answered. “Where are you?”
“Just leaving the observation deck. Heading your way now.”
“Copy that. See you in five.”
She lowered her wrist and picked up her pace. She thought she heard Mason groan behind her, but she wasn’t sure and she certainly wasn’t going to take the time to look back for him.
She arrived at the Major’s office a minute or two ahead of Mason.
“Where are the two you brought with you? Hawkins and Lehman?” the major asked as she burst into his office.
“Mason is behind me somewhere, and Lehman is sleeping in her quarters as far as I know.”
“Hawkins knows what’s happening?”
“He was with me on deck when we discovered it.”
“Wonderful,” the major said, but Vega heard the sarcasm.
“He won’t panic or make unrealistic demands of you, sir. He isn’t like that.”
“Captain, no one is at their best when their family is dying before their eyes.”
The image made Vega shudder. “We won’t let that happen. Get the shuttles down there, now.”
“It’s not that easy. They can only go in one at a time; you know that. And with the perimeter getting smaller as we speak, the survivors may be out of luck.”
“We can’t abandon them. They’re the reason we have hope right now.”
“I know that, Fowell,” the major almost shouted it at her, but she knew he wasn’t mad at her. He was only frustrated with the situation.
Mason came barreling into the office then, out of breath and bracing himself against the wall.
“We need that hack, now.”
Nineteen
Major Burridge looked calm and held out a hand to Mason. “Kingsly assures us he’s working as fast as he can. Try to be patient. No one has solved this problem in the last three hundred and fifty years. You can’t expect him to do it in an hour.”
“I can, and I do. He doesn’t see the people down there only moments from dying.” Mason pointed out the door, as if his people were just outside.
“The more you pester me, the less I can get done,” Kingsly said over a call neither Vega nor Mason knew existed.
They still couldn’t see his face, but Vega imagined him to be thin and angular by the sound of his voice and his attitude. Despite the fact that he was most likely sporting a bright orange prison jumpsuit, Vega imagined him wearing black pants and a striped black-and-white shirt. Maybe even some kind of hipster beret. Very much a villain.
“How are you coming? Are you close at least?”
“There is no close, Mr. Hawkins. Either it’s done or it isn’t. Right now, it isn’t.”
Vega thought she could hear him typing in the background, but it could’ve been someone else who was on the call.
“Out of curiosity, what are you doing, exactly?” Vega asked.
“I’m luring them to my server with treats and goodies,” Kingsly said simply. As if it truly were that simple. “Once I get a good response, I’ll start uploading the kill code I created from the one found in Ashby’s journal. The code is truly a work of art. There’s no doubt Ashby was brilliant, if not careless.”
Mason ignored his commentary. “You haven’t even uploaded the kill code yet?” he demanded as he paced around the room.
“These things take time, Mr. Hawkins. Don’t want to scare the prey away by revealing the trap too soon. They get wind of our scent and we’re done.”
“They’re not animals, Kingsly. They’re robots. They don’t have a sense of smell. Get in and get out, damn it.”
Vega had never seen Mason so upset and unreasonable.
“Has anyone alerted Lehman? She might be more…reasonable,” Major Burridge asked.
“Reasonable?” Mason demanded. “We don’t need reason right now; we need action.”
“Mr. Hawkins, we’re doing everything we can to save those still on the ground, please believe me when I say that. But what Mr. Kingsly is doing is bigger than forty or so people down below.”
“Ouch. That one hurt him,” Kingsly said.
“Not helpful, Kingsly,” Vega chimed in.
“Sorry, love.”
Vega rolled her eyes.
“Where are the shuttles at? I’d like to go down with one of them, be with my people, help them get to safety,” Mason said.
“Bring up the shuttle feed,” Major Burridge commanded.
The glass along the side wall of Major Burridge’s conference room lit up, and they could see the perimeter getting smaller. They were cut off from the sea. There was no escape now.
The shuttle hovered about a hundred feet above the survivors, struggling to stay in the air.
“I’d like to hear the audio, please,” Major Burridge requested.
The computer responded automatically, filling the space with the sounds of the cockpit, putting Vega in pilot mode.
“November six seven one Papa Lima. We’re having trouble stabilizing. Did Fowell have this much trouble?” the pilot asked.
“Affirmative. The shuttle was squirrely with her too,” the comm controller said.
“The space to land is getting smaller,” the pilot said. “I’m going to hover and toss the ladder down to them.”
“Aye,” the com controller said.
Vega could hear a chorus of alarms going off as the pilot opened the hatch and sent the ladder down.
“Shit. It’s not long enough. I need to go down further,” the pilot said.
No further conversation transpired as Vega watched the shuttle descend inch by agonizing inc
h.
More alarms continued to sound, but they ignored them.
“Can I speak to them, sir?” Vega asked Major Burridge.
“No. This is a one-way feed, so we don’t distract them or interrupt the person working comms.”
“Fine.”
The major’s assistant showed Lehman in just then. “What’s going on?” Lehman asked.
“Our people are about to die. We’re going to watch it. Mattli…” Mason couldn’t continue.
“Mattli is a feisty old man. He’ll figure something out,” Lehman assured him as she stepped closer to the screen.
Just then, a particular alarm caught Vega’s ear and she looked at the major, who wasn’t taking his eyes off the screen. “Something’s wrong,” she said.
“Vega, about ten million things are wrong. What gave you the outlandish idea something might be right?”
“No. That alarm. That’s the fuel pump. If they don’t address that, the shuttle will crash.”
“Shit.” Mason didn’t need to say anything else, and Lehman said nothing at all. Their one chance at survival depended on the ability of that man to pilot that ship under circumstances he’d probably never even trained for.
The alarm continued to sound for about ten seconds. “Doesn’t he hear that?” Vega asked as she took a step toward the tremendous screen.
The shuttle lurched, and Vega sucked in a breath. “He’s not going to make it. They need to take cover.” As if the islanders could hear her, she pleaded for them to get away.
But their circle of safety was growing smaller. In a matter of seconds, they were going to watch fifty people be crushed by a transport shuttle or consumed by the bots. Vega didn’t know which fate was worse.
“Shit, we’ve got a real problem here,” the captain declared.
“No shit, Sherlock,” Vega said impatiently. “Sir, how did these jokers ever pass their training? And why send such inexperienced pilots down for such an important mission?”
“Because you were occupied,” the major said simply.
Guilt settled on Vega. She’d been with Mason. Lehman approached and gave her a knowing look, then shook her head, as if telling her this wasn’t her fault. No matter what happened, it wasn’t her fault.
“I need to talk to them.”
“Patch me through,” Major Burridge commanded.
“This is Major Burridge, do you copy?”
“Aye, sir. I’m having some major complications here,” the captain answered.
“We can see that. Captain Fowell is here to help.”
“Fowell, how did you manage this?” the pilot asked, bewilderment apparent in his voice.
“Because I knew my face from my ass. Tend to that fuel pump, you idiot, before it’s too late.”
“It’s not responding to anything, Fowell. What do you suggest?”
“Did you try diverting power to it?”
“Aye.”
Shit. She thought for another five seconds, but it was five seconds too long.
“We’re losing altitude, sir,” the first officer said. And when they only had about a hundred feet to begin with, Vega knew it would only be moments before they were all dead.
“Get away from the survivors, now,” Vega commanded.
Holding her breath, she watched as the shuttle lurched forward as it started to fall from the sky. Vega had no idea if it would be enough to get them clear of the islanders, but her hope was all she had left, and she clung to it like the lifeline they’d tried to toss to the islanders.
Vega blinked and the shuttle was on the ground, flaming, just outside the circle of the islander’s safety. She’d sent that man to his death, but she felt even worse about the islanders left on the ground.
“Damn it,” Mason breathed.
“Now what?” Lehman asked.
“Why did the ship go down? If the EMP is malfunctioning, it shouldn’t have affected the shuttle at all.” Vega could see Mason’s frustration in his deeply furrowed brow as he tried to puzzle it out.
“It might not have had anything to do with the EMP, Mason. The shuttle might have just had a failure that, if dealt with properly, could have been resolved safely. But he was obviously ill equipped.” Vega shot a look at the major, but he only shook his head once and looked down at his desk.
“I need to get down there. Vega, can you take me?”
“I don’t—” Vega looked to the major whose eyes were still fixed on his desk while he leaned back in his chair.
“We don’t have time to debate this, Vega. Take me or I’ll find someone who will,” Mason said, putting her in a position she didn’t care for.
She walked over to him, pleading with him to calm down. Lowering her voice, she said, “That isn’t how things work around here. I can’t just steal a shuttle and take you down.”
“I hate to interrupt your little panic session, but it’s done.”
Kingsly’s voice brought their entire world to a screeching halt.
Twenty
“I’ll go with you, Vega,” Lehman said.
“Me too, Captain Fowell,” Major Burridge said, shocking Vega to her core.
“You what?”
But the major didn’t answer Vega’s question. “Thank you, Kingsly, for your service. Prime Minister Williams, I trust you’ll take it from here?”
“Aye, sir. We’ll be in touch shortly for a landing procedure.”
“Copy that,” the major said as he stood and walked around his desk to the door.
“You coming?” he said to Vega, who was too stunned to do anything but watch him take action.
“Yes,” she said, finally spurred into movement behind Lehman and Mason, who’d already followed the major to the door.
No one spoke on the way to the shuttle. Automatically, they strapped in as she fired up the engine, and were out of there in under ten minutes. Vega had never taken so many shortcuts or skipped so many checklists in her life. But she figured no one would be flagging her for anything since the major was with her.
“Captain Fowell, your controls on this flight,” Major Burridge said.
“Aye, sir.”
“Has anyone considered that Kingsly was playing us? How does he know for sure they’re dead? Or maybe it takes time for them to die? What if we go down there and the bots are still alive?” Lehman asked, giving voice to what Vega was sure they were all thinking.
The major got on the comm. “Connect me to Prime Minister Williams.”
“Aye, sir,” the comm operator said.
“Yes, Major Burridge?”
“I’d advise you to hold off on awarding Mr. Kingsly anything until we can confirm the bots are destroyed.”
“Noted, Major Burridge. He is still in confinement, and we are watching your progress anxiously.”
“Sir, we have a problem,” the comm operator said.
“The Perseus is descending on her own. We’re going down.”
“Who is at the helm?” Major Burridge asked.
“Captain Maxwell.”
“Patch us through to the cockpit.”
Vega put her hand to her tiny earpiece, as if pressing it to her ear would help her to better hear what was going on.
Laughter. Was that seriously what she was hearing? “Is that Kingsly laughing?” she asked, but no one answered.
“Captain, what’s the status?” Major Burridge asked.
“Eight thousand feet and falling, sir.”
“Aye. Attempt a controlled descent. Deploy landing gear. Make it intentional. Don’t let people die, Maxwell.”
“Aye, sir,” he said, but Vega could hear the fear in the tremble of his voice.
Twenty-One
Over the course of the short conversation, Vega had maneuvered them down rapidly to within range of the survivors. She could see their close-knit circle, but couldn’t tell if the bots were active. The fog seemed thinner, but there was still a definitively defined dark circle around the rim of the survivors. It was enough to make her hesitate
in taking the shuttle down outside the edge of the established circle of safety.
“There isn’t enough room to land safely inside the circle, Major,” Vega said.
“I see that.”
“How about the ladder?”
But Mason’s question fell on deaf ears as they watched the Perseus breech the clouds.
“Shit,” Vega breathed. “Don’t land it on the survivors, you idiot.”
“I’m doing my best here, Captain Fowell,” Captain Maxwell said.
“Sorry, Captain. Didn’t know our line was hot.”
“Nice to know what you really think of me though.”
Vega laughed. “Can it, Maxwell. If you didn’t already know what I think of you, you’re thicker than I thought.”
He didn’t laugh. “Two thousand feet.”
They watched anxiously, hovering at about five hundred feet. Close enough to see the survivors, and close enough to watch the massive airship make its descent but also far enough to stay out of range should something catastrophic happen.
“If that thing crashes, the shockwave might hurt the survivors,” Vega pointed out.
“Can we get them out in time?” Lehman asked.
“No,” Vega said, wishing her answer was different.
“Major?” Lehman asked, clearly hoping his answer would give her more hope.
“Captain Fowell is right. There’s no way we can get in and out at the rate the Perseus is descending.”
They were silent for a few moments as they watched the massive ship drop another thousand feet.
“Funny. I always thought I would be the one to bring him down.” She was feeling wistful, wondering if her nightmare was coming true. If she’d watch her home go down in flames, with nowhere safe left to go.
“Jo. I need to speak to Jo.” Vega was almost frantic all of a sudden.
“Fine. Permission granted,” the major said absently.
The Dead Room Trilogy Page 47