Raddocks Horizon (Godyssey Legacy Book 1)

by Duran Cross

  Rennin looks away for a moment, glances at the gunship and the others, then back to Caufmann. “You’re the best weapon against this infection if it’s already spreading outside Raddocks Horizon. You’re a doctor and a scientist, you have a responsibility.”

  Caufmann’s expression is a very real one of incredulity, not a mere emotional feint. “You dare lecture me on responsibility?”

  Rennin releases Caufmann’s arm and puts his hands out placatingly. “Look, you said earlier that something is happening in Blackhaven. That’s only one suburb from here.”

  “Something is controlling the contaminants, and I believe it’s there.”

  “If we find it, it might help us get Del back. The contaminants are organic and so is Del, right? If it controls contaminants it might be controlling him, too.”

  Caufmann’s eyes flash for an instant. He squares his shoulders. “Yes, that’s possible.”

  “Either way I’m not leaving you here, so what are we doing?”

  Sabre interjects. “If Croft has lost it and commandeered a Desolator satellite, going airborne again is suicide. But carrying a family, how can we travel on foot?” he nods towards Wayne, his wife and the two children who huddle together in the ship, mourning but alive.

  Drej is wincing with a hand pressing against the side of his head. “There’s a train under Whitechapel being used for supplies to the fortified area. It was originally constructed to aid the underground resistance when the GA briefly occupied the city during the war.”

  Caufmann looks at Drej mystified. “How would you know that?”

  There’s a madness in Drej’s eyes but also an unsettling clarity. “The thing I hear in my head calling for help likes to talk.”

  Caufmann’s mind races. Perhaps there’s more to this thing under the city; someone or some kind of construct down there calling out, and Drej is attuned enough to hear it for some reason. There were bizarre readings emanating from below the city when he was still in the lab, but I thought that was something caused by Prototype. Instead, Prototype may have been hiding down there not just to be obscured by interference, but also to search for this thing.

  “I don’t know what it is that’s talking to you, Arca, but you're not as insane as I'd thought.”

  “It won’t stop talking.”

  “Does it know what happened to Del?”

  Drej nods. “I don’t understand the information it’s producing. It just says that Del is very small.”

  “I need any information it has immediately.”

  Drej nods, his eyes beginning to flicker. Caufmann’s gauntlet beeps as a wealth of knowledge floods his system. Drej’s eyes return to normal but he’s frowning as if straining to hear a distant voice.

  “It’s now telling me that there’s a reservoir under Blackhaven that can lead us to the Whitechapel underground railway.”

  “Arca, the sequence you’ve given me won’t help him, it will kill him.”

  Drej ignores him, his face turns puzzled. “What?” he asks aloud. “Who? … A contaminant? …”

  After a moment Caufmann taps him on the shoulder. “What is it saying?”

  Drej looks at Caufmann. “It doesn’t make sense. It says that a contaminant shot an organic conduit that was communing with a larger contaminant group. During his escape, he influenced contaminants to attack each other.”

  This information has Caufmann engrossed. “Who did this? What contaminant?”

  “An elderly man called Sindaris Tessol.”

  “Where is he now?”

  “This all happened just now. Tessol has just left this entity’s scanner range.”

  Rennin looks to Caufmann. “What are we doing, William?”

  Caufmann glances to Rennin, then to Dead Star. “Get the restraints from the gunship’s POW case.”

  “Why?”

  “Just do it.”

  ◆◆◆

  In Whitechapel, Commander Croft is wandering around in the control room lost in thought. Desolator 1 cut a trench several kilometres long and the Defence Force has gotten wind of it. He’s just finished his conversation with his superior outside the city wall, which has done nothing to abate the ever maddening look in his eye.

  Hannon is rubbing the back of her neck nervously. Either her collar is chafing or she’s been absently rubbing her neck so often that it’s causing a rash. “Sir, what did they say?”

  Croft glares at her for a moment. “Those idiots cut off our control of the Desolator satellites. We told them it misfired, they said that a mole program sent them the specific commands we gave it to fire at a skewed angle tracking one of our own gunships. They didn’t deem it appropriate that we shot it down with honourable troops aboard despite the risk Caufmann may have posed. They said it was unlawful; that the thing Caufmann built was an asset, do you believe that?” his voice rising to a screech.

  First Officer Hannon inwardly cringes. She doesn’t want to answer any of his questions. She believes Jorge Croft is having a breakdown, but is too frightened to declare him unfit. “What will we do, sir?”

  “It’s simple. We-” he’s cut off by a communication signal.

  Hannon’s face is shocked. “Commander, there’s a call coming from gunship Dead Star.”

  For a moment Croft is stunned and it looks like fear on his face. His dark eyes look like liquid sinkholes, swirling with a new insanity. “Patch it through, Grace.”

  Hannon does so and on the screen is Beta HolinMech sniper: Mia Saker. In the background kneels a heavily bound Doctor William Caufmann, with Rennin Farrow standing guard, a gun to his head.

  The sniper speaks immediately. “Sir! Mia Saker of Raston Squad reporting. Desolator 1 fired and Dead Star is all but wrecked. Del was lost in the crash and we have Caufmann in custody. Corporal Verge, Captain Sabre, our heavy gunner and a private are the only ones left alive. We’re also escorting a family of uninfected civilians we rescued earlier. Awaiting instructions.”

  Croft feels his spirits lift instantly. He blinks a couple of times. “Good work detaining the doctor, but where is the Del android?”

  Mia shakes her head. “Completely lost it once the Desolator fired on us. Smashed its way out and left us. Current location unknown.”

  Croft can’t help but grin. The rewrite program has worked. He can’t believe how well this has turned out. Earlier, he wasn’t sure if they would follow through with the order. But now with Del out of the picture and Caufmann subdued—alive—he can interrogate him. “Bring him here. Any way you can. Your location isn’t showing on our instruments.”

  “Transponder is shot to hell, we made an emergency landing on the Blackhaven-Currajong border.”

  Croft nods. “We’re beginning an evacuation from Whitechapel through the train systems. The transports we used to bring everyone here from the Stadium left and haven't returned. The havens outside the city were too full to move them straight there and we were stupid enough to think we could protect them here. They’re not coming back for us.”

  “We know of some underground tunnels that lead from here to Whitechapel, connected through a disused reservoir.”

  “I thought that was all flooded.”

  “Apparently not, sir. It was used to catch rainwater for storage during the hydro-crisis eighty years ago, but since the weather augmenting machines were patented all underground storage reservoirs from then on were used up, then abandoned when empty.”

  Croft can’t suppress another grin.

  Too perfect.

  “Excellent. Use them. Just get Doctor Caufmann to me, he has some serious questions to answer.”

  “Yes, sir. Coming to you now as fast as we can.”

  “We’ll be expecting you,” says Croft. As he moves to disconnect the call he catches Caufmann looking at him and feels a momentary chill as if the doctor’s eyes are drilling into his head.

  ◆◆◆

  Sindaris Tessol can feel himself ailing. He is still bleeding badly, and he is unsure he can continue. He is still m
uch too close to the reservoir entrance, but he can’t run anymore.

  The deep gashes in his arms are so wide he has to entwine his limbs, clasping them tightly to himself just to hold them together. He has slowed to a stumbling pace. A normal man would have passed out quite a while ago. His accelerated healing is quick but isn’t able to deal with the wounds fast enough. He stops his awkward shambling to lean against a wall for a moment. He has to catch his breath.

  Despite the threatening sky, the rain hasn't started to fall. The clouds are ominous, and thunder is beginning to sound overhead. Between peals, he hears his thick blood splashing onto the ground and dribbling onto his boots. He feels dizzier by the moment but forces himself to look at the wounds on his arms.

  Sindaris can still see exposed bone in one of the gashes regardless of the amount of blood oozing across the wound and out.

  His mind begins to swim. His mind clicks back to reality, shaken by the sound of his name being shouted not very far off.

  Unbridled panic grips his heart. How could the infected still call his name? Sindaris grits his teeth and lets out a pained grunt at the futility of what he’s just done.

  He’d shot a controlling entity, he realises.

  Maybe there are two, or ten. He grips his wound, sending a severe sharp pain up his arm and hears himself cry out. He can feel himself pulsing in and out of focus.

  Then something strange happens. Something pops in the sky a few hundred metres away. He looks up and sees a bright green flare, followed by his name being called again.

  Soldiers. They’re looking for him. Somehow—he has no idea how—but somehow they know about him. They’re even calling his name. So they also know that he’d understand them when they talk.

  How?

  He looks at the blood seeping through his fingers, feeling a wave of weakness creep over him again. He’s going to die from these wounds, he knows. He feels himself huff out a small rueful laugh. Most people don’t realise in the age of cybernetic augmentation that you can still die very easily from a serious enough injury to a full-orga extremity. Particularly a blade wound. Or several for that matter.

  He looks up as another flare sails into the sky to explode in a beautiful green light. His wife’s favourite colour was green.

  Jasmine, he closes his eyes trying to picture her face.

  Several others are calling his name from varying distances now. He lightly shakes his head at the sheer stupidity of whoever it is, calling out the way they are with hostile lunatics infesting every part of the city.

  Or is it desperation?

  He decides he has so little to lose by turning himself in that he might as well see what they want with him. He swings himself off the wall and makes his way towards the latest popped flare.

  ◆◆◆

  Rennin fires another flare into the sky. He and Corporal Verge stand in the middle of an intersection calling for someone they've never met, feeling quite exposed when a hunching figure limps into view.

  “Contact!” says Verge and her weapon is up instantly.

  “Don’t shoot, it might be what’s-his-name,” says Rennin aiming at the figure. ‘Substance 6’ flashes in the scope. “It’s infected.”

  The slow moving silhouette is slowly moving towards them. Verge is obviously anxious to fire. “They travel in packs, what do we do?”

  “Hey!” Rennin calls to it. “Stop! Hands up!”

  The figure continues sluggishly walking towards them. Verge shakes her head. “I’m going to put it down, Tessol is supposed to be intelligent.”

  Rennin calls out. “If that’s you, Tessol, stop moving now!”

  The figure halts about twenty metres away.

  Rennin shines a torch and can see this man is badly wounded, bleeding heavily from both arms. “Tessol?”

  Sindaris tries to answer but sways with weariness, barely managing to nod before croaking, “I can’t move...”

  Rennin takes a few cautious steps towards Sindaris and shines the light into his face to get a look at him. He sees binary pupils turn to slits in magenta eyes when the light touches his face. “What the fuck?”

  Sindaris’ eyes roll up in his head and he falls over.

  ◆◆◆

  Above Raddocks Horizon there’s a shadow in the sky. That shadow is a station in extremely low geosynchronous orbit known as the Skyhook.

  Doctor Mepida Rethrin stands at the docking area alone, watching as a small transport lands, the Godyssey emblem proudly emblazoned on the side. A hatch opens, producing Doctor Jellan Roths. Her lab coat is ripped and dirty, leaving exposed lacerations on both her body and face. For a second Rethrin thinks she’s infected, but her eyes are decidedly human and focussed. Roths’ expression looks more lethal than a loaded gun. “We’ve lost the city.”

  Rethrin has already thought so but to hear it from one of the most intelligent minds of the modern age adds an entirely new level of discomfort for her. “Your report on the Suvaco units is-”

  “Shocking, to say the least,” Roths interrupts. “William refuses to allow us to call in the HolinMech Warrior androids to help. His revolting project, Del, has gone rogue. I’ve been watching what general city surveillance remains on emergency power to find it. I only found it once and recorded what it was doing,” she says holding up a memory stick.

  “What’s on it?”

  “Not here.”

  “What is it?” Rethrin asks.

  “It’s too serious to show when someone might be watching us.”

  “This whole station is automated, no one’s here but us.”

  “No one’s here? Skyhooks are epidemic relief and treatment stations. Why is there no one here? Where are the medical staff?” asks Roths looking around, noticing the oppressive silence.

  “I don’t know and I don’t care right now. At least it’s Godyssey, we’re safe here.”

  “Look at me!” shouts Roths, holding out her arms to leave the tattered rags of her jacket draping down. “This happened to me in a Godyssey city! William’s pet project is ripping people apart and our company built the blasted thing.”

  “The infected?”

  “Everyone,” says Roths making her way past Rethrin. “Take me somewhere we can view it.”

  Rethrin leads Roths through the empty Skyhook orbital base to a cabin she’s commandeered as her operational base. “Why did you wait so long to come up here?”

  “There was work to do and many were wounded when the lab was hit by Prototype.”

  Rethrin unlocks the door and they enter her cabin. “Desolator 1 fired without permission, did you hear?”

  “I saw it fire. I informed the Defence Force and they’ve frozen all commands to the satellites in-city,” Roths says wiping her filthy brow.

  “What did the Defence Force say in terms of relief effort?”

  “There won’t be one. I spoke with General Faraday. He’s stationed just outside the city with the evacuated survivors. He said they’ve lost contact with their command.”

  “Jesus Christ. How far has this spread?”

  “Irrelevant,” says Roths handing her associate the disk. “Play it.”

  Rethrin puts the disk into her personal terminal on her desk and the security footage starts playing with Del immediately drawing attention, holding a contaminant face down on the road and literally tearing it apart one chunk at a time. The contaminant is desperately thrashing around but Del’s grip is firm. Del thrusts his free hand down hard to pierce the fragile skin, ripping out the spinal column in one brutal movement, killing the contaminant instantly.

  The spine itself wriggles about, a life form in its own right. Rethrin squints trying to get a closer look at the parasitic organism. Del gently places the spine in a sack of some kind and the recording ends. Rethrin looks to her superior immensely confused. “Why is it doing that?”

  “I don’t know. It’s been doing that all over the city,” Roths says, removing the surveillance disk and handing Rethrin printouts of other bodies; stills t
aken from other cameras. All have the same injuries, their backs ripped open and spine torn out.

  “Del’s been rogue for two hours now and has cut a swath like that in a straight line leading towards Centre-city District.”

  “Why the spines? Why just the spines?”

  “I don’t know, but it’s no mere trophy. William didn’t program that in, I’m sure of it.”

  “How do you know?”

  “Because Del is specifically designed to kill androids. He was built to hunt the progenitor-class,” explains Roths.

  “What can we do?”

  “William is stuck in that city now, and the Horizon Military aren’t equipped to deal with the growing hostile infected and a combat-grade android,” says Roths typing into the console, bringing up an emergency communications channel with the HolinMech android moon base Iyatoya.

  Van Gower answers the call, his hair dishevelled. He wipes his eyes. “Doctor Roths? How did you get this code?”

  “Chairman Van Gower, we’ve issued an emergency distress call requesting the aid of HolinMech androids, and it has gone practically unanswered.”

  “They’re in diagnostics.”

  “For an incident that happened months ago! The Defence Force of the United Governments has been informed and tomorrow morning you’ll be demanded to release them. I’m calling to advise you, as my employer, that a receptive attitude to their aggressive request would be the wisest course of action.”

  “Thank you for giving me a heads up, Doctor Roths,” he looks at her on his screen and frowns. “You look terrible.”

  “I only just made it to the Skyhook, the lab was destroyed, it’s a disaster zone down there. Personally I don’t understand why you’re delaying so long just for diagnostics that should already have been well and truly completed.”

  “It’s best to be completely prepared.”

  “Prepared for what?” she almost spits.

  “Watch your tone, doctor.”

  Roths' eyes blaze. “How dare you? You haven’t the slightest concept of what is happening down here. It must be an amazing comfort looking at all this from a safe distance but when these things, wearing the faces of people you know, are bearing down on you you’ll find that common etiquette for people holding back valuable resources tends to escape you,” she says, her tone utter poison.