Raddocks Horizon (Godyssey Legacy Book 1)

by Duran Cross

  For a moment Van Gower is silent. “I’m ordering you to evacuate the Skyhook since no other aerial transports are going to be entering or leaving the city apart from military gunships. The Horizon Military are beginning a full retreat. Whitechapel is being cleared as well by the train system.”

  Roths’ forehead furrows. “The trains only hold a few hundred, how many trips are they going to make?”

  “One.”

  “One? That won’t evacuate everyone.”

  “Not a tenth. It’s an executive order that as many immune as we can fit will be given passage on the trains and all others will remain behind, military and civilian alike.”

  “Until when?”

  “Until the Alpha HolinMech team is deployed and seizes control of the city.”

  “When will that be?” demands Roths.

  “As soon as possible.”

  “They have to hold out indefinitely, is that what you’re saying?”

  “The HolinMech Warrior team, led by Magnus Breen, will be en route and that is all you need to know. Until then, all Skyhook personnel—you two—will be moved up here. Tomorrow,” says Van Gower disconnecting.

  Rethrin shifts her stance and takes a breath as if she’d been holding it during that conversation. “Did you make that up? About the United Governments demanding him to release the HolinMechs?”

  “If communications are down, there’s no way to prove or disprove what I said. It’s worth a shot either way.”

  Rethrin can’t help but smirk, a fleeting expression that vanishes as quickly as it arrived. “There’s something else you should know.”

  Roths has her hand across her eyes and sighs slightly. When she takes her hand away her eyes are wet but her expression is clear. “Why is there always more?”

  “You worked on a few aspects of the HolinMech android system design, yes?”

  “It’s why I was given the job as William’s second in Raddocks Horizon.”

  “Have you ever actually seen any of them?” Rethrin asks becoming more uncomfortable.

  “No I can’t say I have.”

  “Neither have I but several pockets of the military have worked with them on deployments and I can’t think how it went unnoticed.”

  “How what did?”

  Rethrin takes a breath. “I gained possession of a picture taken from security footage of one of the HolinMechs on mission. I don’t know if it actually is, but it looks an awful lot like Forgal Lauros as a HolinMech.”

  “What?” says Roths, trying to focus her exhausted eyes. “Which one of them? What is this HolinMech called?”

  “I don’t know which it is. Since Arca Drej went missing his picture is all over the place, so it’s one of the remaining twelve androids in the team.”

  “Where did you get the picture from?”

  “Peter Stanner’s office.”

  “Who?”

  Rethrin resists the urge to roll her eyes. “The policeman who shot all those people at the Gorai Aurelia Rally.”

  “He gave it to you?”

  Rethrin makes a dismissive gesture. “Of course not. I ransacked his office at the abandoned police station the night I fled. There is a lot there worth going through but I was in a hurry and that picture stood out the most.”

  “What in the hell is going on here?”

  ◆◆◆

  Sindaris opens his eyes to find himself staring at the ceiling of the reservoir.

  For just a moment he’s confused. He wonders if running outside and being found by the military was all a dream until he hears voices a little way off. Turning his head, he sees a small crowd of people nearby having a look at the destroyed controlling entity.

  A hand grips his face and turns it upwards. Sindaris manages to gain a glimpse of two glowing green eyes before a torch is shone into his face making him squint. “Sindaris Tessol, I am Doctor William Caufmann,” he says moving the light back and forth from one eye to the other. “How are you feeling?”

  Sindaris pushes himself to a seating position feeling several shots of pain from his arms. He checks them to find they’re both bandaged tightly. “I’ve been worse.”

  “I doubt that. We’ve been examining your handiwork,” says Caufmann inclining his head towards the dead controller. “I really wish you didn’t shoot it in the head.”

  As far as Sindaris’ eyes are concerned he is looking at the remains of his wife. He blinks but her visage doesn’t alter. “It still looks like her. Why does it still look like her?”

  “Who?” asks Caufmann.

  Sindaris nods to the downed construct. “It looks like the woman I married, the very day I married her.”

  Caufmann glances at the entity. “What I see is obviously substantially different to what you’re perceiving. Unless you married a woman with looks akin to a poorly crafted mannequin. The fact you still see someone you recognise means it’s not quite deactivated.”

  Sindaris seems to ignore him. “It was reading our minds, telling us what to do, uniting our entire consciousness into one driving force. Made my ears tickle and the hair on my head crawl.”

  Caufmann’s glowing eyes glance up to Sindaris’ hairline. “Is that so?” he asks running his hand through Sindaris’ thick hair feeling the strands.

  Sindaris feels a little uncomfortable, “It wasn’t as strange as what you’re doing now.”

  “We’ll have to shave your head, Mister Tessol. You may do your privates yourself.”

  “I beg your pardon?”

  “This being you shot is a conduit, an organic conduit, that sends out signals like an insect hive-mind. Your hair seems to have mutated into a kind of antennae, receiving these signals. If you shave it off you might be able to block the effects of other contaminants.”

  “But won’t that also blind me to being able to sense them?”

  “In theory it should work both ways, yes.”

  “That… conduit, controller, whatever it is, is dead now, so is it necessary to shave my hair off?”

  “It is not the controller. It is only an instrument used to control. Whoever is piloting the conduit is the real controller.”

  “Piloting it? From where?”

  Caufmann shrugs, his unnerving gaze fixed on Sindaris. “Anywhere. And we would be foolish to think that this is the only one. It’s probably DNA encoded and piloted by the same method it used to gain influence over you and the other contaminants.”

  Sindaris touches his own hair, “They’d have to be infected too.”

  Caufmann nods, “More than likely. Some kind of alternate mutation, possibly like you.”

  “How would we go about finding it?”

  “Impossible as far as I can tell. How do you track organic telepathic signals?”

  “They almost found me a few times through a kind of…” he tilts his head from side to side raising his hands searching for the right words, “… emotion web. A metaphysical target painted through the reactions of those around me to my presence when I exhibited any emotion strongly enough.”

  Caufmann’s face is expressionless but his eyes shimmer slightly as the thoughts fire though his mind at a ridiculous speed. “That’s brilliant. Truly brilliant,” he says, looking back to the downed conduit. “We’ll find it through the contaminants, but how do we get a strong enough emotional reaction that you can track? I suppose the closest to the source of the emotion feel it the strongest?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Sindaris, these others with me are leaving the city, you have the option to go with them.”

  Sindaris laughs. “To do what? Surrender and become a science experiment? Examined in a lab, poked, prodded and put through trials just to be killed and dissected… I can’t leave. Not really, can I?”

  Caufmann nods. “If I brand your forehead it’ll imprint a serial number indicating to scans that you’re Godyssey approved.”

  “You mean ‘property’, don’t you?”

  “Yes. Despite your infection you’ll be given enough leeway to
move about freely as long as you’re not in contact with uninfected people. The branding also means you’ve been extensively examined by a high-ranking scientist in the department of genetic research. My department.”

  “Won’t they expect scars of some kind?”

  “The ones on your arms are adequate and while you were unconscious I did a little poking around. You heal very quickly when stitched up properly.”

  Sindaris instantly looks down at his chest and pulls up his shirt revealing a massive scar from his abdomen up to between his collarbones. He lets out a shrill whimper when he touches it. Not from pain; from shock. “What did you do to me?”

  “I merely had a brief look at your internal organs. The operating scar is already sealed. A little fragile but stable. I didn’t have time to examine your spinal column but I’ll get to it.”

  “You certainly will not!” calls Sindaris pushing Caufmann away and sitting up gaining the attention of the others.

  “I sedated you, don’t worry.”

  “Of course, how silly of me to be upset in such a sterile environment.”

  “Your infection renders most other bacteria null. Most that would kill you post op, I mean.”

  Sindaris’ mouth twists into an artificial smile that would rival Caufmann’s most patronising feint of good cheer. “Keep your scalpel away from me.”

  “Don’t you want to know what’s changing inside you and what isn’t?”

  “Not as much as you do.”

  Caufmann takes a small object that looks like a stamp from his coat pocket. “You still need this branding. You’ll show up on scans, military weapon scopes, and you’ll be flagged as friendly. Without it, you’ll be shot when we reach Whitechapel.”

  Sindaris thinks for a moment then allows Caufmann to approach him. The doctor places the stamp against his head and presses the button on the tip, as if clicking a pen. A flash is seen followed by Sindaris crying out. His forehead steams and the emblem of Godyssey is burned into his head. It’s about the size of a bottle cap.

  ◆◆◆

  Rennin is playing with Drej’s knife, digging it into the reservoir’s surface when Sindaris’ scream of pain makes him jump. He watches Sindaris and Caufmann interact for a moment more before seeing that whatever happened was discussed prior. He returns his attention to the floor in front of him and continues scraping Drej’s knife against it.

  He’s tried to return the knife again but the deserter HolinMech won’t even touch it now. When Drej becomes agitated the knife vibrates. Rennin lays it down beside his rifle and observes the others, still crowding around the dead conduit. He sighs deeply and looks over to Wayne Carr. He sits with his wife and surviving children.

  This is turning into a circus, Rennin concludes. Now they have two dead CryoZaiyons, a deserter HolinMech and an infected civilian that seems quite polite.

  He sighs again when his rifle catches his eye. Something in the scope is flashing. He raises the scope to his eye. A quick inspection, and he can tell whatever was causing the flash is gone now. He frowns and puts it back down purposely in the exact place it was previously to see if it happens again.

  The flashing does indeed start again.

  He looks at it suspiciously for a moment and sees the knife in front of the scope. This time he picks the rifle up again aiming the scope at the weapon. ‘Substance 6’ flashes on the scope display. Rennin stares at it for a while as if in a trance then his eyes dart to Drej. He swings the rifle to aim at him. ‘Substance 6’ flashes again. Then he scans Antares, then Caufmann and both result in Substance 6 readings. He scans Sindaris and the same appears again. “Thermosteel...” he says and an image of Del enters his mind making him cringe.

  Within minutes, he is at the centre of show and tell to Caufmann and the group. Unsurprisingly, there are very few positive reactions to this news.

  Verge, Jawa, Carmine, and Sabre are mystified. Drake and Mia don’t seem to care. Wayne is attempting to keep his children calm to stop himself from panicking; the kids themselves seem completely disinterested. Drej and Antares are fascinated.

  “Substance 6 is Thermosteel… Del’s been re-purposed to harvest it, is that what you’re saying?” asks Antares.

  “What else could it be? Thermosteel is the most valuable organic mineral in the system. The contaminant bones are so strong because they’re made of Thermosteel,” says Rennin.

  Caufmann shakes his head. “Taking Thermosteel from a dead body won’t work, it has already solidified. The liquid primary stage is what’s valuable so you’d need…” he trails off and his face turns blank.

  Rennin nudges him. “Need what?”

  Caufmann blinks then looks at him. “The parasite in each contaminant spinal column would be interacting with the bone marrow centres and must produce raw material. If Del is harvesting those parasites and they can be kept alive within a new host or even survive independently after the initial parasitic stage, they could produce the mineral indefinitely.”

  “This entire city is… a farm?” cries out Verge disbelievingly.

  “This is insane, why here? Why not a third world country?” asks Sabre.

  “You think that would be better? What the hell is wrong with you?” asks Jawa.

  “It would be less obvious, is what I’m saying. This is a Godyssey city,” Sabre counters.

  “With a fully armed perimeter left over from the war. It would keep it contained,” suggests Rennin.

  Caufmann shakes his head. “No. This affliction was not meant to be used here, but the inadvertent architects of this disaster are taking advantage of it nonetheless.”

  “Well now what the fuck is going to happen?” asks Rennin.

  “Nothing changes. We’re going to Whitechapel.”

  15.

  Breakout

  After an hour of walking up the tunnel single file, Rennin has had enough. Drej’s knife is constantly vibrating and it’s driving him mad.

  Looking back, he can see Antares is holding Drej’s hand, quietly encouraging him along. Rennin can’t stifle his eyebrow arching but looks away when Antares’ green eyes lock on his.

  Drej doesn’t look good at all. He is scared to death of whatever it is down here that has been speaking to him constantly. Even with Antares assistance, Drej is almost mute with horror.

  Mia and Drake have tried to raise Horizon Military in the field on all forms of communication with no success. All they are receiving is static.

  Although there is a retreat to Whitechapel, they still should have been able to contact someone. But they haven’t. Hours of tuning the receiver has picked up only two channels, the was only gunfire on the first, and contaminants babbling on the second.

  Mia tries another channel. “Drake, which team is 107.65?”

  “Whiskey,” he answers.

  “How do you even remember useless shit like that?” asks Rennin.

  Drake shrugs. “It’s like remembering radio stations, I guess.”

  Mia speaks into the radio. “Whiskey Unit this is Raston Squad, are you receiving?” Mia asks and waits a bit but there’s no reply. “Whiskey Unit this-” she’s interrupted by Rennin switching the radio pack off.

  “No one’s there.”

  “There might be someone, arsehole.”

  Rennin’s eyes lock on hers like binary missiles. “What exactly are we going to do if we raise anyone? We can’t do much more than tell them to go to Whitechapel, which they would already know, because if we can raise them then the base can too, and if you call me by my daddy’s pet name for me again you can kiss our marriage goodbye.”

  Drej grabs Rennin’s shoulder. “There are two Suvaco units inbound to our location.”

  “How the hell do they even know anyone’s down here?” asks Jawa.

  “They didn’t say,” says Drej deadpan.

  “Was that a joke?” asks Rennin.

  “Be quiet!” orders Caufmann. “Arca, there’s nothing on my scanners.”

  “Nor mine,” Antares shakes her
head. “That thing is talking to you isn’t it? Where are they? How far?”

  Drej’s red eyes glance back the way they came. “Eighty metres.”

  “Behind us?” asks Mia, more rhetorically.

  “Are they jamming you?” Rennin asks Antares.

  There’s a series of curses that ripple over the coterie. Caufmann watches his gauntlet. “We’re just over a kilometre from Whitechapel,” he mutters. “Sabre, take Mister Carr and run his family to the trains with Carmine and I mean run. Go!”

  Sabre picks up one of Wayne’s children, Carmine the other. “With our hands full we need a gunner,” says the captain.

  “Jawa, go with them, drop your gun if you have to.”

  “No way in hell I’m dropping old faithful,” says the heavy gunner moving to stand beside Sabre.

  “Sindaris, Drake, you too,” orders Caufmann.

  Wayne grabs Rennin’s arm as he passes by. “Thank you, Rennin.”

  For a moment Rennin doesn’t know how to respond so he just goes with the first thing in his head. “Make sure you run those thighs off,” he says as he watches Wayne and his family leave.

  He half smiles. There is no way he will ever see them again.

  “Verge, you go too,” says Caufmann.

  The corporal shakes her head slowly, a frown on her face. “Not a chance. I’ve got a score to settle.”

  Rennin, Mia, Verge, Antares, Drej and Caufmann turn back towards the reservoir and there is a breath taken from each almost in perfect unison. Rennin and Mia take a few steps back towards the reservoir and crouch. The cylindrical tunnel isn’t very wide so they have an advantage, in that the incoming Suvaco units won’t have room to manoeuvre. The massive downside is a severe lack of cover.

  Rennin remembers Roths telling Caufmann about Del’s armoury being taken when the Suvacoes left the lab. The thought of all those hulking androids being armed is greatly unnerving.

  Rennin pulls his sniper rifle off his shoulder and slings his assault rifle across his back, sighing as he’s really feeling the extra weight. He takes out the clip and switches the necessary pieces back to bolt action. He grips the silencer, weighing up his options. The deafening sound in here will make each shot punishing for his hearing, but it will be more accurate. On the other hand, no one else is running suppressed so he removes it.