by In Churl Yo
“Arsenal,” Milton said.
She knew it. She expected to hear it, and yet the word still hit Neema with the force of a bullet, taking her out of her head and into the hole of a deep, fresh emotional wound. She paused to collect herself, and though part of her was not surprised by his treachery, it still hurt. Neema repeated his name. “Arsenal,” she declared, then looked at each of them with newfound purpose. “Find him.”
CHAPTER 33
A flash of green. A glint of metal. Laughter.
Not a dream, but not quite awake either. Zoah’s head felt heavy to her, a bucket full of water tied to a rope swinging away from her body, then back again, over and over. She fought the sluggish pull, tried to center herself, but couldn’t gather enough will to resist the lethargy permeating her brain.
Sourdough bread. A pigtail. A flightless bird.
The last thing she remembered—what was she doing? There was panic, a pain in her chest. Both still lingered. Zoah latched onto her discomfort, used it like a mooring in a storm.
A pig’s tail. A sunburn. Cloud shadows floating across a field.
Slowly then, she lifted herself, felt the swirling miasma in her mind fade into the background. An aching, invasive light met her, wrenching her from unconsciousness—now awake, strapped in a chair feeling crummy, and stars twinkling everywhere. She sat up and regretted it right away.
“Ah, good. You’ve roused,” said Theo Ogden. “Not permanently damaged, I hope, from your experience.”
“Experience?” Zoah looked around, still a bit foggy. She was in the co-pilot’s position on a drone ship orbiting the Earth and somewhat confident she wasn’t still dreaming. Her head, however, was positively throbbing. “Where are we going?”
“Why, home, of course. That aberrant monstrosity we just left will not be the future of mankind. It certainly won’t be my future, nor yours either, I’m afraid.”
“What are you talking about? They’re trying to save us! Didn’t they tell you about the blight?”
“Yes, yes,” Ogden dismissed. “A tale told to comfort children or for cowards who run from the truth when it’s too difficult to face. Besides, what do these people know about saving the world? They aren’t saving it. They’re leaving it.”
Zoah shook her head, hoping for some mental clarity. Ogden was at her left, his chair reclined and attention placed on the sound of his own voice. The vessel was on auto-pilot, preparing to make the descent into the atmosphere.
“I, on the other hand, desire nothing but to heal our planet, our birthplace and birthright. Your father—my father—my moth… well, she’s not my real mother, actually—none of them have any idea what it truly means to lead. They lack vision. They’re absent the wherewithal to get things done. This drone we’re in is the real answer. This drone is all that is left of their failed, flawed solution, and I will use it to reclaim that which is rightfully ours.”
“I don’t understand,” Zoah said.
“Naturally. But then, how could you?” Ogden replied. “How could you know that this drone was the very one they used to spread the Zombie Flu around the planet? Why, you’re sitting in the seat that activated the aerosol disbursement nodules below deck introducing the virus into the atmosphere, killing billions of people. You’re as close as one could get to truly becoming Death, the destroyer of worlds. How does it feel?”
Zoah remained silent but felt like coming out of her skin.
“This drone is going to help the Ceres Corporation discover a cure for the pandemic. After that, we will muster every resource on the planet to defeat this so-called blight, and I will be hailed as the savior of mankind. History will remember my name forever.”
“Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair?” Zoah muttered.
Ogden smiled and sat up in his seat. “Tell me, girl, will you offer as clever a retort once I reveal that your family, that everyone you know and hold dear, will soon die horribly, painfully?”
The Ceres CEO unhooked his harness and floated across to her in the zero-gravity environment, his face close to hers, his eyes studying her expression. “Nothing to say?”
“You’re lying,” was all she could manage.
“Oh, that’s right—you were semi-conscious during the excitement,” said Ogden. “Forgive me. There was a second explosion on the Gaia, one that resulted in the unfortunate destruction of a secret laboratory. Would you like to proffer a guess as to what was being housed there?”
Zoah was done playing this game. She had already begged Ogden for her father’s life once—what, was he expecting her to plead again for her entire family and friends this time? Zoah needed to end this insanity—if only she knew how.
“No guesses,” he uttered. “Well, then, I’ll give you a clue: Karma, as they say, is a bitch—in this case, an irony-inducing, brain-eating bitch.”
“You’re going to unleash the Zombie Flu on the Gaia. Destroy mankind’s last hope,” said Zoah. Her mind raced in myriad directions. “I’ll stop you.”
Ogden sniffed. “This is why I’ve kept you around. Not only do you amuse me to no end, you also add strength to my resolve—watching you suffer this way, hearing your misguided rhetoric, tells me what I am doing is efficacious and true. Besides, you are too late.”
“What do you mean?” she asked, panic abuzz and throbbing a million beats inside her chest.
“It’s done. The Gaia is already doomed.”
# # #
Atmosphere swirled around Caleb, a slough he had to fight through with every step. He had carried four survivors out of the arboretum already. Now laden with his fifth, the thin air and exertion were both having a serious impact on his abilities, not to mention leaving him feeling more than a bit woozy. He was thankful that others had since arrived to help him, and Caleb was confident his was the last man left to deliver to safety.
“Final one, as far as I can tell,” Nox said over the communication channel. “How are you doing?”
“You know, I’ve never liked you much,” Caleb replied with some effort between labored breaths.
“So I’ve heard. The breach seems to be cooperating for now, but the network has been damn unreliable—data streams have been coming in garbled or routed from the wrong system. I can’t explain it or find the cause.”
That wasn’t Caleb’s concern—he was more worried about taking his next step, followed by another, followed by however many more it took for him to make it out of the arboretum with his passenger. When he reached the outer corridor, Caleb dropped the unconscious man at his feet and fell to his knees, fighting hard to keep from hyperventilating as he sucked in as much air as his lungs could handle.
Several deep inhalations later, Caleb realized something was wrong. “This man needs help! I don’t think he’s breathing!” He leaned in closer to the technician he’d been carrying and searched for a pulse.
Since he’d first arrived on the scene, a makeshift triage had been set up in the hallway to tend to the wounded. Someone treating another patient shot up and ran toward Caleb, then started checking the man for vitals. “How long?”
Caleb was still a little groggy and slow to respond. “How long has it been since he stopped breathing?” the woman asked again.
“I don’t know. A few minutes maybe.”
“Here,” she replied and placed Caleb’s hand on the man’s chest. “When I tell you, start pumping there with your fist until I say otherwise. Up and down, over and over. You know the drill.”
She began administering CPR, offering air into the man’s mouth for several seconds before giving Caleb the signal to start. They took turns, each doing their part, until after a time the woman stopped and placed her fingers on the technician’s throat, searching for a heartbeat—she looked at Caleb and smiled. “He’s breathing.”
Caleb collapsed against the wall exhausted but laughed just the same, thankful to have had a hand in saving the man. Twice.
“What’s your name?” the woman asked.
“Ca—ouch!
” She had pricked him with a small needle. He rubbed the spot and gave her the stink eye. “Caleb,” he said, finishing this time.
“I’m Madeline. You came aboard with my daughter.”
“If your daughter is Zoah Lightsea, I suppose I did.”
Madeline took a quick sample of her own blood using a fresh needle, then took both vials and placed them with several others she had gathered. “You did well, Caleb. Thanks for the assist. Look, I have to go now, but those nurses over there will tend to our patient soon. Sit tight, okay?”
He watched her leave. She sprinted down the corridor, or as well as one could sprint in a low-gravity environment, then disappeared around a far bend.
“Congratulations.”
Caleb closed his eyes and took another deep breath, only slightly annoyed. “Were you listening the whole time?” he asked.
“I was working. It was like background noise,” Nox replied. “You saved that man’s life. Now, are you ready to save some more?”
Caleb grunted. “Tell me what I have to do.”
“It won’t be easy, but I’m sure you’ll manage. There’s an access panel 30 meters down the hall. Think you can find it?”
He stood up, using the wall for support. When he felt ready, Caleb started walking. The panel cover was clearly marked but also stuck, and it took him a minute to wrench it from the wall. Inside, he found a series of wires and lights, switches and knobs—all very confusing to him. Caleb produced a low whistle and shook his head.
“Do what I tell you. You’ll be fine,” Nox reassured him. The white-haired man then led Caleb through a series of tasks that, when completed, would bypass the emergency control primary circuits and reroute them. He tapped in the last sequence, and the entire panel went dark.
“Hey, um, what just happened?” Caleb asked. “Everything just died.”
“What was supposed to happen. You’re done. Mission accomplished. Head back to the command center.”
“That’s not an explanation. What are you planning?”
The communication channel went silent.
“Nox, tell me what the hell is going on.”
“Fine,” he replied. “There’s a problem.”
“What kind of problem? You’re not trying to be a hero, are you?”
“No. Not at all. Maybe a little. Look, if the arboretum had just decompressed, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. Sections are compartmentalized for that very reason, so that if we lose one, we don’t lose them all,” said Nox. “But the structural integrity of this entire side of the ring has been compromised by the explosion. If the arboretum continues losing atmosphere, the surrounding areas won’t survive the pressure differential when it’s gone, and once those walls go, we’re looking at a catastrophic containment failure. There’s pressurized gas in some of those rooms. There’s a good chance they’ll ignite, and we would lose more than just the C ring. We’d lose the entire ship.”
“And that’s a problem,” Caleb said. “I get it. Can’t we just pump the air out of all the affected spaces, alleviate the pressure?”
“We could, but that system was damaged by the explosion. Besides, while you’ve been bringing out wounded, I’ve been placing micro-charges along the exterior walls of the damaged areas. In a few minutes, I’m going to run a series of controlled detonations that should vent this entire section. Problem solved.”
“Then why do I get the feeling you aren’t telling me everything?”
Nox sighed. “Most of these walls are shielded. There’s no guarantee the transmitter will signal the explosives if I’m too far away from them, which means I’ve got to stay close.”
“Close?” Caleb asked. “How close?”
“Pretty close.”
“You’re insane. A leak is one thing, but you’re about to put a bunch of holes in those rooms. The atmosphere will clear out in a matter of seconds. There’s no way you’ll survive. Come up with something that’s less stupid.”
“I’ve got seniority. My plan, my choice, soldier. Besides, you can’t stop me—no one can. You just disabled the override controls in that panel. I’m locked in already. It’s all done except for the crying,” Nox said.
Caleb cursed. “You’re a piece of work, you know that?”
The man with white hair laughed. “A cross I’ve had to bear, although at any rate not for much longer,” he replied. “The corridor should be safe, but just the same, it’d be best if you evacuated everyone down to the Axis.”
“I’m on it,” Caleb said. “I’ll get them out. Any other last orders?”
Nox sat back and considered the offer. “The Lightsea family will need you, and we’ll need them if humanity’s going to have any chance of surviving. I’ve always considered protecting them a privilege—something to be taken seriously. That duty is yours now if you’re willing. Think you can handle the responsibility?”
“It’s handled,” he answered without hesitation. “I’ve got the watch.”
“I told you this wasn’t going to be easy—nothing worth doing ever is, but I promise you the Lightsea’s will be worth your best. You have my word on that. Now get going. I’ve got a schedule to keep,” Nox ordered.
Caleb turned and ran down the low-gravity passage toward the triage area, knowing that this was the last time he’d ever hear from Nox, the man with white hair, but to his surprise, finding himself hoping it wouldn’t be.
CHAPTER 34
42 Years After the Pandemic
The view from his visor was magnified by a factor of ten, but even so, the crowd of people being watched looked tiny, the distance between them and their observer still too far for the enhanced video filters to display any kind of real detail beyond their number and general demeanor.
He was almost 100 meters from the site lying in a tall meadow still wet from an early morning rain, dialing in the focus and exposure settings on his cufflink to try and get a better handle on what he was seeing. His body had made an impression in the surrounding scrub, the blades weaved and bowed forming a grass bassinet around him, swaddling him in a cover of natural camouflage.
From the image, Arsenal guessed there were fifty or so scavengers milling around outside the giant metal door, all trying to find a way to get passed it and into the Ceres supply station. No doubt they were looking for food and provisions, maybe even weapons, which he knew were likely inside the adjacent building.
Good luck breaking through that thing, he thought.
Arsenal scratched his chin and resisted the urge to pull off the breather mask he was wearing. He could swear the damn thing was suffocating him even as it was supposed to be delivering clean, virus-free air to his lungs.
“Stop messing with it,” Neema said over the com channel. “You know they had an outbreak there last week. You really want to risk infection?”
“I’m looking at a mob of unprotected outside the gates right now. None of them look sick to me.”
“Your funeral,” she replied. “You should know by now there are no guarantees when it comes to the flu. Just because some new people come along to replace all the ones who died doesn’t mean it’s safe. They’re most likely a bunch of walking corpses.”
As much as he hated it, he had to agree with Neema. The breather would stay put for the remainder of the mission. While there were few things he valued more than his personal comfort, his life was chief among them.
“Tell me when you’ve reached the grate, Arsenal. I’ll be waiting.”
He grunted a reply, then retreated the way he came, crawling back into the undergrowth and staying low, careful not to get caught. Ceres facilities generally had their fair share of complex security measures, but this one was content to rely on an impenetrable twelve-foot barrier wall for protection. That, coupled with the fact that most of its population had recently been evacuated because of the Zombie Flu, made it an ideal target for a Kiter raid. Easier to infiltrate, yes, but it wasn’t going to be a simple walk in the part, either. It never was.
Arsenal circled around the perimeter until he found what he was looking for: a waste disposal pipe hidden behind a wild, overgrown hedge of ground cover. He hacked away at the thick shrub until he could finally see the access grate.
“I’m here,” he announced.
“Hang on.” A few moments later a bolt clanged free and the metal lattice door swung open. “You’ve got thirty minutes starting now. Make them count.”
He peeked inside and retreated almost immediately. “Oh, hell. I thought you said this sewer line was discontinued?”
“It was,” she replied.
“Doesn’t smell like it.”
“Well, what is it they say? Garbage in, garbage out?” She chuckled.
“Yeah, go on. Laugh it up. I’ll get you back,” he answered. “You’ll see.”
A countdown on his visor started to tick down, signaling that the time for talking was over. A few meters into the stench practically knocked him over, as the breather mask did little to counteract the full effect of the odor, but he fought through it, determined to get inside to his objective.
The pipe ran a straight line into the facility’s sub-basement. Arsenal stopped when he got to a T-junction, then using his cufflink, decrypted the locking mechanism protocols to an overhead hatch and disabled the alarms. When he was satisfied, he spun the wheel—breaking the pressurized seal—pushed the metal door open and climbed out into a maintenance area.
He needed to get across the compound, but there was no way to walk there undetected. Even with most of its inhabitants gone, the Ceres station no doubt still had a contingent in place to oversee its shutdown. Arsenal couldn’t just stroll around willy-nilly. Neema’s plan had called for him to travel through the ductwork, as they interconnected across the facility, but it was time consuming and worse, inconvenient. Crawling around on his hands and knees through the dust, dirt and darkness, especially after his stint in the sewer pipe, was too much for him to bear. He was better than that.