This Virtual Night

by C. S. Friedman

  The hut she was in was small, and apparently designed by someone who lacked any skill in hut-making. The walls were constructed of half-trimmed tree branches bound together with mismatched ropes and ties: braided strips of plastic, twisted vines, strips of cloth, even a few thin chains. And of course, the highlight of the entire design was its lack of roof. The furniture was mismatched as well, chairs and table and a narrow chest of drawers made from different synthetic materials, each piece looking like it had been salvaged from a different low-rent office. The cot she was lying on was a study in salvage art, the frame of a rolling cart topped with a webwork of mismatched plastic strips. PROPERTY OF LAB 5 was printed on one of them, KEEP OUT on another. As an outrider, she recognized the significance of the haphazard construction. The owners did not intend to stay in this place. It was important for them to believe they would not have to stay here. This ramshackle place was a cry of defiance.

  But where was here?

  She reached into her pocket to check for her weapons, only to discover that she had no pockets. Or coat, for that matter. Someone must have removed her outer clothing while she was unconscious, along with every item she’d been carrying. Not good. The only things she still had on were her boots, her jumpsuit, her headset—they would have needed a passkey to release the maglocks on that—and her rings. She was surprised about the rings, but evidently whoever had stripped her of all her other gear didn’t realize what they were. And the heels of her boots didn’t look like they’d been opened, which meant the tools in there were safe as well. After a moment’s consideration, she decided to leave them hidden for now, in case someone was watching.

  One leg of her jumpsuit had been rolled up, revealing a clearflesh dressing where the arrow had struck her. The area under it was sore but didn’t have the telltale tenderness of an infection. She rolled down the jumpsuit leg and swung her feet over the side of the makeshift cot. Standing up turned out to be harder than expected. For a moment the hut swam around her, and she had to grab the nearest wall for support while she waited for her vision to settle. Finally, when she thought she could move without throwing up, she began to inch her way to the only visible exit, a narrow opening with a tarp hung across it. Doorway to the unknown. The thought brought a rush of excitement. Novelty, as always, was a heady elixir.

  She pushed the makeshift curtain aside.

  The hut was in a small clearing, surrounded by a forest of sorts. Tall blue trees were spaced around the periphery with unnatural regularity, patches of shrubbery evenly spaced between them. Not the sort of thing one expected to find on a space station. There was a person present, sitting in a plastic office chair, watching her as she stepped down from the threshold: the man who had saved her. Now that her vision was clear she could see that his clawed headset was shaped to fit over two bony crests arching back over his skull from brow to nape. His clothing had probably been black once, but time and wear had reduced his jumpsuit and flight jacket to a mottled gray. The soles of his heavily scuffed boots were thick enough to contain mag plates, and his wide belt had utility rings hanging from it, both standard accessories in a no-G environment. Most ships these days had some kind of grav net, so the fact that he was outfitted to travel without one was . . . interesting.

  Her possessions were laid out on a small table beside him. Coat, shock rod, and all the basic supplies from her pockets, neatly arranged for inspection. Her ID wallet lay open, next to a flask of amber-colored fluid and a rack of empty test tubes. The shock gun, however, was gone.

  “Up at last,” he observed gruffly.

  She rubbed her forehead, trying to massage away the last of the ache. “Where am I?”

  “Biome Five. My personal haven, such as it is. You’re goddamn lucky to be alive, girl.” He nodded toward her coat. “That’s grade-A armor you had on. Without it . . .” He shook his head and made a tsk-tsk noise. She started toward the table, but he raised a hand to warn her back. “Not yet . . . let’s see, what’s your name?” He peered at her ID. “Ru? Bounty hunter, fourth class. Okay, let’s have a little chat first, bounty hunter fourth class Ru. I go by Ivar. And you’re welcome for saving your life, by the way.”

  She stared at him for a moment, briefly contemplating which she’d rather do more: grab for her weapons or smack him in his arrogant face. Neither was likely to improve the situation, so she just muttered, “Thank you.”

  He took up one of the test tubes, poured some of the amber liquid into it, and offered it to her. After a moment she took it and sniffed it. Alcohol of some type. Strong. Wary of being drugged, she pretend-sipped it as he returned to his office chair. He waved her toward a fallen tree trunk. “Please, hunter Ru. Sit.”

  She would have preferred to stand, but her legs still felt weak, so she lowered herself down onto the rough bark, trying to look stronger than she felt. “Are we still on Shenshido?”

  “Everyone’s still on Shenshido. For two years now. That’s kind of the point.” He poured himself a vial of the yellow stuff.

  “What happened here?”

  “Let’s just say if there is a God, he fucked this place over good.” He swallowed his test tube’s contents in a single long gulp and winced.

  “And the atheist explanation?”

  “Idiots upstairs were playing with something they shouldn’t have, and it bit them on the ass. At least that’s the story I was given. I’m not a scientist myself, so this is all second hand.” He poured himself another drink as he talked. “People in one of the main labs went crazy. Got violent. The few that weren’t affected fled from the crazy ones. Some fled the station, but they didn’t make it far. Or maybe they did make it, but never told anyone in the outside world what was going on here.” He paused. “Or maybe no one in the outside world gives a fuck what happens here. Communications are out, so once the last ships left, everyone else here was fucked.”

  The communications equipment in the engineering center looked functional enough when I was there, she thought. Granted, she hadn’t tried to contact any other stations, but still. Something in his story wasn’t adding up.

  “You said a ship would be coming for you,” he said. There was an edge to his tone now, cold and hungry. “That seems a strange arrangement. I’d think you’d want it docked here, ready to go.”

  “The docking ring’s a mess,” she said. That part was certainly true. She didn’t trust him enough to tell him the rest of it—that she was here alone and her ship was moored to the station, unguarded. Never mind that if he got to it he wouldn’t be able to get through her security; it was what he might do to get to it that worried her. “My pilot didn’t trust the mooring options, so he offered to keep her in a holding pattern until I found our target.”

  “And did you?”

  “Not yet.” She shrugged. “Some leads pan out, some don’t.”

  “He’s dangerous, this guy?”

  “Killed a few members of his family. Bloody mess.” She looked at the test tube in her hand. What the hell. She really could use a drink. The alcohol tasted acidic, and it burned her throat going down though it felt good spreading through her veins. She closed her eyes for a moment, savoring the sensation.

  “You can call the ship back when you’re ready to leave? Or what? Is there some kind of schedule you set up?”

  Too curious, she thought. The echo of desperation in his voice wasn’t an issue—if he’d really been stuck on this crazy station for two years, what else would one expect?—but there was something else there, a darkness behind the words, that made her doubly wary. You’d hijack my ship if you could, I’ll bet. Fly off and leave me here, stranded with the others. It was just a feeling, but years of outriding had taught her to trust her feelings. “We made arrangements,” she hedged.

  “And I suppose when you get home you’ll tell the Guild what happened here? So they can send out a rescue team?”

  Was that what she would do? Tridac owned the pla
ce and should be in charge of rescuing anyone stranded here. But would they do that? Or would they find it cheaper and easier to just cleanse the place, making the whole problem go away? If the scientists here had been working on any kind of secret project, the latter seemed more likely. If she told the Guild first, instead, Shenshido’s situation would at least become part of the public record. Tridac would no longer be able to act in the shadows, and fear of negative publicity might save some lives. “That seems the best way to go.”

  He leaned forward intently. “And what if someone wanted to get off the station before they arrived?”

  Her eyes narrowed. “Meaning what?”

  “Meaning, I’m sure there’s room on your ship for at least one other person. Meaning, if you take me with you when you leave, I’ll make it worth your while. Cash, contraband, labor debt. Name your poison.”

  “You know that I work for law enforcement,” she said quietly.

  “I know that you’re working for them now. One job.” He poured himself another drink. “You’re a mercenary, same as me. And don’t worry, there’s no price on my head. Check it out, if you want. I’ll wait.” He leaned back in his chair again, drinking from his test tube as he gave her a moment to access the innernet. Was that a bluff? An independent station was unlikely to have up-to-date records from Gueran law enforcement, so even if she couldn’t find anything in its files that mentioned Ivar, that didn’t mean anything. She bluffed back, staring into space for a moment as if she were communing with the station’s data system; let him worry about what she might discover.

  “Whatever they’re paying you for this job,” he said finally, interrupting her fake reverie, “I’ll pay you ten times that much to take me with you to wherever you’re going, and drop me off first thing.”

  “And the other people here?”

  He shrugged. “A few more days of waiting won’t kill them.”

  So much for group loyalty. What’s your connection to them? She was burning with questions, but sensed that if she interrogated him too directly he might shut down. What are you so afraid of, that you need to get away before the rescue team arrives? His offer of labor debt in payment—slaves—suggested some pretty dark dealings, and blatant interrogation might rub him the wrong way. And she needed his help. The station map didn’t distinguish between the various sections of the lower levels, so without someone’s help she wasn’t going to be able to get back to her ship. Hell, she couldn’t even find a flight of stairs, other than by walking around randomly and searching.

  “Let me think about it,” she said carefully.

  He didn’t look pleased by her response, nor did he look surprised. A man who traded in contraband and slaves was probably used to people not trusting him. “Well. I suppose with that said, it’s time you met the others.”

  About time. “Can I get my gear back first?”

  He considered for a moment, then nodded toward the table. She put her coat back on and stowed all her accessories where they belonged, piece by piece, while he watched.

  “My gun?” she asked.

  “Consider it the cost of being rescued.”

  She opened her mouth to protest . . . but hell, he had saved her life. Fair was fair.

  He led her to a path that cut through the forest. Most of the trees and brush were evenly spaced—obviously planted—but now and then she saw dense thickets of brush flanking the path. Probably blinds. “You expecting an attack?” she asked.

  He shrugged. “Crazies haven’t come down here yet. If they do, they’ll get more than they bargained for.”

  Soon human voices were audible, and the path disgorged them into an open field, maybe half a mile across. In its center was a stockade of rough-hewn timber, easily twice Ru’s height, surrounded by neatly ordered gardens. There were several people working those gardens, dressed in lab uniforms with short-sleeved shirts and drawstring pants in a dull blue-gray. They looked up when they heard people approaching, and tensed at the sight of Ru. How long had it been since they had last seen a stranger? The nearest ones backed away nervously as Ivar led her toward the compound’s gate. God alone knew what they thought she was capable of.

  Inside the compound, small huts were huddled together in groups, narrow paths wending between them. A few larger shelters stood apart from the others, and Ivar directed her toward one of those. The whole place looked primitive, but that didn’t surprise her. She’d seen enough worlds in the course of her outrider duties to know that even the most advanced colony could devolve to a primitive state, if circumstances warranted. And here they clearly had.

  Upstairs there’s a station full of clean modern rooms, she thought. The inner ring is probably full of vacant apartments. Why did they come down here, instead of claiming some of that space?

  The house Ivar led her to had a real wooden door, clearly a luxury here. He knocked on it.

  “Come in,” a woman’s voice said from within.

  The interior lacked the rummage-sale quality of Ivar’s abode, though the roof was the same open framework. A table, several chairs, a bed, and a chest had been hewn from natural wood, and there were even a few decorative pieces on the walls. On a table Ru saw pieces of pottery, rustic in design, and the small rug on the floor looked handcrafted. If the message of Ivar’s hut had been Fuck it, I’m not staying here! the message of this one was, Well, if I’m stuck here, I’m going to make the best of it.

  A tall red-headed woman stood as they entered. Like everyone else here she was dressed in lab clothes, but she’d torn the sleeves off to reveal smoothly muscled arms with colorful tattoos. Thorned roses on one arm, a dragon on the other.

  Ivar nodded respectfully to her. “This is Ru Gaya, the one we found upstairs.” He looked at Ru. “This is Zevi, chief of the Seventh Collective.”

  Ru bowed her head slightly, as he had done. “Honored.”

  There was a moment of silence as Zevi looked her over. Her gaze rested briefly on the places on Ru’s body where weapons might be hidden. “Ivar vouches for you,” she said at last.

  “I’m grateful for that.”

  “He says you’re an independent. Bounty hunter.”

  Ru nodded. “That’s right.”

  “So you have a ship.”

  “It wasn’t able to dock.” Maybe someday she would trust someone here enough to tell them the truth. “It’ll be coming back for me later.”

  Zevi’s eyes narrowed. “You understand our situation here?”

  “Enough to know you need evacuation. My ship’s too small to handle all of you. But I promise, once I return to Harmony I’ll get a rescue team out here.”

  “We’ve waited a long time for help.”

  “Two fucking years,” Ivar muttered.

  The angle of light in the room shifted suddenly. It took Ru a moment to realize that the solar lamps overhead must have changed their settings, imitating the motion of a sun across the faux sky. When ‘night’ fell, would it get dark?

  “But I’m being a poor host,” Zevi said. She gestured toward the table and chairs. “Please, sit. Have something to eat. It’s not great food, but it’ll fill the stomach.”

  God alone knew how long it had been since Ru last ate. She sat down gratefully and tore a piece of bread from a grayish loaf. It was dry and bland, but her stomach welcomed it. Zevi poured her a cup of what turned out to be totally tasteless water. Probably distilled. Seeing the question in her eyes, Zevi said, “We tap into irrigation for it, so it has to be filtered. Not exactly vintage wine. Biome Four supplied us with grain, and we have more leafy plants than we know what to do with, but not much else.”

  “No protein?” Ru asked.

  “Not down here,” Ivar said. “Not unless we want to eat each other.”

  Zevi scowled at him. “There were insects, but once they died that resource was gone. Everything down here was bred for experiments, and carefull
y controlled; no animal or insect species was allowed to reproduce on its own. So they’re all gone now, save for the plants you see. We have to pollinate the crops ourselves.”

  “Aren’t there emergency supplies?” Ru asked. “A station like this should store enough food to support its population for a long time.”

  “Yeah. But that’s all upstairs, and the crazies are guarding them. Can’t hardly blame ’em. Resources are finite, and there’s been no hope of relief.” She looked pointedly at Ru. “Until now.”

  “How many people on the station?” Ru asked.

  “There were nearly a thousand when all this began. Now we estimate two dozen of the crazies left upstairs. Maybe fewer than that. Down here . . .” A muscle along her jaw tightened. “Eighteen. We’re down to eighteen station personnel left, plus this one came from the outside.” She nodded toward Ivar.

  “It’s been a long war,” he said quietly.

  So many deaths. Each person here must have done their share of killing. “How did you come to this point, exactly? Ivar didn’t give me many details.”

  Zevi tore off a piece of bread for herself. “The trouble started in one of the lab sections. Nothing big at first. Reports misplaced. Data misread. Just a few more errors than usual; nothing to set off any alarms. Then some people started acting erratically. Hot-tempered. Disoriented. And then more people. By the time the folks in charge realized something was seriously wrong, nearly everyone in that particular section had been affected. Soon it started affecting them in body, as well. Flesh wasted away, skin turned the color of rot, sometimes it fell away altogether. They looked horrific.”

  Ivar nodded grimly. “Like fucking zombies.”

  “We couldn’t call for help right away. We had to lock down the station and confirm it wasn’t a contagious condition first. That’s standard corporate protocol. Meanwhile, the affected ones lost any semblance of sanity. We locked them up for their own safety, but they managed to break out. Started attacking people. Labs were trashed. Equipment was gutted. By the time it was confirmed that their condition wasn’t contagious, so we could call for outside help, our communications equipment had failed. Maintenance couldn’t figure out why. Some of the healthy workers tried to flee the station at that point, but there weren’t enough ships for everyone. The ones who left promised to send transports back for the rest of us, but we never heard from them again.”