This Virtual Night

by C. S. Friedman

  They had put Micah near the back of the line, supposedly to keep him out of the fighting, but not in the last position. Was that to protect him from a possible rear assault, or because they didn’t trust him? Micah found it hard to believe that anyone would try to attack them in a cramped space like this, but humans in extreme circumstances sometimes did irrational things. He was glad to have a few people behind him.

  They came to an opening large enough for several people to fit into, a makeshift room where several people broke off from the group.

  Micah’s heartbeat quickened. They must be approaching the place the exos intended to raid, and were preparing for battle. He felt a tremor of fear at the thought, but also a sense of excitement. Who had ever imagined he would be able to witness something like this firsthand, instead of just imagining it from his work console? There was part of him that wanted to witness a real battle, he was discovering—learn what it looked like, sounded like, smelled like. And that part disturbed him.

  People are going to die today, he reminded himself. For real.

  There were more of the rooms now, and people remained behind in each. Finally Micah was ushered into a staging space with four other people, three men and one woman, and told to wait. They were the last group to be positioned. Armageddon was on the horizon.

  Minutes passed with agonizing slowness. The only sound was the hum of the station’s environmental systems. Micah turned to the woman next to him. “How much longer, do you think?”

  The woman looked at Micah. Dark, nameless emotions stirred in the depths of her eyes, along with one that he recognized: hate.

  “However long it takes them to get here,” she whispered.

  * * *

  The narrow corridors of level B required Ru’s company to string out single file, a human serpent whose tail was not visible from its head. Whenever they passed the door to a room the serpent would pause, and Vestus would do a quick sweep of the interior with an infrared detector. That was to find any crazies who might be lying in wait, ready to fall upon the party’s flank. Now and then his device detected a minor anomaly, and he had to search out the source. When it proved to be harmless he set the orange warning light on his device back to green, and held the device aloft so that everyone could see it. Or at least the people who were close by that spot could see it. The tail of the serpent had to go on faith.

  Soon they neared the part of the station where their target was located, within a small complex that had once been contracted to Apollo Industries. Apparently Apollo hadn’t trusted Tridac to provide for everyone in an emergency and had established its own store of supplies, hidden away behind a bank of offices. The crazies apparently hadn’t discovered it yet, which meant it might still have food and valuable equipment in it.

  Might.

  The line kept moving slowly, bios holding their weapons tightly as they scanned the walls, floor, ceiling for threats. If the enemy was going to ambush them, it would likely be here, close to their target. One time Vestus’s detector flashed orange when a door opened, and Ru found herself holding her breath. But he scanned the room and seemed satisfied. “All good,” he said, holding his device aloft for everyone to see.

  It was still orange.

  The line started to move again. Confused, Ru backed up to the wall, letting the others pass. Something was still in that room, producing heat. Why wasn’t he trying to identify it? He had held up the device as if it would reassure people, when the orange warning light was still blinking. Why had they all accepted that gesture without protest? It made no sense.

  Ivar fell into position beside her. Of course. If she wandered into the fires of Hell, Ivar would be by her side. “Problem?” he asked.

  The last person in line was passing them by. “Something’s in there,” she murmured.

  “Light was green. That means it’s clear.”

  She looked at him sharply. “It was still orange.”

  “I saw it turn green—”

  “I saw it too,” she said testily. “I know what orange looks like. And it was still blinking. That means there’s a heat source somewhere in that room that Vestus didn’t find. I don’t know why everyone left, but I want to see for myself.” I’m not crazy! she thought defiantly. But an inner voice whispered: Maybe I am. Or maybe everyone in this whole fucking place is crazy, except me.

  “It’s dangerous to be alone on this level,” he reminded her.

  “I’m not alone.” She smiled. “I’ve got you.”

  The line had passed them, and the curving corridor would soon take the entire serpent out of their sightline. She headed across the hall quickly, weapon drawn, confident Ivar would follow. As she triggered the door she raised the bow-gun that Zevi had given her, bracing herself for whatever might be inside. She wished she had her own pistol instead.

  Beyond the opening was an office that looked like it had been abandoned in the middle of moving. Plastic cartons were strewn all over the place, most of them empty, a few half-filled with innocuous office supplies. Ru walked around the room, inspecting it inch by inch, but saw nothing suspicious. Certainly nothing to explain the heat trace Vestus had detected. Ivar was working the far side of the room. She glanced his way and saw a faint vertical line on the wall just ahead of him. “What is that?”

  He followed her gaze. “What?”

  “That line.” She pointed. “Running up the wall.”

  “What line?” He peered at the wall, then back at her. “I don’t see anything.”

  “Right there. Next to where the bookcase was pulled forward. Hairline crack, perfectly straight. What is it?”

  He looked at the wall again, then reached out a hand to feel its surface. He ran his hand over the exact spot where she had seen the line, back and forth, testing it. “Nothing.” There was irritation in his voice. “Maybe it was a trick of the light. Look, there’s nothing here. Can we rejoin the others now?”

  “It’s there,” she muttered. Ivar saw the orange indicator, but told me it was green. Now he says there’s nothing on the wall, when clearly there is. Why would he lie to me? What’s he hiding? She shook her head, frustrated by her own inability to decipher the situation. Was this what happened to the people here? Everything just stopped making sense? If so, it’s no wonder people went crazy.

  Suddenly there was a noise from outside the room: heavy impact, as if a large item had fallen. Ru froze, then moved to one side of the open doorway; Ivar silently took up station at the other. There they stood, backs to the wall, weapons at the ready, waiting for trouble to reveal itself.

  Seconds passed.

  More seconds.

  Silence.

  Finally Ivar eased his head around the edge of the doorway to take a look outside. After a moment he signaled that all was clear, and the two of them moved back out into the corridor. There was nothing there to explain the mysterious noise, and no telling what direction it had come from. “We need to catch up to the others,” Ivar said. She nodded, and they both set off at a swift lope down the hallway. Their layered armor rattled with every step, but there was no helping that. Ru pulled her shock rod from her belt, extended it to full length, and activated its head. She couldn’t swing it freely with Ivar right next to her, but she wanted it in hand, ready to go, in case the gun-bow failed to do its job.

  There were double doors at the end of the corridor, with a solar disk emblazoned on them and APOLLO INDUSTRIES inscribed overhead. As they parted, the lights beyond them came on, revealing a large reception chamber with bronze and gold seating areas on both sides. At the far end of the room, behind a long curved counter, a floor-to-ceiling mural depicted the god Apollo in a fiery chariot. There was a decorative archway flanked by golden columns off to one side, like the entrance to an ancient temple. According to her station map, that would give them access to Apollo’s inner sanctum, where the legendary supply cache was located. That was probably w
here the others had gone. She nodded in that direction, and the two of them started forward.

  And they were halfway to the arch when the attack came. People rushed out from the archway ahead, as well as from the doorway they’d just left behind: silent and swift, and armed like Zevi’s people. Ru looked around for cover—anything!—but the counter was too far away, and both exits were blocked. “Fuck!” Ivar swore, as he fired at the one of the attackers. Ru turned to confront the ones coming up from behind. (Where the hell had they been hiding? How had Vestus failed to detect them?) Something struck her in the side, hard enough to nearly knock her off her feet, and though her safeskin coat kept it from piercing through, it should have dissipated the force better than that. As she had feared, the damn thing was failing. God alone knew if it would even last through this fight.

  There were three coming up from behind her, two men and a woman, all Terran. The one in front was carrying what looked like a charge weapon, and as he brought it up to take aim Ru fired a bolt at his face. It missed its target and struck him on the shoulder instead, but the attack was enough to skew his aim, buying her a precious second. Ru cast her makeshift weapon aside and rushed at him before he had time to react, shoving his gun barrel upward with one hand while she swung her shock rod low with the other. Down, and then up again between his legs, hard. She could see surprise in his eyes as its charged head hit him right behind his groin guard—and then blazing pain. His shot went wild as blue-white sparks exploded from his groin, and as she took a step back he howled in pain, doubling over his agony. One down.

  But the other two were closing in on her, and they were positioned effectively enough that there was no way to block them both. Adrenaline flowed through her veins, scarlet wellseeker warnings running down the left side of her visual field like blood. A plasteel sword edged in shards of metal came swinging at her face; she moved inside the blow, too close for the blade to strike, and body-slammed the wielder. She’d hoped to knock the attacker off her feet, but the blow only sent the woman staggering back a short distance. Then something sharp stabbed Ru in the back, almost breaking through her safeskin. She whipped around to face the last attacker, but he was too close, and she couldn’t use the shock rod effectively. She swung it down toward his head anyway, hoping to draw a response. Sure enough, he raised up one arm to block it, and in the instant when his attention was focused upward she clenched her other hand into a fist and drove it into his face. She triggered her taze rings just before contact, and as they impacted his flesh a crackling network of blue-white lightning exploded across his cheek. With a cry he dropped his weapon and fell back, hands over his face. The smell of charred flesh filled the air.

  Now, for one precious moment, no one was attacking her. She dared a quick look at Ivar and saw that he was on his knees, clutching his bleeding stomach with one hand as he raised his gun with the other. There were far more people attacking him than had gone after her, and she saw a blade-studded mace smashed brutally into his arm, ripping through clothing and flesh and splattering blood across the floor. His gun went flying, landing well out of reach as he doubled over in pain.

  He was going to die, she realized. There was nothing she could do to stop it. Though she owed him no particular loyalty, her inability to help him was maddening. But the moment he went down this tsunami of violence would all be focused on her, and she had to get away before that happened.

  Her original attackers were between her and the sun-doors, so there was no fleeing back the way she’d come. At the far end of the room the columned archway gaped, the only entrance to Apollo’s inner complex. Once she passed through it there would be no way out, save through this choke point. All they would have to do was leave a guard in this chamber and she would be trapped—

  Stop thinking, she told herself. Just run!

  She bolted to one side, which seemed to take her attackers by surprise; maybe they had expected her to try to force her way through their blockade. The one with the sword swung at her, but too late; its owner cursed as it passed through the space her head had just occupied. As she twisted out of reach of her attackers, two of the ones fighting Ivar saw her in motion and started after her. But they were seconds too late to cut her off. She dodged the closest one by inches and ducked under the swing of another, racing toward the archway. If she could just get through that, into the narrow corridor beyond, these bastards would be forced to face her one-on-one, and at least they’d lose the advantage of numbers. That might give her a fighting chance.

  Some kind of projectile struck her in the back of her neck, hard, just beneath the edge of her collar. An inch higher and it might have been a fatal blow. Then she was through the archway, running breathlessly down a narrow corridor. It curved to the left up ahead, which meant that if she could get beyond that point she might be able to escape these bastards’ line of sight, and then—what? Where was there to go? She knew from the map there was no salvation to be had in this place. She could hear them right behind her, footsteps pounding. Closer and closer. When it sounded like they were almost on her she turned back suddenly and dropped to one knee, shock rod braced forward like a spear. Her motion took the first man by surprise, and before he could stop himself, he slammed chest-first into her weapon. His plasteel breastplate conducted the electrical discharge perfectly. As he screamed and fell she climbed to her feet again and resumed running, praying that his writhing body would be enough of an obstacle to slow down anyone coming up behind him.

  At the first intersection she skidded, trying to make the turn too quickly, and slammed into the far wall, hard. But she managed to stay on her feet, and a moment later she was out of her attackers’ sightline. Virtually invisible, but only for a few seconds. She looked around desperately for somewhere to hide, but the doors on both sides of the hall were unmarked, identical. She had no time to consult her map to see where each one led, but sprinted toward the second one—they would expect her to go for the first—and was relieved to see the doors part as she approached. As soon as she was inside she lunged for the control panel and struck the emergency lock with her palm, praying that the mechanism wouldn’t require some kind of special ID. Voices were audible in the hallway now, and they were louder and clearer with each passing moment—

  The panels of the door slid closed.

  She stood still—so still!—not wanting to risk any motion that might be heard. The sounds from the corridor were muffled, but she could tell that her pursuers were searching the passage she had just left. Had they seen the door closing? She held her breath as she heard footsteps approaching. If they got close to the door and it didn’t open automatically, they’d know she must be there, keeping it shut. The pounding of her heart was so loud in her ears it nearly drowned out their voices.

  Then they were moving away from her door, and a moment later the voices were swallowed by silence. They must have gone into one of the first rooms to search for her, she realized. Her gambit had worked.

  She reached for the wall as she finally exhaled, using it to steady herself as she bent forward, gasping for breath. The door was locked now, so even if they came back to it they’d need time to break through, but she dared not waste a second. She expanded the map in her field of vision so she could see what exits were available, and chose one that led in the opposite direction from her pursuers. That door also had a lock, and as she sealed it behind her she felt the first glimmer of hope. God alone knew how she was going to get off this fucking station in one piece, but for the moment she was safe enough.

  Using the map as a guide, trying to put as many twists and turns as possible between her and her attackers, she wandered deeper and deeper into the labyrinthine complex. Sometimes when she crossed a hallway she could hear noises in the distance—voices shouting, weapons clashing, cries of rage and pain. Zevi’s people must have engaged the enemy nearby. Her heart sank, knowing how trapped they were in this place.

  She was exhausted from running, but
she didn’t dare stop. If her attackers had heat detectors, like Vestus did, they’d eventually find her. She had to keep moving, had to come up with a creative way to escape this part of the station, or perhaps some kind of weapon or device to help her get past those guarding the exits. But the rooms she passed through held only mundane supplies, and when she pulled the cover off an air vent to see if she could climb into the duct system, she found that it was too narrow and flimsy to be of any use.

  Suddenly she realized there was no more sound, even in the hallway. The fighting she’d heard earlier must have concluded, but the total lack of sound was disconcerting. Maybe they fled the area, she told herself, seeking an explanation that would allow her to believe some of Zevi’s people had survived.

  Then she found the bodies.

  They were sprawled across the hallway where they’d fought their last battle, the floor beneath them slick with blood, the walls spattered scarlet. A dozen of Zevi’s people at least, and an equal number of strangers. All human. No mutants. No zombies. The faces of the bios were hidden behind their dust masks and goggles, but the faces of the others were plainly visible, and human. Reddened eyes stared blindly into space, thin rivulets of blood running down from the corners of their eyes, mouths, nostrils. Bright red. These people hadn’t died from sword wounds, and she doubted any poison could have struck them down all at once like that.

  Unless it was airborne.

  She triggered her headlamp, shining the beam over the bodies. Red dust swirled thickly in the beam. Clearly artificial. Her skin was starting to itch now; was that real, or imagined? Air quality might get bad, Ivar had said. But going back the way she had come was even more dangerous, so she stumbled over the bodies, anxious to get out of the poison cloud as quickly as possible. She didn’t see Zevi among the fallen, but she wasn’t checking every face. She hoped the woman had gotten safely away.