A Memory in the Black (The New Aeneid Cycle)

by Michael G. Munz

Michael yelled in frustration, redoubled his efforts and got a foot onto one of the turret's flailing stabilizers. He kicked it down and managed to crawl atop the turret, unsure if his suit were still intact for the effort. He was struggling to hold the turret still and looking for some way past the thing's armor when the chamber door clamped shut on his ankle and bent it outward. He cursed in pain, reflexively shifting positions and losing his brief advantage. He could only cling to the swiveling cannon and try to hold it off-target as the turret itself tried to crawl away on its stabilizer arms. Pain battered his ankle. He strained to fight the door's grip and maintain his own on the turret, sure he would lose it at any second.

  And then a flash of sparks across the room caught his eye as Gideon tore the top off of the first turret with both hands. He cast it aside and brought his arm cannon to bear directly into the turret's interior. Silent light flashed from the barrel: Gideon firing into the thing's innards. With its main cannon gone and its insides shattered, the turret ceased to move.

  Yet Michael's own was far from defeated. Its muzzle flashed again to send bullets into the door that only narrowly missed him.

  "Help me!"

  Michael's shout was unneeded; Gideon was already moving. He dashed across the chamber, ducked under the turret's line of fire, and seized it by the top of its cannon to wrench it off as he'd done the first. Michael had just enough time to pull himself back from the broken menace before Gideon fired down into it as well.

  It was over quickly. Gideon stood up before noticing Michael's foot. Without a word, he gripped the door with both hands and pulled, giving Michael enough time to free himself before he let the door seal completely. Even then, Michael didn't stop to get up or even catch his breath until casting about for any further threats.

  All seemed, for the moment, to be calm.

  Gideon, apparently no worse for wear from the shot to his leg, offered Michael a hand to pull him to his feet. "Easier the second time."

  "Looked like it." Michael took the help up and then checked himself over. "I think I'm okay. See anything wrong with the suit?"

  Gideon shook his head. "Help me get the core while we have a chance."

  "It'll be faster if I do it. Watch my back?"

  "Very well."

  Without anything actively trying to kill them, getting the memory core disengaged was simple. Lights and screens went dark across the room's panels as Michael shut down the power feed. In the dim glow of emergency lightning, Michael slid the infected core—a cylindrical module about half the length of his arm—from the socket. Gideon moved as if to reach for it before the gesture turned to a mere pointing.

  "What is in there?"

  Michael realized he was cornered in the alcove. "I don't know. I'm not really sure what they did. I just know it's dangerous."

  "And Marquand wants it." Gideon stared back at him. The seconds inched by before he looked back at the broken turret. "My thanks for occupying that."

  Michael moved swiftly around him into the center of the room, trying not to seem too anxious about it. He wasn't sure how well he succeeded. Artificial or not, something in Gideon's face worried him. There was no time to address it. Felix was still in trouble, the Omicron staff needed to be evacuated, and the AoA's plan was incomplete.

  Just a little longer, Marc thought for the tenth time. He and Marette stood in Life Support waiting for their moment to act and trying their best to stall the remaining ESA staff pacing about. Among the most anxious was a doctor whose name Marc forgot. His heel tapped the floor until Marc wanted to scream.

  "This isn't going to work!" the doctor burst. "Only one man against those turrets? We have two other suits!"

  Already wearing the second suit Marc had brought, Marette stared him down with eyes shot with fatigue. "Two other suits that we can use if this fails, Doctor. All three together? One EMP burst could destroy them all. We cannot risk that either."

  The doctor leaped to his feet. "The turrets are out of EMP! They have to be!"

  "Doctor Spidel! We do not know that. Sit down. I understand that we are all under a great stress, but you will follow—"

  "Stress?" He laughed. "We're going to die when those batteries run out, Chief."

  A radio burst from Marc's suit cut off Marette's response. "I've—disconnected the core," came Michael's voice.

  "He sounds hurt," someone said before being shushed. Marc tensed, waiting.

  "I'm hit. It's bad. Suit's leaking fast. . . I don't think I'm going to make it."

  Marc responded as fast as he could. "Hold tight, we're on our way! Is it clear?" He might've said it too fast; it took a moment for Michael to continue.

  "It's clear. Hurry. I— Wait! Someone's outside. No suit—I think—they're carrying. . . something. Running for. . . Paragon entrance. . ." On the other end, Michael gasped for breath against obvious wounds. "It's not— They didn't come from the complex. Command was right—third party—we can't. . ."

  Michael's voice trailed off. The channel went dead.

  Marc lifted the replacement core and gave Marette as urgent of a look as he could manage. "He doesn't have much time."

  "If another group has arrived at Omicron, none of us has much time." She turned toward the others. "We go to replace the core. When you get my signal, be ready."

  "If there's someone else out there—"

  "Without the computers we are in no condition! Be ready!" With that, they sealed their helmets and moved out.

  Gideon caught Michael's few keystrokes on his suit comms. "What was that?"

  "Just letting Marc know we did it." Michael hoped the pre-recorded message would do the trick; acting wasn't something with which he had much experience. "Let's go."

  Gideon blocked his way to the ceiling hatch. "Wait."

  "Marc ought to be along soon with some Omicron crew, and he's the only one ESA thinks is authorized to be here."

  Gideon reached for the infected memory core where Michael had left it for Marc atop a console. "If I return with nothing. . ."

  Crap.

  Michael set his own hand on the core. "You said you were okay with that. You don't owe Marquand anything after what they tried to do to you."

  "If they did what they did to me, what will they do to Ondrea if I return with nothing?"

  "But this—"

  "What will they do to your friends if they learn Ondrea sent them?"

  It was enough to make him hesitate. But no, there wasn't time! "We can protect them."

  Gideon shook his head. "You're not with Marquand. You can't protect her."

  Michael tightened his hand on the core. "Marc wasn't lying about what's in this. It's an experiment gone wrong. The most destructive computer virus ever created. Hell, it just tried to kill us! Who knows what it'll do if you link up to it? If you try to take it back to Marquand, give it them? You really want them to have this?"

  Gideon's eyes narrowed. "The two of you aren't just here to give Caitlin and her boyfriend a ride, are you?"

  He'd wondered if Gideon might ask that. "We're here to make sure this sort of thing doesn't get out. Marquand didn't tell you what they were having you steal, did they?"

  "What are you saying? What's here?"

  Michael hoped that was a no. They had only minutes before the others showed up. It would just be Marc and Marette if things went as planned, but he didn't want to bet on it.

  "Like I said, I don't know for sure. We know some things: weapons, technology like what caused the core corruption that we're not smart enough to use wisely. When I met you, you were trying to stop someone from flooding the streets with guns; this is the same thing, only here we can stop it from even being introduced at all."

  "ESA will still have it."

  "One thing at a time! Marc's handling that side."

  "How?"

  "I can't tell you that!" It came out harsher than he wanted. "Look, we can—"

  "No! Marquand has us trapped! Me, Ondrea! I can protect myself, but her? I need to give them somethin
g. I'll give Marquand the core and then sabotage it once they—"

  "I can't let you do that."

  "Yet I doubt you could stop me."

  Michael lowered his hand from the core to the thigh pouch of his suit where he kept the stunner. "Maybe I can't. But do you know what 'grey goo' is?"

  Gideon blinked. "A theory. Self-replicating nanobots."

  "Whose sole purpose is to break down everything in sight to build more of themselves. Plants. Animals. Machines. People. Slow to start, but once they make enough of themselves they move frighteningly fast."

  "You're saying such a thing exists?"

  "It's part of what they're working on here. No sane person would try to design it on Earth, but in space, where it can't do as much damage if there's a mistake? Is it worth your sister's life if an entire city's turned into goo? And that's if we're lucky! I don't know how that stuff works exactly, but if it got out of hand who's to say it would ever stop? They weaponize it and suddenly nuclear war looks like a paradise!"

  Gideon hesitated. "Yet all I have is your word."

  "Yeah."

  "How do I know this isn't more manipulation?"

  "I—" Only a short time left. If Marc and Marette got there, maybe the three of them could overpower Gideon long enough to use the stunner, but that was a temporary solution at best, and not one he was comfortable with. Another option—likely a better one—crept into his mind, though it made him no less uncomfortable. He brought out the stunner. "I gather you don't remember the night we met."

  "What?"

  "When Diomedes shot you. You were arguing with him about whether or not to destroy the weapons we'd captured. He pretended to agree with you, then shot you in the back when you turned." Michael swallowed. "It made me sick, tore me up just to watch it. I drew on him myself after that."

  Gideon's grip seemed to tighten on the core.

  "This is a stunner your sister gave us. It's how we put you under so Felix could fix your memory and bring you back. Basically it's the only hope I've got of overpowering you." He held it out to Gideon. "Here. Take it." The other man reached for it halfway and then hesitated. "It's not a trick."

  Gideon snatched it, moving as fast as Diomedes might have, and then scrutinized it without hardly taking his eyes off Michael. "A stunner."

  "Yeah. What Diomedes did to you? I'm giving you this so you know I won't do the same thing. I'm trusting you, and I need you to trust me. I'm completely helpless now. I need you to trust me that this is the right thing to do."

  Gideon put the stunner away. "I should destroy it."

  "Maybe. If you want. I only care that you leave the core here." Michael's mind raced, searching for more to add. "You say you need to return with something. We can give you that. It won't be the core, but it ought to be enough to show them you did all you could."

  Gideon took his hand off the core. "Like what?"

  Michael told him. A minute later they'd gone out the ceiling hatch and left the core behind.

  CHAPTER 50

  "You know we don't really have a back-up plan if this doesn't work."

  "That makes it one more plan than I have lived with in the past few days. Pull!" Marette released the door to Primary Control for Marc to slide it open. The wreckage of the two turrets lay strewn on the floor among the longer-dead bodies of the Control crew. Marette's gasp barely carried over the radio.

  Marc's stomach turned. "Man," he whispered. Though it looked safe, he did not want to enter that room. The time on his visor read five sixteen a.m. Zero wireless networks in the area. Room temperature—inside his cooled suit pocket where he was keeping his hip rig, anyway—was sixty-one point nine degrees.

  Marette moved past him as if unaffected and pointed to a console. "There's the core. This Gideon is effective."

  Marc stayed where he was.

  "Marc! Speed is a factor."

  He shook himself out of the fog and looked past the bodies to where she'd pointed. The old core lay atop the console. "Okay," he managed. "If you can get the new core in, I'll install the leech."

  "Oui. And for the sake of safety. . ." Marette opened a panel and reached deep within. She gave a fierce yank, then another, and another, before she appeared satisfied. "The link to Paragon is now doubly severed. How much time?"

  "Um, not long, I think. Where's, ah, where's the auxiliary access?"

  "Over there. Just focus."

  After a breath, Marc rushed through the carnage, knelt at the console, and opened up an access panel to get at the circuitry beneath. Fagles's leech was designed to splice in from an exterior point such as the base's transmitter, but connecting it directly was more suited to what they were about to do. After double-checking the last-minute alterations he'd made since arriving at the base, Marc set the leech along one of the windows facing Earth, plugged in the cables, and set to work on the connection.

  Across the chamber, Marette was getting the backup core installed and rebooting the system. If this worked, he wouldn't see her again for a while. Their reunion so far was too brief for his tastes, and the circumstances nightmarish. Then again, what the hell did he expect?

  "Focus," he repeated to himself.

  A burst of light sent him near jumping out of his suit before he realized it was just the room's lighting returning to life. "Wish you'd have warned me about that," he said.

  "Apologies. The main computer is rebooting. How is your leech?"

  "Nearly done. You said it'd take about ten to get the atmosphere back to breathable?"

  "Oui, ten minutes."

  He nodded. "Ought to give me just enough time. Let 'em know." Marc set to work on braiding the leech's software into the Omicron system, focusing on his visor's readouts and trying to ignore the death around him. The faster he got it done, the faster he could get the hell out of the room. It didn't have to be elegant; it didn't even have to be particularly hidden anymore. It just had to work. He barely heard Marette radio the others in Life Support to tell them the system was back.

  Marette moved to prep the shuttle as Marc continued his set-up. "Nearly ready," she said. "You can do what is needed from here?"

  "Yeah. Or on the rover, once the first part's done. Just make sure they get the terminal in Life Support connected to the main system or this won't be nearly as effective."

  "You underestimate the intimidation of the French language." She flashed a smirk. "But I will make certain."

  Though her smirk faded quickly, it was enough to let Marc ignore the danger for a moment. Would the AoA assign him here after this was all over? "Come here a sec? This'll go faster with your help." He pointed to the leech.

  They worked out the final details. Marc borrowed Marette's superior knowledge of Omicron to speed the process. It was nearly time.

  "I think I've got it from here." He gave her a hesitant pat on the leg that she might not have even felt through her suit. "Glad you're okay."

  That only got a nod and a smile from her before she stood up. "And you. Luck to both of us."

  "I—yeah." Time and place, Marc. He turned back to the leech and she moved toward the door. When he glanced back at her, she was already watching him.

  "I shall keep a private channel open. In case there is a problem. Inform me immediately should anything go wrong."

  "Yeah."

  And with that, she was gone.

  Felix wasn't getting better. Caitlin was holding his head in her lap when Michael and Gideon got back to the rover. Their safe return gave her a small measure of comfort. They could leave that much sooner.

  "How is he?" Michael asked.

  She shook her head. "The same, I fear. Where's Marc?"

  "He'll be coming soon. Not long, then we'll get out of here."

  "And he'll have the recording?" Gideon asked. Caitlin wasn't sure what he was talking about, but found she didn't much care and just let them talk.

  "I told him to bring it."

  "I didn't hear you."

  "Different channel." Michael said. He left
Gideon to come and kneel by her and Felix. "Gideon took out the turrets. Marc's getting the computer back up so the shuttle can leave. We owe him, we'll make sure he gets better."

  Caitlin wasn't sure what else they could do at this point but get Felix home. "How soon before Marc returns?"

  "Not long."

  Frustrated with her impotence, she nearly stood to go prepare the rover to leave before realizing she didn't quite know how to do so. "Michael, start the rover. Make sure we're ready to go as soon as Marc gets here."

  The younger man hesitated. "We should probably keep—"

  "Just do it. Please."

  Marette returned to Life Support alone. Despite her report of the death of Michael "Rogers" and the evidence of a third party active at Omicron, with the computers under control once more, the faces of those previously trapped in Life Support were brighter than she had seen them in days.

  "So what now?"

  Marette hardened herself for the response. "Now, we regain control of Omicron. ESA will lift the quarantine in time, but only if we can assure them it is safe. There are to be zero transmissions made without my authority. Primary Control is open to vacuum so we shall make this our auxiliary control room. You have reconnected the terminal here to the main computer?"

  "Yes, ma'am," Hladky answered. "We still have a backup console isolated if we need to do what we did before."

  "Knock on wood," Levy whispered.

  Marette permitted herself a smile. "Good. The evacuation shuttle is now on stand-by should we need it. For the moment we shall examine the status of the complex from here, then perform a more thorough walkthrough of the non-vacuumed areas when that is complete."

  The group sprung to action, getting back cameras and calling up schematics. "Be alert for any evidence of the newcomer. We believe he has entered Paragon."

  "Begging your pardon, Chief, but if someone's still running around out there, shouldn't someone take a suit and go back to control with Sebring?"

  "Non. Control is secured but damaged. We shall not put our only two suits in the same place."

  "Those two lads say just what this 'third party' is here for?"