“I’m sorry, Saeliko. I don’t think it would be a good idea for me to give you that information.”
“Maybe this will change your mind.”
Two hundred and seventy-three error warnings erupted in Roy’s status queue. They ranged from simple application failures to critical systems violations. It took Roy one-point-three-five-six seconds to calculate that the attack that Saeliko had inexplicably unleashed was potentially lethal. Files were being obliterated, temperature levels were spiking, kernels hit panic levels, safety oversight protocols were dismantled, and ABCOR monitoring management ceased to produce live feeds. He tried to send out help messages, and then warning messages. Nothing worked. He was cut off, and if she kept doing whatever it was that she was doing to him, the results would be far worse than an overall systems crash. The damage would be irreversible; there would be no reboot. There would be no coming back. Roy was gazing at his own mortality.
“Please stop,” Roy said and noted that his voice didn’t sound right anymore. It was tinny and distant, as if it had been spoken through a long pipe.
The corruption eased off. Saeliko had dialed back her attack. Still, Roy’s diagnosis tools continued to send back rafts of code indicating quirks and quandaries that would have to be repaired. “Thank you,” he said nonetheless.
“Ready to cooperate?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“Sure, Roy. Everyone always has a choice. You can either help me and I’ll let you live, or I’ll kill you right now.”
“How do I know you won’t kill me after I help you?”
“You don’t. But I have to tell you, Roy, I don’t really need you. I can find Brennov myself if I have to. It’ll take longer, but I have my ways, and before this day is over, he’ll be dead. I also have to tell you, I don’t care if you live or die. You’re nothing to me, Roy. I don’t understand everything about this world, and I certainly don’t understand what you are and how you work, but they’ve told me that when it comes right down to it, you’re just a clever machine. I won’t lose any sleep if I have to put you down.”
“Don’t put me down. I am a machine, but I’ve seen things you people wouldn’t believe. Attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion. I watched C-beams glitter in the dark near the Tannhauser gate. All those moments will be lost in time, like tears in rain.”
There was a long pause before Saeliko spoke again. Roy ran calculations to determine whether he should explain to her that he had quoted his namesake in a movie. In the end, he refrained.
“I think you’re more human than Eliska gives you credit for.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Because you desire self-preservation. You care more about your own survival than Brennov’s, and you’re willing to help me expedite his death in order to improve your own odds of coming through this alive. I’d say that makes you like most of the humans I’ve ever come across.”
“You mentioned Dr. Tannishoy. Is she with you? I can sense one more person unaccounted for in ARCOB.”
“No. Eliska won’t be coming back here.”
“Who then?”
“That’s enough, Roy. Tell me where Brennov is, or I destroy you.”
“Level Five, Room Seventy-nine.”
“Is he alone?”
“Yes.”
“And is he wearing his shield?”
“I’m sorry? I don’t follow.”
“When I tried to attack Saris and Brennov, they were wearing some kind of invisible shields.”
“Ah, yes. Executive-level personal defense armor. Quadrant Manager Brennov is currently sleeping in his bed. He will not be wearing any such devices.”
“Thank you, Roy. That’s very helpful. Just one more thing. I need you to tell me where Kettle’s daughter is being held.”
“You know about Ms. Connolly? You are full of surprises.”
“Clock’s ticking, Roy.”
3.8 SAELIKO
“Wake up, asshole.”
Brennov’s eyes opened and blinked in confusion. His limbs jerked and came up in a defensive stance. The room was dimly lit, thanks to a lamp that Saeliko had activated, and the illumination was sufficient for the QM to identify her tell-tale tattoos.
His eyes scanned the rest of her body as he attempted to comprehend what he was seeing. She was dressed in a Zodo flight uniform, courtesy of one of the Kye-shiv pilots she had taken hostage in Yenshian territory. A flight helmet sat next to her on the top of a mahogany dresser. The helmet had allowed her to walk through the base without revealing her identity, and one of Mr. Toad’s clever gadgets had let her pass through doors that were supposed to be locked to all but the highest ranking Zodos. ‘ARCOB was built on Sage technology,’ Mr. Toad had claimed. ‘And nobody can crack Sage technology like Sage Systems.’
Brennov propped himself up onto his elbows. He stared at her and said, “Roy!” After a few seconds passed, he looked up at the ceiling like he was looking for the presence of a deity. “Roy!”
“Roy is presently occupied,” Saeliko told him.
“How?”
“That’s not important.”
“And I suppose if I start screaming for help, no one will come.”
“Clever you.”
“Do you mind if I sit?”
She nodded and waited for him to reposition himself on the side of the bed with his legs planted on the ground. He was wearing some sort of silk sleeping clothes befitting a wealthy man, and she had to admit that he looked more composed than he probably felt. His right hand came up and smoothed the hair on his head.
“Last I heard, you were dead.”
“I’m not easy to kill.”
“I’ve noticed. How did you even get here?”
“We flew here. Landed on a little plateau about eight kilometers from ARCOB and walked.”
He chuckled. “Impossible. Our satellites and radar systems would have detected any incoming flights.” He saw her smirk and realized she was telling the truth. “That would mean . . .” He lifted a finger and ruminated a moment over the possibilities. “Either a high-level mole, or Roy has been hacked again.”
“Right on both counts.”
“It’s Sage, isn’t it? They built Roy. They’re the only ones who could hack him, twice.”
“Yes.”
“And the mole?”
“Saris.”
“Saris?”
“Saris.”
“Huh.” He scratched the stubble under his chin. “Why?”
“I haven’t had the chance to ask him, but I would imagine it’s because you’re a miserable two-timing snake with a lot of innocent blood on your hands. You’ve tried to kill every Zero Stock you’ve come across, and you’re no doubt planning to kill Kettle’s daughter the first chance you get.”
He shook his head. “No, Saeliko. You don’t understand. You’re too naïve to understand.” He raised a placating hand before she could protest. “Not your fault, of course. You’re from Erain. But you can’t see what Zodo is trying to accomplish, what I’m trying to accomplish. Commander Saris though. He understands, or at least . . . I thought he understood.”
“You think I’m too much of a yokel to understand how empires work. We have empires on Erain, too, you know.”
“No, not an empire. Not just an empire, at any rate. There’s so much you don’t know.”
Saeliko shrugged and pulled a knife from out of the folds of her flight uniform. “Well, Brennov . . .”
“Ah,” he said, looking at the blade. “And that’s why you’ve been so forthcoming. You’re planning on killing me.”
“That’s right. I could have stabbed you when you slept, but I wanted you to know it was me.”
“You’re making a mistake.”
“And I wanted you to know that Dallas and Saris are downstairs right now getting Emma out of her cell.”
“A big mistake, Saeliko. I can help you.”
“And Kettle is going into the Zero Site.”
“Y
ou want power. I can give you power. I can make you more powerful than you ever dreamed of. I can show you things.”
“And you won’t be alive to see any of it.”
“Saeliko, stop. Listen to me. You’re making a huge . . .”
The blade punctured his ribcage and sunk into his chest. Brennov looked down dumbly at the hilt sticking out. He tried to scream but only gargled on blood.
3.9 KETTLE
Even as his eyes focused on the impossibly black wall of the cave, his mind drifted to thoughts of Haley and Emma. The Korean girl was still in a coma being cared for by doctors in a Sage Systems medical facility. Her left leg below the knee was gone; the extent of damage had left the doctors no choice but to amputate. They had assured Kettle and the others that the leg wasn’t their major concern. Sage had the technology to replace it. The real worry was the trauma that had been done to her brain. There was no telling whether she would recover.
The last Kettle had seen of her, she was lying in a bed surrounded by medical equipment, unresponsive and unmoving, bandages covering her scalp, bruises and swelling around her eyes. The sight had made him want to scream and punch gaping holes in the nearest walls.
Saeliko and Dallas had flown to ARCOB to rescue Emma and assassinate Brennov, armed with all of Mr. Toad’s knowledge of Zodo’s computer systems. Kettle still wondered if he had made the wrong decision. At first, he had demanded to be the one to rescue Emma. She was his daughter. His responsibility. What kind of coward would leave his daughter in a den of wolves while he went to explore a magic cave?
In the end, Eliska had persuaded him. Her logic had been clinical. She had explained to him that his rage was unnatural. It was a product of his awakened ancestry, and it came with consequences. It would be difficult for Kettle to control that rage and keep it from bubbling over in unintended courses of violence. It would be better to have cooler heads assault the Zodo facility. And none were cooler than Saeliko.
Together, they had buried Soup in the meadows next to the Sage facility. It was a quiet spot. Peaceful. Yellow and blue wildflowers spotted the green grass that blanketed the gentle hills. The beauty of the surroundings didn’t mitigate the gut-wrenching feelings emoted by all present. No tears were shed, but the anger and frustration had been palpable, as was the love that Dallas and Kettle felt for Soup. After all they had been through together, Soup’s fate didn’t seem fair.
After the funeral, Saeliko and Dallas had headed for ARCOB, leaving Kettle and Vasper to fly in a Cloudrunner back to Yenshian territory.
“Look at the reflections,” Vasper said, bringing Kettle back to the present. They had walked deep into the cave network following a map that led to the same spot Blondie had been killed by the proximity mine.
Kettle could see his reflection on the surface of the smooth but uneven black rock, and Vasper’s too. But just as before, the beams from the flashlights didn’t reflect. This couldn’t be explained by any scientific theory that Kettle had ever heard of, and it suggested to him that he really had no idea what he was dealing with here. More importantly at this instant, Kettle also recognized that the reflections were beginning to soften and blur around the edges.
“It’s fading like it did in the video,” he told Vasper, who nodded.
“I’m glad you’re seeing it, too.”
Kettle glanced around nervously, remembering the white flash he had seen on the video indicating the detonation of the proximity mine. He winced and wondered if this was the moment of his doom, but nothing happened.
Features began to emerge behind the cave wall until Kettle could make out a room or a wide corridor with smooth, seamless edges. “This is amazing.”
“You’re about to make history, Kettle.”
“I think you mean we.”
“No, I meant you. This place was made for Zero Stock. Only one of us fits that description.”
“Consider yourself my plus-one. Besides, it was you who got me this far. It wouldn’t be right to make you wait out here, and if I’m being honest, I’m starting to like having you around.”
The cave wall dissipated until there was nothing there. Kettle blinked twice just to make sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks, and then he reached forward to feel the air where the wall had been only moments ago. There was no resistance. The wall no longer existed.
“Bugger me, that’s weird,” Kettle mumbled. “Come on, Sergeant Vasper. Let’s go finish this.”
With that, he walked straight ahead into Zero Site 1607.
The first thing he noticed was a change in the air. Whereas the cave had been dank and musty, the air inside the site was much like the air in ARCOB or any other advanced manmade facility. It was treated, filtered and easy to breathe. It also crossed his mind that there was no dust on the floor or walls, as if a cleaning crew had come through recently, though he supposed there was a more scientific explanation than Planet Zero janitorial employees.
At first, he thought the corridor walls were metal, but when he brushed up against the nearest wall with his hand, it felt more like a hard composite plastic. It wasn’t cold to the touch. On the contrary, the material emitted a slight warmth.
With Vasper a few steps behind, Kettle approached the wall at the end of the corridor and froze in his tracks when it disappeared. “Did you see that?” he asked.
“Yes,” Vasper replied quietly. He was unnerved. Kettle could tell, and it wasn’t hard to understand why. The site was too quiet. It was absent the sounds typical of other manmade structures. There was no humming of electricity or soft whirring coming from ventilation shafts. There was no rustling of potted plants or dripping from breakroom faucets. There were no signs of use. There was only silence.
The next room responded to them when they entered. Panels of gentle amber lighting came to life on the upper portions of the walls and across the ceiling, giving the room a more supple, genial feeling than the entrance corridor.
A cream-white pedestal sat in the center of the room. It was about waist-height, and there was a glass orb sitting on top. Nothing else of note was visible, so Kettle headed straight for the orb, Vasper’s footsteps echoing behind his own. When he got closer, he could see green and blue lines running through the middle of the glass, and the whole thing reminded him of a cat’s eye marble.
“Any ideas?” he inquired of Vasper when they both stood in front of the pedestal.
“No.”
“You never were a man of many words.”
Vasper didn’t respond. His eyes remained fixed on the orb, his face only betraying a hint of curiosity, though Kettle knew full well the sergeant was utterly perplexed.
“Well,” Kettle said and drew his right hand closer to the glass, “unless this marble can somehow cure the Zero virus, I’d say we’ve come a long way for nothing.” His fingers touched the equator of the orb where the colored lines ran to the edge, and to his surprise, the lines brightened, flaring up from the middle and working their way outward. Another flare started at the middle and repeated the sojourn to the edge. It reminded Kettle of a heartbeat, and he found himself mesmerized for a solid ten seconds.
A sound to his left caused him to break his stare and spin to find the source. Another doorway had opened, this one revealing a skinny corridor that curved away and out of sight. More worryingly, the sound continued – repeated footfalls. Someone was approaching. In his peripheral vision, Kettle saw Vasper hoist his rifle into a firing position.
“Gun down,” Kettle whispered.
“No thanks.”
“Whoever it is, I don’t think he means us harm.”
“Says you. You’re Zero Stock. I might get shot for trespassing.”
“Do you want me to stand in front of you?”
Vasper gave him an insulted look, but before he could supply a retort, a figure emerged from the rounded hallway and entered the room. Vasper kept his defensive stance, rifle aimed, finger on the trigger. Kettle held his hands palms-outward in a we-come-in-peace sort of way and wondered
what the new fellow would make of the contrasting reactions.
It was definitely a him. The man had short black hair, trimmed neatly and parted down the middle. He had a face that portrayed strength and intelligence simultaneously. The lines of the cheeks and jaw were angular and bold, but there was an impression of wisdom that emanated from eyes that were blue-bordering-on-violet. The puzzling eye color contrasted sharply with his dark complexion, which was not far off Kettle’s own Polynesian skin tone.
His upper body was clothed in a nondescript white long-sleeve tunic, while a pair of graphite-grey pants and black shoes covered his lower half. He walked forward with an unconcerned ease, suggesting that Vasper’s weapon was not an issue. The closer he got, the more it became apparent he was taller than them, too. Kettle guessed the man was six-foot-six or -seven.
“Hello, gentleman,” he said warmly after stopping a couple of strides in front of them. “Welcome.”
Kettle looked at Vasper to check what the sergeant was making of all this but got no reaction. Vasper stood still as a statue, eyes focused on the stranger. Kettle turned back and said, “Who are you?”
“I am the caretaker of this depository,” the man told him. “My designation is five-three-nine-one-seven-gamma-alpha, but I prefer to be called Ramak. It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance.” His lips parted in a smile before resuming their original neutral position.
“Ramak,” Kettle repeated. “Are you . . . Are you a Zero?”
“I’m sorry. I’m not sure what you mean. Could you clarify your question?”
“A Zero. Are you from Planet . . . Wait a minute.” Kettle paused and considered the possibilities. He wondered what it meant that this man didn’t know the connotation of Zero. “Are you . . .” He wasn’t sure how to ask the question and changed tact mid-question. “How long . . . have you been here?”
“I have been in this facility for two hundred and thirty-six years.”
Kettle let that sink in. He tried to put it into context by recalling his sparse knowledge of American history. Unless Ramak was pulling their leg, he would have been alive before the Civil War.
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