by S. A. Tholin
Meeks waited for them at a pod containing a man. Early forties, well-built and tanned, but for a thin band of pale skin around his left ring-finger.
"Meet Captain Halland." She tapped the glass to bring up the display.
"I've got this," Joy said, in what was meant to be a confident voice, but only made Meeks laugh.
"Very well. Do try to be gentle this time - I've had rougher awakenings, but none that didn't involve copious amounts of alcohol."
Joy went through the process just like before, hit the last confirm and stood aside as the cryo pod's light changed from red to green -
- and back to red.
She pressed CONFIRM again, but nothing happened, and now CONFIRM was nowhere to be found and she was just mashing buttons, sweaty fingertips sliding on the glass.
"Joy?" Cassimer, concerned - and behind him, Meeks, muttering in mock-imitation: "I've got this. Says the girl who's not even got any trousers."
"Commander," she said, really meaning oh please help I don't want to kill this man, but it was too late. Inside the glass pod, Captain Halland's eyelids parted to reveal frozen eyes. His limbs jerked against their restraints, and his mouth opened and closed spasmodically.
"Stand aside." Cassimer slammed the butt of his rifle into the pod's door. Over and over, fragments of reinforced glass showering his face and shoulders, and she didn't know how to tell him that it didn't matter, that Captain Halland wasn't dying of a lack of oxygen but of a heart attack. He'd woken while his blood was still partially vitrified - one big clot spread throughout his every vein and artery - and nothing they could do would save him.
The pod's door burst and Cassimer hauled the captain out, tearing the restraints from their sockets. He laid the man on the floor and Joy knelt. Chest compressions on a heart thick with glassy blood. Mouth to mouth on lips that cracked like ice underneath hers.
Halland convulsed, grabbing blindly at her, and black blood flowed from his mouth, thick as magma.
The captain was dead, but gripped her arms so tightly that Cassimer had to pry the frozen fingers apart.
"Commander..." She wanted to turn to him and bury herself in his arms, but Meeks, watching with pursed lips, reminded her that she was Private Somerset, not just Joy. She was a soldier and failure and an idiot just like Duncan.
A soft tone rang through the speaker system overhead, and Cassimer's hand disappeared from her shoulder as he stood, weapon at the ready.
"Our deal was for the little sister, soldier." The voice was female and unfamiliar, but immediately identifiable. Skald was a good actor when he wanted to be, but some of his original self always seemed to creep in. A bitterness, like the taste of crushed juniper berries. "You broke our pact, and a man has paid for your treachery with his life."
"Our pact," Cassimer all but spat the word, "was broken the moment you locked us in here."
What's going on? The message appeared on Joy's HUD without any indication of its sender, but Meeks was staring at her, eyebrows arched. What the hell is this?
Get out of my head, Joy shot back.
"I said that I would give you the little sister. I never said I would let you leave."
"He is very pedantic about semantics," Joy said.
"Ah, and there she is. Have you tired of your aching bones yet? Can you taste how thick with filth the air is? Surrender, little sister, and I'll deliver you to immortality."
"No thanks," she said, thinking keep it light keep it light don't let this bastard get to you, but her tongue remembered the taste of him and her belly his weight. "I'm good."
"Yes, you are." Smugness oozed through the speakers. "And how. Would you like to know, soldier? How sweet she tastes, our Joy? How soft her lips were around me? How she moaned when I pushed inside?"
Cassimer's fingers tightened around the Morrigan. The sharp angles returned to his face, and Joy tapped his arm lightly, then shook her head.
Don't listen to him.
He nodded, but the angles were there to stay.
"Nothing to say, soldier?" There was a note of hunger in the voice.
"We've spoken enough, demon."
"Demon?" Meeks put her hands on her hips. "Respectfully, Commander, you need to fill me the hell in."
"Ah, little Liz Meeks. Although we both know that's not your real name, don't we?" The speakers crackled with laughter. "That was the first secret to slip. Lizette Meeks; Jana Atwell; April Merriweather. Identity upon identity, layered like petals around the truth of you."
"That's classified information," Meeks said. "Identify yourself."
"Captain Anna Pilgrim. Or perhaps I'm someone else?" The voice took on a sing-songy tone, light and brightly joyous. "Don't you recognise my voice, Meeksy? How many times did we butt heads over the Andromache's security specs? You always wanted more access and you always stole my yoghurt from the office fridge. Always such a bitch, Meeksy, but I told you that every time you slipped out of my quarters smelling of me. You're such a bitch, Meeksy, and that's why I love you."
"Ingrid -" Meeks frowned, fake lashes pressing into her cheeks.
"Oh, but you're a bigger bitch than I thought. Or should I say less of one? After all, that's why Stefan in Engineering likes you so much." Again the voice changed, deepening as heavily accented consonants clunked into one another. "Liz, she's not like the other women. She's as sweet as the roses on her skin. I imagine tracing their petals with my fingers. Maybe I'll pluck up the courage to kiss her on our next date."
The voice began to rasp, long trails of drawling vowels interlinking each word. "Though you weren't quite so shy with me, were you, Liz? They don't put any idiot in charge of security; I knew the only reason you paid me the slightest bit of attention was to get your sticky fingers into the ship's systems. Worth it, though, considering what else you did with those sticky fingers. Such fun we had, Liz! Besides, everyone knows top tier towermen don't bother with social engineering. I let you sneak a peek at the security protocols, Liz, because I figured if you could get that close, the real ghosts of Tower, the real scary bogeymen, they'd already have the data if they wanted it."
"Enough." Cassimer fired his gun twice, and the two nearest speakers went quiet. In the distance, the demon's voice droned on to a sleeping audience.
"What the hell was that?" Meeks looked genuinely shaken.
"The man in the sea cave," said Joy.
◆◆◆
"You might've mentioned that the Andromache was hijacked by demons," Meeks fumed.
"It wasn't relevant at the time," Cassimer said and gave Meeks a quick run-down of the situation. For most part, she asked all the questions Joy might've expected. Perhaps her priming gave the towerman no choice but trust a banneret commander's word, or perhaps Meeks had simply decided to go with the flow - but she did ask one rather odd question.
"What do they look like?"
Cassimer gave her a confused look before explaining that this demon, like all others, possessed human vessels.
Meeks should've had no reason to expect otherwise, so why ask? Unless Meeks knew something they didn't. Unless the Primaterre had cause to send a warship into unexplored space. The strange question could be a piece of a greater mystery, and Joy shared her thoughts with Cassimer via text.
Above our pay grade, was his reply, but a few seconds later, he said: "Niobe Station had a deep space observation array, didn't it?"
"You know about Niobe?" Meeks paused, then smiled. "Ah. Silly me. I really must do better."
"Niobe was a Primaterre military station," Cassimer explained to Joy, after a long look at Meeks. "It was destroyed in a RebEarth attack - over 30,000 personnel lost in a single blow. A tragedy, and a sacrifice that we commemorate every year. Except now I think Niobe was never destroyed at all, but remade and renamed Andromache."
"Don't sound so bitter, Commander. The men and women of Niobe deserve every ounce of that respect. Death is far from the greatest sacrifice one can make."
"Your sacrifice is tainted by deception."
"A necessary deception."
That silenced Cassimer, but Joy wasn't satisfied. "What about RebEarth? They're being blamed for something they didn't do - how is that right?"
Meeks blinked, looked at her for a few seconds, and laughed. "Are you serious?"
"She's new," Cassimer said. "RebEarth claimed responsibility, Joy. They took the blame upon themselves."
"And even if they hadn't, who gives a shit?" Meeks shook her head. "Anyway, what's the plan here, Commander? I assume you didn't come here without one."
"I've requested a blockade fleet. Our mission is to stop the Andromache from leaving the system before the fleet arrives."
"ETA?"
"Unconfirmed. You know the Andromache, Meeks. What's our best option?"
"Well," said Meeks, sucking her teeth. "Do either of you know anything about arc ships?"
"We have some experience," Cassimer said, half-smiling as Joy stifled a laugh.
"Okay." Meeks frowned. "The Andromache's mission doesn't allow for the time required for disassembly and repurposing, so instead of building the Cascade on site, it's already been constructed."
"There's a Cascade onboard the ship?"
"The entire core is a Cascade, enclosed by twelve smaller structures intended to uncouple once the ship reaches its destination. Scale technology, they call it; in essence, the Andromache isn't one ship, but a fleet of battle-ready frigates. The Andromache can't reach orbit, but with enough altitude, it's possible that the Dozen Daughters will be able to detach."
"A dozen Primaterre frigates in a demon's hands." No trace of Cassimer's smile remained. "That's a lot of firepower to be bringing into uninhabited space."
Meeks tutted, shaking her head. "Oh, Commander. Your attempts at fishing for information are even less subtle than that gun of yours."
"When I want to know something, I ask. Only reason I haven't is because I don't think you have the answers."
"An insult to goad me into spilling the beans?" Meeks clutched her chest in faux-hurt. "Keep trying, Commander - perhaps you'll crack me eventually."
"Focus, Meeks. How do we stop the Andromache?"
"Without a captain's codes, I've no way of shutting the ship down remotely. Our only options are to engage manual shutdown in the core, or retake the bridge."
"The bridge will be protected."
"So? I know your reputation. A few demons shouldn't be a problem. Just pretend you're back on the Hecate."
"More than a few." Joy quickly wedged herself between towerman and bristling commander. Questions asked and answered; she knew how many vessels had gone in the first wave and how many were still on Cato. "6,734. Regardless of reputation, one man can't stand against an army."
Meeks turned from chalk to snow. "If there's that many... what's stopping them from hunting us down right now?"
"Fear." Cassimer flicked his thumb across the Morrigan's grip. It spat an empty block on the floor. "And arrogance. It doesn't want to put its vessels at risk when it believes it has already won."
"But sooner or later, it will come for us."
"Yes." The Morrigan chirruped as Cassimer inserted a fresh block. "The core, Meeks - can you take us there?"
"I didn't let that creep Stefan take me ballroom dancing for nothing. And that's not a euphemism, by the way."
Meeks led them to a door at the bottom of the chamber, where the manual override of the lock would take a few minutes. Cassimer, too tense to stand around, elected to walk the perimeter.
"So, the man in the sea cave. I'd chalked that up to a weird cryostasis dream. You're telling me it was the demon?"
Mist drifted across the tiled floor, curling at the edges of the room. The walls glowed a paler gold, and in the light, Liz Meeks's chalk-pale skin glittered.
"In a sense." The cold bit too sharply for Joy to stand still. She paced on the spot, keeping her eyes on the upper gantries. "Do you know what a mycelia network is?"
Meeks shook her head begrudgingly, and Joy explained her theory. The lichen consisted of two organisms - a fungus, functioning as a data-sharing network and an algae providing data storage. Its purpose in possessing a human host was two-fold: a human had abilities that lichen did not ("like, you know, mobility"), and the human brain contained harvestable data.
"It reads and it writes, and once it's finished, everything you were has been uploaded to its network, while your body becomes a vessel for it. It keeps your memories, but it isn't you. It's this other thing..."
"The man in the sea cave." Meeks cleared her throat, one hand briefly touching her belly.
"Yes. The over-arching personality. The super-intelligence."
"An artificial intelligence?"
"Possibly, although that would suggest intelligent design."
"It hardly seems possible that such a complex organism could evolve naturally."
"Humans are just as complex. Do you believe that we were formed by the hand of some higher being?"
"Of course not. Belief without evidence is impure."
"It's called faith, Meeks."
Cassimer appeared on the level above, looking over the railing. Joy smiled and couldn't help but add: "And sometimes a little faith is all we need."
"A pair of trousers is what you need, Private." Meeks shrugged. "What do you make of this new enemy, Commander? Manufactured or organic?"
"Demonic," Cassimer said. No amount of explaining mycelia networks had changed his mind, and in the end, Joy had come to see his point. For all intents and purposes, it behaved as a demon would. It violated minds, stole souls and rode humans as vessels. It's evil, he'd said and she couldn't disagree. "An impurity to be purged."
Meeks laughed. "I do like a man who keeps things simple. Though..." She paused, eyeing Cassimer "...the feeling doesn't appear to be mutual."
"Irrelevant, Meeks." Cassimer descended into the mists and handed Meeks a rifle, scavenged from the dead. "Somerset, come over here. I need to check your bandage."
Except there was nothing wrong with her bandage. Nothing wrong with her at all.
"I thought you were sleeping," he said, feverish-hot fingertips securing an already secure bandage. "I didn't know that you were aware of what the demon was doing. I thought you were sleeping, but the entire time, that filth was inside your mind."
She nodded, wanting to tell him that it was okay, that none of it had been real - but the white lie stuck in her throat.
"I stood there talking to it. Talking to a demon about history and myself, and now it makes sense why it was smiling. Now it makes sense why it was laughing even as it bled." He audibly gritted his teeth, pulse leaping in his throat. She could see what the golden light had masked - the dark circles under his eyes, the pallor of his skin. Tired; so very tired, barely there at all. "All those years spent preparing myself, and when I finally face a demon, I shame my rank by falling into its trap. Shame myself by allowing it to hurt you."
"It's not your fault."
"No," he said, "but correcting it is my duty. I'm going to kill it, Joy."
"Good." How strange to say such a thing and for it to feel so right. "But you have to be here when it ends. You have to still be standing." She wanted to him to promise her, but knew that he would, and that his tired shoulders would carry the burden of that impossible promise.
"Commander." Meeks stood by the door, and though its panel glowed an obedient green, a frown tugged at her doll-like features. "Something's wrong."
Cassimer bridled with irritation, and Joy touched his arm gently. Meeks wasn't being vague on purpose, but because she knew of no other way of expressing what she felt - and what Joy also felt. A creeping chill on her skin, and the heavy sense of a belly full of sea water. It was all around, swelling like waves from the shadows.
Inside a cryo pod on the other side of the room, a sleeper opened his bulging eyes. Limbs struggled against straps, lichen drizzling down the man's face. The pod's door slid open, and its limp contents emptied onto the floor. Meeks checked for vital
s, but shook her head. "It's a warning - open the door and people will die."
"What do we do?" Joy asked.
Cassimer and Meeks shared a look.
"We keep going," Cassimer said. "No matter what, Joy."
◆◆◆
It'll stop killing them as soon as we're no longer there to see it. Cassimer's assurance had made sense. Once the demon saw that the threat had no impact, he would stop; it only made sense.
Except she should've known better. She'd shared a mindspace with the demon; she'd tasted his bitter and petty waters. The man in the sea cave was a wounded and possessive creature, to whom necessity was whatever it took for him to claw and scratch his way to a victory, however small. He relished cruelty as only a former victim could - revisiting upon others pain he had once suffered. A broken thing, that had healed all twisted. For Cassimer, who'd turned his pain into a need to protect and shield, such a mindset would be hard to understand, but she should've known better. She should've seen it coming.
As they hurried down winding corridors and raced through echoing halls, the demon played a symphony of pain over the speaker system. One by one, it dragged the Andromache's crew half-asleep from their cryo pods; some mumbling incoherent dream-chatter before they began to scream, and Joy could only hope that they died thinking it was a bad dream; a nightmare that would end the second their hearts stopped beating.
Some died quickly. The ones who didn't were curated picks, chosen with Liz Meeks in mind.
One man in particular lasted a very long time. His death began as a silence, interrupted by sharp intakes of breath, but ended in a low keening. Though he spoke no words, Meeks clearly knew who he was. When the keening ended, she stopped, pressing her palms and forehead against a wall. Sweat pasted strands of ruby hair to her face.
"I'm sorry, Meeks." Joy touched the woman's shoulder.
"I'm fine," Meeks said, pushing away from the wall.
But in spite of her perfect doll face, she wasn't - and neither was Cassimer. Jaw set, gaze distant - he had gone somewhere else, and as Meeks recovered, she joined him. It was as though the two of them now inhabited a different plane of existence.