“Tiffany, give me your best conjecture on what we are seeing and what is happening,” Paul asked with urgency as he crawled along the duct.
The AI Tiffany responded. “Conjectures are very premature and subject to gross error. The people we have encountered, the uninfected ones, have knowledge of the Vanguard, habitats, and connections between same. They have some understanding of artificial intelligence systems, but do not hold them in high regard. They do not seem to have any understanding of fusion pack technology. The automacube observed was the most sophisticated mechanical yet seen. So far, their general technological level appears approximately fifty to seventy-five years behind ours. However there has only been a minimal amount of people observed to make that conjecture, and even fewer operational machines, so probability is low. What these people call the ‘outbreak’ appears to have been when the infection started. Probably consistent with the Baldwin report. The victims of the infection are called the Roe. Origin of that name is unknown. The uninfected people observed show an obsessive-compulsive and nearly paranoid fear of the infectious agent. They flippantly rejected your suggestion the infection could be cured, this suggests a widespread fatalistic mentality and outlook toward the infectious agent. The political and social struct…”
“Ferrous oxide is known as rust!” a hideous voice screamed from up ahead in the duct system. This was followed by a groan of pain and two quick reports from weapon’s fire. The sounds rang in Gretchen’s and Paul’s ears and echoed throughout the duct.
More weapons fire happened.
“Cuddles was a gray squirrel!” A deeper voice cut through the reverberating echoes of the weapon’s fire. This was followed by a scream. Then the flickering and tumbling of a beam of light in the duct, and the sound of tearing metal. It was all ahead of where Gretchen and Paul knelt.
Gretchen adjusted the beam of light on the fusion pack to its highest setting, but all she could see ahead was flickering lights and dust in the beam of light.
“Get back!” Brinley commanded. Her voice was steady but urgent. “A nest of the Roe! Hurry, hurry, hurry!”
“Ferrous oxide is known as rust,” the hideously high-pitched voice screamed again.
Three more reports went off a quick succession as Brinley aimed her pistol into the dusty gloom of the air duct. Gretchen and Paul backed up as quickly as they could, but the confined space made turning difficult. Paul kicked the grille off and reentered the room. Gretchen was right behind him and she kept shining the fusion pack light into the duct hoping to see Brinley and Jared.
Brinley emerged from the duct, her shirt was ripped and her arm was bleeding. In her other hand was the pistol which she again fired into the duct at what was following her. There were groans and sounds of falling in the duct. Gretchen helped Brinley get to her feet while Paul picked up the grille.
“Do not touch me. I have been bitten. I am infected,” Brinley said with resignation as she climbed to her feet. Gretchen ignored her and grasping her injured arm assisted her.
“I am infected!” Brinley yelled and tried to pull away. Gretchen clenched on despite Brinley’s struggling.
“The stars do not shine at night,” said a Roe as it emerged from the duct system.
Paul slammed the steel grille down onto its head before it could get all the way out. Its legs and arms flailed for a moment before it lay still. Blood and brain tissue were oozing from the massive injury Paul had inflicted on it. “Where is Jared?”
“The Roe grabbed him, ripped up his face. One was tearing his mouth open when I shot it.” Brinley reported. “There must be six or eight of them in there, but Jared is dead. He not only shot some Roe, but he shot himself.”
Paul stuffed the dead body into the ventilation duct and reset the grille where it had been originally. “Weld it shut!” Paul yelled. “I will hold it in place.”
More Roe voices were yelling nonsense in the ventilation duct but they seemed to be having trouble getting past the dead body or bodies. Gretchen pulled the torch from Brinley’s belt and rushed to Paul’s side. She looked it over quickly, realized its operation, and turned on a welding mode. A small bead at the edge of the steel melted quickly and fused the grille to the frame.
“I do not think that will hold very long,” Gretchen stated. “Paul, jack in the fusion pack and get that other door open.”
Paul rushed past Brinley and connected in the fusion pack to the far wall. The blue illumination of the doorway activated, as did the controls.
“Let me go first. I am dead anyway. If there are more Roe outside I will take out as many as possible. You do know this is hopeless,” Brinley said.
A Roe had its fingers through the grille of the ventilation duct and was screaming at them. Its orange eyes wild with insanity and violence. Its fingers bleeding from the shaking of the grille. Its long fingernails more claw-like than human.
Gretchen burned off the Roe’s fingers before she shut down the torch. The Roe did not comprehend its lost digits, and just kept hammering at the grille, with its stumpy palms.
Paul activated the controls so the door slid open. Brinley leaped through, her weapon held in her uninjured hand.
Paul looked out and he was stunned by the sight that awaited them in the corridor.
21 trust or hopeless?
Brinley stood in the corridor just outside the door. One arm hung useless, blood flowing from numerous bites and scrapes and dripping down her hand. Her other hand gripped the pistol and aimed into the corridor. Paul followed her while Gretchen disconnected the fusion pack from the wall and then stepped into the corridor as well. She tried not to look at the grisly scene as she activated the door again and shut it.
“I doubt they can open this door from inside. There is no power flowing through this wall, except what I put into it from the fusion pack,” Gretchen stated.
“The Roe will find a way around. They can use simple tools. Clubs, knives, spears, things like that, but I have never heard of them using any of the ship’s controls or technology.” Brinley said he stepped ahead of them. “But the Roe still get everywhere in these corridors. They are relentless. And we are doomed.”
‘There is always hope,” Paul said as he worked without success to stop the bleeding from Brinley’s mangled arm.
There were dead and smashed rats all over the corridor. There was also the nearly picked clean skeleton of Irene. Her bones were scattered in three different clumps, skull and neck in one place, torso and arms in another, legs and pelvis in a third. They knew it was Irene because her equipment, belt, handgun, and shredded clothing were scattered among the parts of her body. There was nothing living anywhere in sight.
“Brinley, let me bind up your arm injuries. For now we can stop the bleeding,” Paul said. He reached out and pulled loose some shredded clothing from the floor. He tried to get the least blood soaked ones, but they were few.
“Idiot, I am infected. Do you know nothing of quarantine procedures?” Brinley asked.
“Neither one of us are going to let you bleed to death. Now stand still,” Gretchen commanded. She reached out and tore the remains of the sleeve away from Brinley’s injuries. Paul helped Gretchen to wrap the makeshift bandages around Brinley’s arm. The bleeding was slowed by not stopped.
“You two really do not fear the outbreak, do you?” Brinley asked incredulously.
Paul looked her in the eyes and said as sternly as possible, “I told Irene we could cure this infection. Gretchen and I are immune. We can cure you as well, if we can get to our equipment. Will you trust me?”
Brinley looked at the dead body of Irene. She then looked at Paul and Gretchen, trying to read their faces. She looked back again at the body and bones of Irene. “The words you are saying are insane. No one is immune. There is no cure. But you do not act like insane people; you seem to genuinely believe what you say. I do not know how long I will still be rational, everyone I have ever known who got infected either died in the attack, like Jared, or committed suicide sho
rtly after being infected. But I know everyone who is infected will become a Roe or die. Those are the choices. Nothing else. Nothing.”
“Brinley, we will take you to our equipment. Our AI can help us, but we must work together. This infection will be cured, trust me.” Paul gave her a hug. She stiffened up and pulled back a bit.
Brinley looked at Gretchen and Paul again. Her lower lip quivering a bit as she said, “I do not want to die. But to become a Roe is far worse, that must not happen.”
“So we head back to that frozen place. Find our equipment. Get you healed. And finish our mission,” Gretchen stated. She reached down to the floor and picked up Irene’s fallen pistol. Its slide was locked back.
“It is out of ammunition. Check Irene’s belt for additional magazines,” Brinley instructed.
Gretchen pulled the bloody belt off of the remains of the torso and wiped it as best she could on the floor with the rags of what were once Irene’s clothing. She also gathered the other supplies that Irene had carried, including the blue folded jumpsuit. She ignored the blood and flesh still stuck into the belt and strapped it around herself and adjusted it to fit.
Brinley, despite the difficulty of having only one of her arms working, showed them the basic operation of the pistols. “Paul, you take my pistol and my three extra magazines. Each magazine holds 50 rounds.” She looked intentionally at Gretchen and Paul. “Save one for me, and for yourself. If the infection overcomes me, and it will, promise me you will take me down before I become a Roe.”
Paul reluctantly took the weapon and the magazines. “It will not come to that. We will get you cured.”
Brinley snorted but did not argue.
Paul and Gretchen both activated the lights at the end of the pistols. In addition to the fusion pack light, these lights brightly illuminated the corridor door in front of them.
“Tiffany? We need to get back to our equipment is quickly as possible. Can you tell me the status on the med kit? Please do so on area audio, rather than by private channel.” Paul instructed.
The communication link broadcast Tiffany’s voice so that all three could hear her. “Paul, I can give you directional indications on where your equipment is located by linking to the other com unit. However, you will need to find specific ways through the hallways and passageways as I do not have any floor plans or maps of the full Vanguard. I have been mapping your route so far, but back tracking that way will not be a direct route to the equipment. I suggest an alternative route which will involve taking the first left that you can find. Currently your route is roughly perpendicular to the location of your equipment.”
Brinley responded, “We are in the main corridor which will have few doorways or cross passages. However there are companionways which run one level up from this corridor. There should be an access hatchway about every hundred meters, or so. If we can get into one of the companionways, that should lead us back toward the end of E Habitat. The access code for those hatchways is 9811, or if it is a color pad, blue green white white.”
Paul and Gretchen both repeated those code sequences.
They hustled along, avoiding the dead rats and the dismembered body of the Roe that that had been shot. The rats had also devoured that Roe’s body and it was only scattered bones. Glancing ahead, around the corner, the way appeared clear.
“The rats will be satisfied for a while. Their stomachs full. But as we saw in that room, there are other infected animals in these passageways between the habitats. You two really do not understand any of this do?” Brinley said as they quickly walked along looking for the access hatchway. Sweat was beginning to bead on Brinley’s forehead and run down her cheeks.
“We are from Earth. We really know nothing much about the Vanguard. But we must get you to our equipment,” Gretchen stated. “You can be healed.”
Paul saw the access hatchway. It was a square in the ceiling which had once had stenciled words on it. The words were flaked off so badly as to be unreadable. “I think this is what we are looking for. But I do not see any controls or a way to open it. Brinley where do we enter those codes you spoke about?”
Brinley just stared at the ceiling. Her eyes were sort of glazed over; the bandage on her arm was soaked with blood.
“Brinley? How do we open the access hatchway?” Paul asked.
“Uh? What? Is it summer in here now?” Brinley stammered. Her speech slurred a bit and her eyes were hazy. She then vigorously shook her head side to side. “Sorry. On the right-hand side of the access hatchway will be a small panel. Pushing on that should release a drop-down control board which will have numbers or colors on a keypad.”
“Paul? I can perceive the panel Brinley is speaking about,” the AI Tiffany said. “It will be difficult with your human perceptions to see it, but if one of you is lifted up there I will direct you to how to open it.”
“Gretchen you are taller than I am, but I weigh more. Let me lift you up.” Paul holstered his pistol and interlaced his fingers making a step for Gretchen. “You can use your long arms to reach that panel.”
“You two really do listen….um… to that AI of yours. Is it trustworthy? Did you… programming… program it yourself?” Brinley stuttered.
“We trust Tiffany,” Paul answered.
Paul hoisted Gretchen so she could reach the ceiling. Tiffany directed her how to open the panel and indeed a small control board did descend. She punched in the numbers 9811 and there was a hissing sound from around the access hatchway. It opened up. A permalloy ladder descended rung by rung with loud clanging noises. The area above was brightly lit.
“That is very loud,” Brinley stated with worry in her voice. “The Roe are drawn to noise. Drawn to noise… noise.” She grabbed onto the ladder with her functioning arm.
Gretchen, the pistol in her hand, stepped in front of her and ascended the ladder. Paul assisted Brinley to climb the ladder. Brinley was sweaty and hot to the touch. Her brown hair matted to her head. When they got to the top of ladder they could see that they were in one of the companion ways. It was brightly lit from illumination sources in the ceiling. The walls were off-white color and the permalloy floor was a dark brown. The air was stuffy.
“We do not want anything following us,” Gretchen said as she opened the panel on the floor near where the ladder opening was located. She punched in the access code, the ladder retracted upward, and the hatchway sealed itself.
“Paul and Gretchen, this companionway is leading roughly in the proper direction toward your equipment,” the AI Tiffany stated. “Visual inspection of Brinley indicates the infection is spreading at a faster rate than I anticipated. The historical records show that typical rabies does not spread this quickly. This mutant strain must have an accelerated pathology.”
“Do not let me become a Roe. I already… feel quite hot… and dizzy,” Brinley said. Her teeth chattered as she spoke.
They moved along as rapidly as they could, but Brinley was weakening quickly. They passed door after door, but the majority of those doors were closed. Tiffany guided them when they came to intersections, but they did not have to open any of the doors they encountered. The few doors off the main hallways that were open showed some kind of areas with chairs and cubicles which were in disarray.
“Tiffany? Which direction shall we turn now?” Paul asked when they came to a large circular room with multiple hallways entering it. High over head was a vaulted ceiling, with only about a third of the lights working. Most of the hallways leading into the circular room were dark and foreboding. One hallway had a barrier set up across it that had clearly been built in haste. Across that barrier was hand-painted the single word ‘beware’ in white lettering. Paul wondered if it was a warning to stay away from a danger down that hall, or was set by people down that hall trying to keep others away from them.
“The third hallway to your left appears to run in the closest direction toward our goal of getting back to your equipment. However, the darkness of that hallway inhibits knowing wheth
er it is patent to our destination,”
Tiffany replied.
“Yes, that hallway is clear and open….. it… will lead….to E Habitat… We better hurry, I am really growing weaker… and confused,” Brinley huffed. “The habitat is not too far… but there… security doors…”
A frightening voice came echoing into the circular room, “The moss flies to the bobcat!” The words drowned out Brinley’s comments.
A Roe was rushing down out of one of the darkened hallways toward them. This Roe had been male, and while it still had the glowing orange eyes, its clothing was not as tattered as the previous ones they had encountered.
Paul briefly looked at the pistol in his hand, then he knelt down and aimed at the approaching threat. He squeezed the trigger on the pistol and it fired. The report startled him, as did the pistol jerking in his hand from the recoil. The shot missed. The Roe screamed in rage and yelled out again, “The moss flies to the bobcat!”
The Colony Ship Vanguard: The entire eight book series in one bundle Page 20