He picked up a chair from the table and threw it through the window. Glass smashed and rained down onto the street below.
‘Now jump,’ the voice said.
Chris continued to inflate as he stepped up onto the ledge of the window.
He wanted to scream, but he couldn’t. He looked out over the city. The artificial beach to the right. The city sprawling out before him. The oval MagLev track that disappeared into the back of the ship. And fires. Several fires burned across the city now.
Then he saw the others. Other men stood on rooftops and window ledges, inflated and ready to jump. He wasn’t the only person being controlled by the voice. Not the only person to be visited by the woman with the vagina dentata. Every one of those men standing on the precipice were vessels for the gift. A man on a roof below him looked up and smiled at Chris as he stepped off the ledge. Fear gripped Chris’s mind when he realized that he had just seen a glimpse into his own future. Still the voice refused to allow him to scream.
Chris jumped out of the broken window, arms open wide and a look of terror plastered on his face. Wind rushed past as he plummeted toward the street below. He exploded in a puff of black spores. His skin popped like a balloon, leaving only his skeleton, coated in black spore-spawning growths to smash into the pavement below.
All across the city, black skeletons rained down into the streets as spores dispersed across the city, riding the wind.
Chapter Eleven
Over the next three days, the balance of power aboard the Metropolis Seven shifted. The infected grew in numbers so rapidly that it was no longer safe on the streets. Somehow the infection had become airborne. The MetroCorp Security Force was reduced to nothing as they fell to the infected one by one. They were trained to deal with pirates, not infectious diseases. The spores manifested the gift in everyone they touched.
Ross Fiamingo ordered the remaining MetroCorp Security Officers into more dangerous incursions against the beast that grew in the belly of the ship. It was no longer separate minds or bodies. Hundreds of passengers found their way down into those tunnels to join with the hive mind. Each one gave their intelligence and knowledge of the ship to the greater mind. In one of the last vidstreams Ross saw, he caught a glimpse of it. It was an endless mass of knitted flesh that undulated with the inhalations of hundreds of pairs of lungs. Any mouth that remained on the outside its vast body spoke in unison with hundreds of voices.
The hive mind uttered one simple sentence before the vidstream was cut short.
‘Take us home,’ it said.
Something inside Ross’s mind broke. He had witnessed the impossible. He approached Captain Hane and commanded him to take the ship back to the nearest gateway. They could deliver the organism to the Alliance for study.
Captain Hane refused. Ross threatened to take control of the ship by force. It was an idle threat, but Captain Hane chose to treat it very seriously. He confined Ross to his quarters. Ross attempted to send a message to his father. He begged for rescue. The message appeared to be sent, but Ross received no response.
There was nothing to do but wait.
Chapter Twelve
Ross sat in his secure apartment and tried to remain calm. Everything had gone to hell, and there wasn’t a damn thing he could do about it. The sound of sirens from the street didn’t reach his ears, but the flashing lights and burning fires below could not be ignored.
Captain Hane had completely lost his mind. The comm channels with the Metropolis Corporation were cut, and Hane was in control of the Metropolis Seven. Armed guards stood outside the bridge, ready to cut down any unauthorized personnel who attempted to enter.
Captain Hane didn’t have the necessary foresight to see the potential applications of this organism. If Ross could just get the Metropolis Seven back to Alliance space, they could quarantine the ship, evacuate the uninfected, and then study this organism. After that would come fame, fortune, and opportunity. His job with the Metropolis Corporation was a good deal. Ross knew he could stay there for the rest of his life if he wanted. He would make millions of credits and be able to live a life of luxury, but there was one thing he would never be able to do.
He would never be able to make his father proud.
Admiral Fiamingo was a military man who saw his son’s work as nothing more than a stepping stone on the path to greater achievements. This was a man who was responsible for saving planets and overthrowing warlords. The idea that his son ran a cruise ship, even one the size of a city, was a source of constant embarrassment. He was off saving the galaxy, while his son was making sure fat, rich humans were comfortable.
Ross’s position on the Metropolis Seven was supposed to prove his ability to command under pressure, but all he’d managed was the professional equivalent of being sent to his room. Captain Hane assured him that the armed guards outside his room were there for his protection, but he knew better. Captain Hane wanted him out of the way.
Ross slumped down on his couch and pulled out his comm unit. He opened a channel to Hurk.
"Hurk, what’s your status?" he asked.
‘I’m not sure Mr. Fiamingo. It’s a total clusterfuck down here. The passengers are panicking, and I don’t blame them. Where’s our backup?’ Hurk asked.
"You are the backup. The rest of the security force is gone. I need you to do something for me. I need you to head down to the engine room and figure out where we’re headed."
‘Sir? All due respect, but you don’t know how bad it is down here. Why can’t you check it from the bridge?’ Hurk asked.
"I’ve been locked out of the bridge," Ross admitted.
‘What do you mean, sir?’
"Captain Hane has assumed command of the ship."
‘Where are you?’
"He’s confined me to my quarters. I can’t leave."
‘Is there any way you can get into the air ducts in your room? They should meet up with the emergency stairs. Follow them, and you’ll get to the bottom of the ship. Then you can head toward the escape shuttles, just like us.’
"You’re leaving?"
‘Damn right. Whatever this is... there’s no stopping it. The only thing left is to get out while we still can. That might not be an option for much longer.’
Ross’s pulse quickened. He’d never considered that he’d lose the ship. As long as he thought he could convince Captain Hane to take the ship back to Alliance space he was confident he would make it out of this mess alive. But maybe he was wrong.
"Do you know of any way I can access the navigation controls via remote interface?" Ross asked.
‘No, I don’t. And I wouldn’t tell you even if I did. You can’t stop it. Try and get to an evac shuttle if you can. If not, then it’s been nice working with you.’
"No! Hurk, you need to help me! I can fix this!"
‘I’m sorry Mr. Fiamingo. Good luck,’ Hurk said and ended the comm link.
Ross roared in frustration and punched the coffee table. He sat back on the couch and mulled over his options. Either he could sit here and wait for the end, he could flee and join Hurk in the evacuation shuttles, or he could try to take control of the ship.
He couldn’t take the ship back without using force. Hane had enough armed guards posted inside Metro Tower that Ross would need his own armed force to take it over. The only soldiers loyal to him on the ship were on their way to the evacuation shuttles. But they weren’t the only force on board the ship that could stand against Captain Hane. The infected could overpower Hane’s forces with ease. They just needed a way into the building.
Perhaps Hurk’s suggestion deserved further consideration. If Ross could find a way of getting the infected to follow his orders, he had a chance of making it out alive. If the organism was intelligent enough to be capable of negotiation and bargaining, his father would surely want to know about it.
Ross stood up from the couch and walked over to the air vent. It looked like a tight squeeze, but manageable as long as he could get the vent co
ver off. He didn’t own a screwdriver – he could normally call up maintenance to fix anything in the apartment, but not this time. This time he would have to improvise.
Ross headed into the kitchen and took a butter knife from the top drawer. He dragged a chair under the vent cover, stepped up and started to undo the screws holding the vent cover in place. Ross was as quiet as possible, conscious of the soldiers outside his door. After the four screws were undone he pulled gently on the vent cover. It slipped out of the frame as quiet as a whisper. Ross set the vent cover down on the chair and looked into the darkness.
Reflective steel walls lined the vent. The more he thought about it, the less likely it would be that he would actually get into the vent, and he knew it. He closed his eyes and exhaled. When he reopened his eyes he didn’t give himself a chance to think. He climbed up into the vent and crawled deeper into the ventilation system.
It wasn’t long before he came to an impasse. The ventilation shaft took a ninety-degree downward turn. Ross crawled forward and looked over the precipice, expecting to see nothing but darkness, but instead he saw indents on the opposite side of the shaft, each set about a foot apart. There were handholds recessed into the shaft.
Ross reached out to one of the handholds and slowly inched his way out into the ventilation shaft. A cool breeze blew up from below him. He stepped onto the handholds below and looked down. Ross climbed downward.
Chapter Thirteen
Apart from Ross’s own footsteps pounding the grated metal flooring, the access tunnels below Metro Tower were eerily quiet. His footsteps echoed off the walls and down the tight corridors. There was no doubt that he was headed in the right direction. They were already watching him.
At the end of the corridor someone grew from the wall, like parasitic a tropical fern that hung from the side of a tree in the rainforest. The person flowered. Their arms and legs were unrecognizable - their torso hung forward at an angle, held with thick strands of flesh that grew into the wall. The many unblinking eyes that covered the person’s head watched everything. It was a sentry, set up to watch the perimeter of the infected’s inner sanctum.
It focused on Ross as he approached. Sealed inside his armor, he was safe from infection.
"I want to talk to your leader," Ross said nervously.
The sentry opened its mouth as though it wanted to speak, but could only remember the motions, not the mechanics of how speech worked. Spittle dripped over the eyeballs in its chin as its mouth worked open and closed. It made a brief whistling sound as it spoke.
"You are speaking to us," the sentry said.
"Your leader. I must speak to your leader, no one else," Ross said.
"You are speaking to us. No one leads. We... think together," the sentry said.
Ross swallowed. He thought it was a disease like rabies or ebola, affecting the physical bodies of the infected and impairing their mental abilities. He hadn’t expected the infection to join them into some kind of grotesque shared consciousness.
"What do you want?" Ross asked.
"We want to go home," the sentry said.
"Where is your home?"
"Our home is, is, is," the sentry said, stuttering as it thought.
"Where is your home?" Ross asked again.
"New Earth. Orpheon. Orphos. Central. All of these places are home."
"What would you say if I told you that I could take you home?" Ross asked.
"We are listening," the sentry said.
"All I ask is that you allow me to remain myself until we reach our home," Ross said.
"You do not wish to receive the gift?" the sentry asked.
That word it used. Gift. Is that how the infected saw themselves? Gifted? It sure didn’t look like a gift. It looked like a curse.
"I... I do," Ross said nervously, "I just need to remain myself until we reach home. There’s a bad man in the bridge who doesn’t want you to reach your home. He wants to kill you."
"Kill?" the sentry asked.
"Yes. Kill. Destroy. He wants to make it so you don’t exist anymore," Ross said.
"What does that mean?"
The consciousness that drove this hive mind did not understand the concept of death. The idea that it might one day cease to be was completely alien to it.
"The... gifted... ones that are a part of you know what death and destruction are. Think about funerals. Accidents. Loss. Grief. That is death," Ross said.
The sentry was silent and motionless for a long moment. Then its face contorted into a pain-filled mask of grief and shrieked. Other voices joined the cacophony that echoed through the corridors. The wailing ended as abruptly as it began.
"We do not want death," the sentry said.
"Nor do I. If you follow my orders and help me take control of my ship, I will make it so that you never die," Ross said.
"We agree. Tell us what to do," the sentry said.
"You need to climb to the top of Metro Tower. You can’t approach from the front. There are too many armed guards. But I know a secret way. A passage that you can climb straight to the top. Once there, you need to find this man," Ross said and brought up a picture of Captain Hane on his wrist-mounted comm unit. "He is the one that wants to kill you. Give him the... gift. Make him see reason and make him follow my orders."
"We agree. Lead us," the sentry said.
Footsteps echoed down the halls from either side of the sentry. A horde of misshapen infected passengers converged on Ross. There were hundreds in varying stages of infection. Smaller infected creatures made of parts of passengers crawled over the infected, caring for them as the infection took over.
The infected stopped behind the sentry and waited.
"Follow me," Ross said and backtracked down the tunnel toward the ventilation shaft.
Chapter Fourteen
Ross’s apartment door was still locked when he arrived. None of the armed guards had entered his room to check on him. That was good.
The infected climbed out of the vent and slowly began to fill the room. Ross knew he would never be able to return his home of the last five years. Not after the infected had contaminated everything.
There was no backing out now. Events were moving too fast to change gears. Ross knocked on the locked door.
"I need some food. And some water. You can’t keep me locked in here!" Ross shouted through the door.
‘Cook something yourself. Or drink from the toilet,’ came the reply from the guards. Ross couldn’t recognize the voice.
"You think I have food in here? I don’t have my cook. They make all my food, and I’m not drinking from the damn toilet. If the infection is in the water supply, do you really want to risk that?" Ross asked.
The guard sighed loud enough for Ross hear it through the door.
‘Fine. Wait there, and step away from the door,’ the guard said.
"You got it," Ross said and motioned for the infected to stand by.
"As soon as the door opens, attack," Ross said quietly.
He stood facing the door, his arms clasped behind his back. Footsteps approached outside, and then the door slid open. The guard looked up in time to see a pack of infected rush toward him. The guard on the other side of the doorway raised his weapon and pulled the trigger, but there were simply too many infected. The soldiers were pushed toward the wall behind them and pinned there as the tide flowed from Ross’s apartment.
"Go for Captain Hane, but do not harm him. We need him alive," Ross commanded.
The horde of infected rushed out of Ross’s apartment and into Metro Tower. It wouldn’t be long until the MetroCorp Security Force sounded the alarm, then the guards from the bottom levels would climb to the bridge. By then it would be too late.
"I need a group of you to guard the stairwell, and another group to come with me to the bridge." Ross motioned for the infected to follow him.
The guards were left in a broken, bloody heap. They wouldn’t be moving any time soon. Not until the infection took them ove
r from the inside out. Once they accepted the gift.
Ross shuddered. No matter what, he needed to keep his suit sealed. He turned toward a fire door set into the corridor wall and kicked it open. He pointed down the stairwell.
"Ten of you. Go down here. Form a choke point. Don’t let anyone pass," Ross said.
"Yes," ten of the infected said in unison and descended the stairs.
"The rest of you, come with me," Ross said and began climbing the stairs to the bridge.
There was an army of infected at his back. When he reached the top floor, he looked down into the stairwell below. Every single step was packed with infected, slowly shuffling upward.
He kicked the fire door at the apex of the staircase open and the horde of infected rushed onto the bridge. Captain Hane sat in his seat behind the command center and stared out at the twin stars in front of the ship.
Captain Hane turned when he heard the first scream. He drew his pistol from its holster and emptied the magazine into the unstoppable onslaught of infected passengers that surged onto the bridge. Some fell, but not enough. The infected outnumbered the armed guards three to one, with more joining them every second.
It wasn’t a battle. It was a slaughter. The first wave of infected soaked up the gunfire from the dwindling MetroCorp Security Force. The bullets didn’t appear to hurt the infected at all. A couple of infected buckled as the survivors aimed at their knees and heads, but their advance could not be stopped.
Ross walked calmly through the remains of the crew. He was glad their faces were hidden by the reflective glass visors of their smartsuits. These were people he had lived, worked with and known for the past five years. And they were all dead now because of him.
None of it would matter as long as he could take control of the ship again. This infection, this organism, was a biological marvel. There would be companies who would be willing to pay trillions of credits for the rights to study it. He could finally do something with his life that mattered. Something that would make his father proud.
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