by James Axler
The computer paused for a moment. “I confess that the current security units have never lived up to my initial design for them. However, now that you have arrived, I believe that we will make excellent progress on the next iteration.”
Despite her disgust, Mildred listened with fascination to the ghoulish topic. Over the past century, AIDAN seemed to have solved a few problems that had troubled humankind since the advent of medicine itself. She was pretty sure that, if given the choice, the patients would not have paid the cost for this kind of life, however.
There was another element to AIDAN’s measured recitation of its achievement. Mildred had dealt with more than her share of arrogant, opinionated doctors in her day, and something about the computer’s tone as it was telling her about this process struck her: it sounded exactly like one of those doctors, as if the machine wanted to be recognized for its accomplishment.
Realizing the computer was probably waiting for her to reply, Mildred cleared her throat. “Yes, I expect that we will. But first, this operating room must be cleaned, as I cannot work under these conditions. Tell me you have some kind of cleaning robot or something of the kind in here?”
“Not as such, once the last human expired. At the time, it is was vital to concentrate on the creation and sustaining of the cyborgs. To facilitate the cleaning of this room, I suggest activating the backup fire suppression system, which would douse the entire area with filtered fresh water. All of the detritus and other unnecessary liquids would be collected near the drain at the center of the room.”
“Won’t that harm your specimens?” she asked.
“The ones in the tanks will be fine, but you should move the ones in the middle of the room into the operating chamber ahead of you. Once we are finished in here, we can clean that room, as well. I will summon other security units to assist you.”
“That’s all right. I don’t wish to take them from their duties,” she replied. Besides, she thought as she walked over to the pile, none of these look large enough to be too much of a hassle—
But even as she reached down to grab the plastic-faced woman, the cyborg’s arm swung up, its hand latching on to her throat.
With her air suddenly cut off, Mildred couldn’t even wheeze out a cry for help to AIDAN as the half human, half machine began drawing her closer to its terrible face.
* * *
“CAN’T WAIT TO see what this place has in its workshop.”
Ricky was practically jumping up and down as the four men passed the intersection where they had come in and headed down the right corridor, their feet splashing in the stagnant water.
“I wouldn’t get my hopes up too far, Ricky,” J.B. replied. “From what we’ve seen so far, it’s doubtful there’ll be much of anything in working order.”
“Maybe, but if they got tools and supplies, then we can fix the rest of it, right?”
“The optimism of the young,” Ryan said with a smile. “What about you, Jak? You looking for anything interesting down here?”
The albino looked around for any listening devices, but saw none. “Yeah—way out this underwater trap,” he muttered.
“Second that,” J.B. said.
Ryan also took a look around as they progressed farther down the dank, moldy corridor, the lights flickering on as they passed, then winking out when they were a few steps away. It was apparent that the maintenance section had not been visited in a long, long while. “Everyone just stay on the lookout for anything that might help us.”
The two teens trotted ahead, leaving Ryan and J.B. a few steps behind. The one-eyed man glanced over to find his old friend rubbing his chin. “What are you thinking?”
“Thinking we’re in a hell of a mess.”
Ryan shrugged. “Mebbe. Still breathing, aren’t we?”
“For now.” J.B.’s eyes flicked around. “Long as that comp decides we’re more useful alive than dead and reanimated as its next wave of secmen.” He looked owlishly at Ryan from behind his glasses. “You know it could do it, too, right? Just lower the oxygen content in the air until we all asphyxiate, and there you go. Seven more bodies on the hoof.”
“Except then it won’t get any more humans running around—” Ryan began, only to get cut off.
“Dark night, I sure hope you’re joking!”
“Rad blast it, you know I am!” Ryan said. “Look, we’re not going to end up like that.”
“Damn right we’re not. I’ll find whatever vents I need and bring the whole ocean into this place before I go out like that.”
Ryan sighed. He’d expected that exact answer from J.B., but he hadn’t expected the combined tone of vehemence and finality that permeated the words. “We’re going to find a way out. There has to be something somewhere. They didn’t build these things without multiple fail-safes and backups.”
“And I’m all for finding them, but you aren’t seeing the whole picture.” J.B. checked on the two youths ahead before continuing, and his eyes strayed to the walls around them. “Lot of dark stains around here,” he said.
Ryan glanced around at the large splashes of dried, black stains that he knew was old blood. “Looks like some kind of all-out battle happened in here.”
J.B. nodded. “Or last stand.” He fell silent a moment, then looked at Ryan again. “Traveled a lot of miles together, you and I. You know I’ll always fight until the last bullet, blade, or bite. But we have never run into this kind of situation before, with this...comp system like it is. Who knows, it may have already scuttled all of the lifeboats or escape pods or whatever they had down here, to keep people from trying to evacuate. Hell, it might have even sabotaged the mat-trans after we arrived, to make sure we couldn’t leave, either. Don’t be fooled by its sounding so calm and rational. Anything that would create those monstrosities is anything but.”
Ryan nodded. “Ace on the line with that one, J.B.”
“We found it!” Ricky called from a dozen yards ahead.
“Door looks messed up,” Jak said.
He was right. As Ryan drew closer, he saw burn and scratch marks all over the door.
“Let’s see what we got in here.”
Jak’s card opened the door easily enough, but the lights in there were less cooperative, with only scattered ones coming on as they walked into the largest room they’d encountered so far.
At first glance, it looked like the mechanic’s paradise Ricky had been hoping for. But as they probed deeper into the darkness, it became apparent that maintenance had been ransacked and cannibalized for anything useful, leaving only ruined pieces of once-whole machines.
As Ryan walked farther into the room, he realized it was much worse than that. The last survivors had tried to fight off the secmen in here. He was sure of it, since, except for the dried stains on the floor and walls, they might have stopped fighting five minutes ago. The evidence was everywhere—improvised, broken weapons, hastily erected defensive fortifications, industrial equipment modified with offensive capabilities. The ubiquitous red orb and speaker by the door had been smashed and never repaired. And if that wasn’t enough, there were the bloodstains.
Everywhere he looked, Ryan saw bloodstains.
Everyone else was silent as they went through the wreckage. Only Ricky said anything.
“Santa Maria!” Ricky shook his head as he looked around. “These jocks sure didn’t know how to take care of their equipment! Pieces and parts thrown around everywhere!”
Ryan opened his mouth to correct the kid, but Jak beat him to it. “That not it, ya stupe. Tried fight off ’borgs here. Last stand.” The albino looked around, his white hair catching the light. “Sucked to be them.”
Ryan decided to get everyone working to combat the gloomy feel of the mechanic’s bay. “That was then, and this is now. We still got a lot to do. Ricky, you’re on tool detail. Anything around here that still works, collect it and put it near the door. Jak, help him. J.B. and I are going to check out the back.”
“You see what I saw ove
r there?” J.B. asked as he fell into step behind the taller man.
Ryan nodded. He’d spotted several large, irregular shapes toward the back, and wanted to check them out. The first thing he noticed was what looked like a large airlock door, about nine feet tall and just as wide, on the back wall. “We could all just duck out of there,” he remarked to J.B.
The Armorer snorted. “Yeah, because being crushed to jelly while drowning is the way I want to go. Come on, let’s check these out.”
The first thing they looked at, half covered by a moldy tarp, was a fairly large three-person submarine. Scratches and dents covered its metal surface, and its thick windows had been smashed. At the rear, one of the directional fans that provided propulsion and steering had been crushed to about three inches thick. J.B. poked his head inside the ruined cockpit to find the smashed controls all crusted over with something dried and flaky. He wasn’t about to touch it to find out what, however.
Keeping an ear on Ricky and Jak going through the debris, he lowered the tarp and headed toward the back wall, where J.B. was looking at something with what was close to a smile on his face. “Best thing I’ve seen since we arrived.”
Looking over the bulbous, mechanized diving suit, Ryan had to agree with him.
Suspended in a heavy-duty harness and hanging from what looked like a portable engine hoist, the suit was eight feet tall and bright white. It consisted of what looked like a series of round bubbles that had been connected together to form a suit large enough for a big person to fit inside. The torso was very bulky, and Ryan figured it held the air supply and other vital systems. Instead of hands, both arms ended in two large gripper clamps, each one caked in dried blood up to the wrists.
“Think we’ll find someone inside?” J.B. asked.
“You figure someone died in there?”
J.B. pointed to the gripper clamps. “Someone used this thing for something other than walking around on the ocean floor. Come on. Let’s see if we can crack it open.”
Putting their backs into it, the two men wheeled the suit over to a workbench. J.B. climbed on the table and studied the top for a few seconds. “Here they are.” He released four inset clamps, and a large part of the back of the suit rose an inch away from the rest. “Don’t know if it’s all one piece or if it will come off by itself...heavy...” Getting both hands on it, he pulled it up and out.
The back piece pivoted out like a clamshell, coming to rest at a forty-five-degree angle to the rest of the suit. The space it left was just large enough for a person to slip into the interior. J.B. stuck his head into the compartment. “Empty. Whoever was manning this thing’s long gone.”
“Probably wandering the halls of this place somewhere,” Ryan said. Ricky and Jak had come over to see what they were doing.
Ricky whistled. “Wow. Think it still works?”
Making sure the hoist was secure, J.B. leaned in a bit farther. “Clean in here, too. No sign of damage.” He popped his head back out. “If we can get it running and find the oxygen it needs, things might be looking up.”
“Well, let’s see what we can do,” Ryan said. He was about to look around for anything that might help with the suit when the room’s main door opened.
“Ryan and John Dix, Dr. Tanner has requested that you join him in the command center right away.” AIDAN’s voice came from the hallway.
The two men exchanged glances. “We’ll be right there,” Ryan replied. “Wonder what he found?”
“One way to find out,” J.B. replied. “Ricky, start getting familiar with this suit. Figure out what it needs, and what needs to be repaired or refilled on it.”
Ricky nodded. “Sure. By the time you come back, I’ll know it like the back of my hand.”
“What I do?” Jak asked.
“Help Ricky, of course,” Ryan replied. “Once he’s inside there, he’ll need someone to hand him tools or make sure he doesn’t get crushed if the whole thing falls over.”
He crooked a finger at Ricky. “Come here for a moment.” He whispered something in the boy’s ear, which sent him scurrying out of the room.
“Jak, hang here till Ricky gets back.”
He nodded to J.B. and turned to the door. “Let’s go find out what Doc wants.”
Chapter Eleven
Krysty strode down the deserted corridor toward the aquaculture section, her thoughts jumpy and nervous. Usually calm and collected even in the direst of circumstances, she could feel her composure slipping with every minute she spent in this place. It required every bit of control she possessed not to jump or flinch at every little noise.
The reason for this was all around her. Not just the blasphemy against nature of the reanimated sec ’borgs, but all of it. The base itself—a completely artificial enclosure against the natural world outside. The omnipotent presence of the artificial intelligence computer. All of it pressed on her mental faculties with an insistent pressure that couldn’t be ignored.
AIDAN was especially troublesome. The mutie power Krysty inherited from her mother, Sonja, allowed her to sense the presence of living things nearby. Occasionally, she could also sense more details about them, such as whether or not they were hostile toward the group.
But the computer system running Poseidon Base was unlike anything she had ever encountered before. Before coming here, she never would have thought she could detect anything like it before—after all, it wasn’t alive. And yet, she could feel its presence. That led to an entire host of questions—about the nature of her ability as well as the nature of life itself—that she really didn’t want to contemplate. Part of her was curious to get a look at the workings of the computer itself, to see if it was fully machine or some combination of organic and mechanical. Another part of her mind was nearly terrified at the very idea. She was really beginning to think that not feeling it would be much better.
The main problem was that the computer was everywhere in the base, a disembodied being all around her, waiting...watching. Therefore, it was always setting off her ability. Also, the detection itself was unnerving, the feeling akin to a mild electric shock in her brain. All in all, it was making her damned skittish—and very uncomfortable.
She came to the door marked Aquaculture Bay. Krysty had done her share of gardening back in her home ville of Harmony, but she had a feeling this was going to be quite different.
Steeling herself, she addressed the computer. “AIDAN?”
“Yes, Miss Wroth?”
Despite how she felt about the computer, Krysty couldn’t help smiling at its politeness. “Krysty’s fine. Please explain what this part of the base is.”
“Gladly. When Poseideon Base was conceived, one of its basic parameters was to be self-sufficient. Harvesting as much food as possible from the ocean was a recognized part of the base’s operation, and all preparations were made to facilitate that end. The aquaculture program was designed to harvest the most nutritious strains of aquatic plant life and cross-breed them to create the most beneficial strains.”
“Sounds commendable. How did it go?”
“Well enough, at first. The primary botanist in change accomplished some amazing things before his disappearance, including making the bay largely self-replenishing. His files are on record, if you wish to view them.”
“Perhaps later,” she replied.
“Very well. Toward the end, however, things seemed to be getting a bit out of control. You may find that it is a bit overgrown in there.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. What will my duties consist of?”
“First, you will check the condition of the communication console near the door, Krysty,” AIDAN replied. “It has not been functional since 9/7/2064, and I do not yet have a robot with the capacity to repair it. When you have ascertained the nature of its malfunction, you will notify one of the maintenance crew, who will then repair it. Once this has been completed, I will instruct you further on your regular duties.”
Although Krysty thought it was odd that the co
mputer had delegated her to this particular task, and not one of the others actually assigned to maintenance, she wasn’t going to argue. “All right.” She slotted the card and the door opened, letting a wave of warm, humid air roll over her.
“Gaia...” she breathed as she stared at the profusion of plant life that had grown wild in the large room. Long rows of water-filled tanks contained a bewildering variety of green plants. Many had overgrown their immediate quarters, their dried shoots and stalks spilling out of the water and withering in the moist air. Others had just kept growing, sending green tendrils over everything, including the walls and ceiling. The air was alive with smells, both of blooming plants, as well as the rich peaty smell of decaying organic matter. It was all underlaid with a sweetish smell that was somehow familiar to her, but she couldn’t quite place it.
“How long has this department gone unattended?” she asked without taking her eyes off the profusion of greenery inside. She felt her hair contract and pull up until it was curled into a tight ball at her nape. Something was off in there.
“Regular maintenance and cross-pollination continued until 1/3/63, when the last robot capable of maintaining this section malfunctioned. Now that you and your group are here, this section will be reorganized and maintained both to add to our food stores and prepare for more new arrivals.”
“Okay, I’m going inside. I’ll let you know what’s going on with the panel as soon as possible.”
“Thank you, Krysty,” the computer replied as she stepped across the threshold. The door closed behind her, leaving her to face the jungle alone. All was quiet here, although, once again, she got the distinct feeling that she was being watched. But there was only plant life here.
Shaking off the feeling, she turned to examine the red orb and speaker near the side of the door. The orb itself was dull, with tiny beads of condensed water inside it. The speaker seemed to be choked off by some kind of lichen or mold. Wiping her sweaty brow, Krysty glanced at the ceiling, looking for irrigation spigots.