Survival Game

by Gary Gibson

  ‘That’s not how it was,’ I said, fighting to keep my voice steady. ‘He was onto us almost from the start. They all were. Your cover stories didn’t fool Elena Kovitch for one moment. She’d already looked into our backgrounds. The reason they invited me to Delta Twenty-Five in the first place was so Elena could confront me away from the rest of the Soviets – and away from you. And Jerry made it abundantly clear I had to cooperate with him and the Authority, or he’d hand me over to Director Blodel the moment we got back to the island.’

  Borodin looked past me, studying Jerry through a haze of smoke. ‘So he was telling the truth.’ He looked back at me. ‘And he offered you what, exactly, in return for your cooperation?’

  I swallowed hard. ‘Nothing.’

  Borodin dropped his cigarette into an ashtray on the seat next to his, then leaned forward, pressing a button on a microphone just below the window.

  ‘Monsieur Sauveterre,’ he said into the microphone, ‘I want you to cut off one of Mr Beche’s fingers. Any one will do.’

  I stepped forward and tried to grab hold of Borodin around the throat – but before I could get him in a chokehold, the guards had pulled me back, twisting my arms behind my shoulders and shoving me face-first against the floor. I lay with my cheek pressed against hard concrete, struggling to breathe.

  I heard a click, and from the corner of my eye saw Borodin touch the microphone. ‘Wait one moment, Monsieur Sauveterre.’

  I was pulled upright, then shoved into the seat next to Borodin’s. A guard made his way into the row of seats behind me, leaning over me and pinning me down so I couldn’t move.

  Through the glass, Monsieur Sauveterre stood attentively by Jerry’s side, a gleaming scalpel in one hand. Jerry, who had seen it, struggled wildly to be free.

  ‘Are you going to tell me the truth now?’ asked Borodin.

  I nodded, my heart thudding. ‘He offered me protection,’ I said hoarsely, ‘if I agreed to help the Authority with their transfer research programme.’

  ‘They wanted you to help them build new stages and find new alternates they could colonize, I assume?’

  ‘I had no choice! They were going to arrest you.’

  Borodin let out a short, sharp laugh at this.

  ‘They said you’d been making bombs.’

  ‘I thought I’d have to take control of their hangar by force,’ he told me, looking pleased with himself. ‘Then you led me to that hidden stage and made everything so much easier.’ He waved his cigarette at me. ‘So, are you going to tell the truth from now on?’

  ‘I swear,’ I said, ‘I’ll answer anything you want.’

  ‘Good. Now tell me – is your father deliberately delaying his work in any way? Or maybe even planning to sabotage it?’

  He was so far off the mark I nearly burst out laughing. I had thought perhaps they had discovered my home-made device, and that was why I had been brought here. It appeared this was not the case.

  ‘My father?’ I said, utterly incredulous. ‘You destroyed him, you son of a bitch. As if he could stand up to anyone or anything any more! He told me I should get used to life here again, that I should learn to . . . to accept it.’

  Borodin sucked at his lower lip, studying my face, looking for evidence of a lie or a half-truth. I didn’t need to fake my anger: it was entirely real.

  ‘What, precisely, did he say?’

  I let out an exasperated sigh: ‘I took a walk with him after you brought me back,’ I said, ‘and he told me not to fight you. He told me to give up, that you’d won.’ I glanced again at Jerry. ‘Let him go, Mikhail, please. Anything I can tell you, I will. He’s no use to you.’

  Borodin kept his eyes locked on mine for several more seconds, then leaned back with a sigh. ‘Very well then.’

  ‘That’s it?’ I said, betraying my hopefulness. ‘You’ll let Jerry go?’

  He pursed his lips. ‘What I do isn’t your concern—’

  ‘Just tell her,’ muttered Herr Frank from the back of the booth. ‘You’ll need to soon enough anyway.’

  I stared between them. ‘Tell me what?’

  ‘As soon as the Tsar’s health is restored,’ said Herr Frank, ‘we expect him to approve an expeditionary force against the Syllogikos bases currently occupied by the Authority. You, Miss Orlova, will have a role in that.’

  I could hardly believe what I was hearing. ‘Why? What the hell could the Authority have that you could possibly—?’

  And then it hit me. ‘The Hyperspheres,’ I said heavily. ‘You’re going back there to try and find the rest of them.’

  Borodin’s mouth twisted up in irritation. ‘We can’t afford the risk of the Authority getting hold of even one.’

  ‘You don’t know there are any left on Delta Twenty-Five,’ I said. ‘The Syllogikos could have taken the rest away. Even if they didn’t, you could search for years – all while being hunted by invisible monsters.’

  ‘No matter,’ snapped Borodin. ‘Even a single Hypersphere could make the Authority as powerful as the Empire.’

  ‘And given the sheer number of dead we left scattered all over one of their alternates,’ added Herr Frank, staring hard at the back of Borodin’s head, ‘they must be aware of our existence by now. With a Hypersphere, they could gather weapons of unimaginable power to use against us. It’s only logical that we must strike first – and you and that Pathfinder will be key to the invasion.’

  ‘You’ll drag us all down to hell with you, won’t you?’ I spat. ‘You think I don’t know what’ll happen to you both if the Tsar dies? I overheard everything when you were arguing in that office, Borodin. Don’t pretend any of this is for the Empire’s sake: it’s all to save your own worthless skins.’

  Borodin’s face coloured. ‘Get her out of here!’ he bellowed at Herr Frank.

  Herr Frank nodded, and the guard behind me dragged me back out of my seat. I stared through the glass at Jerry. And when the guard shoved the gag back into my mouth, I did not struggle.

  By the time I was returned to my room, the sky beyond the Crag’s battlements had turned red from the approaching dawn.

  As soon as the guard’s footsteps had receded into the distance, I got down on my knees and dug out the home-made device from behind its brick, just to be sure it was still there. The sensor realignment was due to take place that afternoon.

  I replaced the device in its hiding place and lay back on my bed. To my surprise, I slept soundly, until my anklet buzzed me awake just a few hours later.

  That morning, the laboratory was busier than I had ever seen it. Two imperial guards, armed as always with machine guns, were stationed next to the platform supporting the Hypersphere.

  I didn’t let myself even think about how risky my plan was. Even a moment’s doubt would be enough to stop me.

  ‘Clear the room!’ Leon Gulley shouted when the time came, clapping his hands until he had everyone’s attention. ‘Everyone out except for essential personnel. Josef?’

  My father nodded as most of the exiles boarded the elevator and were lifted out of view. I remained since it was my duty to oversee the sensor array readings during the realignment.

  I glanced up from my workstation to see my father conferring with Leon and Vanya. When I looked back down at my screen, I saw my own eyes reflected back at me. In contrast to my internal state, they looked quite calm. I expected to hear a shouted warning any second, before being knocked to the ground. Or perhaps Borodin would appear at the last minute and pull the sabotage device out of my pocket. Or perhaps . . .

  Instead, nobody paid me much attention.

  The elevator came back down again, this time disgorging Herr Frank. ‘Whenever you’re ready to begin, Doctor Orlov,’ he said to my father.

  ‘This way, sir,’ said Josef, guiding Herr Frank towards the platform. The two imperial guards moved apart as Herr Frank climbed the steps onto the platform and approached the Hypersphere, which was almost invisible within its profusion of cables. He consulted the sam
e slip of blue paper I had seen him use before, then tapped at the cage’s locking device.

  The bars opened with a faint hiss, revealing the Hypersphere in all its exotic glory.

  ‘Louis, Vanya,’ said my father, ‘you have two minutes.’

  The two engineers stepped forward and began carefully rearranging the sensors that had been inserted through the slots of the Hypersphere’s cage. They worked with machine guns aimed at their hearts. Their job was an intricate and complex one, but they were skilled men and worked quickly. I kept my eyes on the screen, seeing sensors go offline, then come online again.

  Two minutes later Vanya gave my father a thumbs-up. Josef turned to me. ‘Katya?’

  I checked the screen again. My throat was so dry it hurt to swallow, my skin clammy with sweat.

  ‘Everything looks good,’ I called out. No one seemed to notice the quaver in my voice.

  ‘First full calibration test in two minutes,’ said Josef. ‘Louis, Vanya, back to your workstations. Goggles, everyone.’

  The two men climbed down from the platform, leaving the Hypersphere sitting in its half-open cage and, just for a few moments, vulnerable to attack.

  I stepped away from my workstation and moved towards a wall-panel from which a myriad of coloured cables snaked down to the floor in an untidy tangle. I held my sabotage device close against my side, the blood pounding in my head like a war drum.

  ‘Katya?’ my father called out. ‘Is everything all right?’

  I stopped, stared at the panel, then swivelled around to face him. ‘There’s a slight fluctuation in the power feed,’ I said. ‘Probably just a loose connection, but I’d better check it.’

  He nodded, and I resumed my journey. Each step felt like a thousand miles.

  At last I kneeled before the panel. I had already picked out the cable I needed: I unplugged it, then, leaning over to hide what I was doing from the eyes of the guards and the lenses of the cameras, cracked open the plastic case in my hands.

  The cigarette was already inside: it had slipped out from between the two spring-loaded wires, so I moved it back into place. I took out the lighter and hurriedly applied it to one end of the cigarette. I waited for a shout, for an alarm to sound, but it never came. Everyone’s attention was on the Hypersphere.

  I snapped the plastic case shut and hoped there were enough holes cut in it that the cigarette wouldn’t run out of oxygen. Then I plugged it into the panel and pushed the cable into the device.

  I nodded to my father, then pulled on my goggles just as he activated the link between the Hypersphere and the stage.

  Light coalesced above the transfer stage adjacent to the Hypersphere. I gazed fixedly at the screen before me, too afraid to look up and see if anyone was staring in my direction.

  ‘Not bad,’ said Josef, who had hardly looked up from his own screen. ‘Let’s try configuration number two and see what we get.’

  My hands grew clammy, a sick feeling gathering in my belly. Shouldn’t the cigarette have burned down by now? When would somebody notice the smell of a cigarette coming from the wall-panel?

  The cage was still open, the Hypersphere still exposed. The Crag’s guards were handpicked for their loyalty to the Tsar: any one of them could have destroyed the artefact in an instant with a single bullet.

  I waited, and still nothing happened. My crude, pathetic attempt at sabotage had failed, after all: I fought back a moan. It would be discovered, and they would soon work out I was responsible. I would either be executed, or sent to some place even worse than the Crag. I pressed my hand against the screen, dizzy with fear, my legs threatening to buckle . . .

  . . . And then all the lights went out.

  I did not allow myself to hesitate, even as voices shouted to one another. The only light in the laboratory came from the Hypersphere itself: the spring-loaded wires had touched, creating a short-circuit.

  I kneeled quickly, ignoring the shouts and cries of the guards, and felt around for the heavy wrench I had secreted in the base of the workstation two days before. I could hear the clang of boots on the overhead walkway as Herr Frank’s guards came running down the stairs.

  I found the wrench and stood with it in one hand. It felt satisfyingly heavy in my hand. Even in the darkness, I could still clearly make out the exposed Hypersphere by its faint glow.

  I ran forward, crossing the short distance to the platform. I could just make out one of the imperial guards moving to close the artefact’s cage.

  I threw myself up the steps and onto the platform and swung the wrench wildly at one of the imperial guards, hearing him cry with pain. I felt hands grab hold of me from behind, and swung the wrench back over my shoulder with furious, hysterical energy. I heard a grunt as the second imperial guard let go of me, falling back down the platform steps.

  I climbed over his fallen compatriot, and stepped towards the Hypersphere, gripping the wrench with both hands as I lifted it high above the artefact.

  But before I could bring it swinging down, hands again grabbed hold of me from behind, pulling me back towards the platform steps. I screamed as the wrench was suddenly torn from my grasp, and I was thrown bodily down the steps to sprawl on the floor of the laboratory.

  I tried to stand, and felt someone’s boot connect hard with my belly. I twisted into a ball, tasting iron and coughing wetly as the lights snapped back on. Someone must have found my sabotage device and removed it.

  I looked up, gasping for breath, in time to see a bloodied imperial guard standing over me, his mouth set in a snarl. I put up a hand to shield myself, and watched, helpless, as he lifted his rifle high before bringing its butt down hard against my skull.

  TWENTY

  When I came to, I was sprawled on the floor of a windowless cell. A single light bulb contained within a wire cage hung from the ceiling. The floor was hard concrete, the walls unadorned brick.

  I swallowed, again tasting blood. My body was wracked with aches and bruises. I reached around to the back of my head with trembling fingers and felt the huge, tender bruise there.

  I let my head sink down again, until my forehead touched the cold concrete. I was surprised I was still alive. I did not expect to be for much longer.

  Eventually I pushed myself upright against a wall and wondered which part of the Crag I was in: the interrogation block, most likely. The cell I was in certainly fitted some of the descriptions I had heard.

  After a while, the cell door creaked open. Borodin stared down at me with a mixture of fury and contempt.

  ‘Pick her up,’ he said curtly to one of the two guards beside him.

  They squeezed inside and pushed me upright against the wall. Borodin stepped up close, then drew back his fist and punched me hard in the belly.

  I sagged, retching, between the two guards. He withdrew my sabotage device from his jacket, tossing it at my feet.

  ‘Very clever, Katya,’ Borodin said acidly. ‘But not clever enough. I’m sure you’ll be pleased to hear that all the calibrations have been completed and all the readings are optimal. The Hypersphere, according to your father, is now ready for the Tsar to use.’ He smiled tightly. ‘You’ll notice we have not, so far, been invaded by monsters from another dimension.’

  ‘If you’re going to shoot me,’ I croaked, ‘get on with it.’

  ‘You’ve wasted your life for nothing,’ he snarled. ‘Somehow, Katya, I managed to convince myself that once you were back at work on the Hypersphere, and able to exercise that remarkable intellect of yours, things would change. That, clearly, was an error of judgement on my part.’ He pointed at me, his finger quivering. ‘Your father has fulfilled his debt to the Tsar. So have the rest of them. But you . . .’ He shook his head. ‘You will be executed tomorrow morning. I’m afraid this really is goodbye, Katya.’

  He gestured to the two guards, and they let me go. I slumped back to the floor and watched them slam the door shut. After their footsteps had faded into the distance, I curled into a ball on my side and we
pt.

  I woke to the sound of hushed voices somewhere outside my cell, followed by a loud shush. After a moment the voices resumed at a slightly lower volume than before.

  I sat up, suddenly tense. Whoever was out there, they clearly weren’t Herr Frank’s guards.

  I heard the shuffle of footsteps just beyond the door of my cell and thought I recognized one of the voices as Sevigny’s. There was a rattle of keys, and the door swung open to reveal my father, and half a dozen of the exiles crammed into the corridor behind him.

  Sevigny slipped past my father and came to kneel beside me. ‘Stay still for a moment,’ he said, wrapping a crude-looking device around my anklet. It appeared to consist of little more than bare circuitry epoxied onto a rubber sheet.

  To my astonishment, the electronic bracelet suddenly unlocked and fell from my ankle. I stared at it, open-mouthed, waiting for the alarm to sound. Yet nothing happened.

  ‘How did you . . . ?’ I paused, noticing for the first time that all the group were lacking their anklets. Indeed, I saw, to my growing shock, that a number of them were even carrying rifles – the same kind used by the guards. Others gripped long knives or short swords that looked as if they had been fashioned on one of the engineering lathes.

  When I saw that some of the blades were stained with blood, I began to understand the import of what was happening.

  I gaped at my father as he helped me to my feet. ‘I lied when I told you there was no point in fighting,’ he said, his voice fervent. ‘Please forgive me, but I had to. The truth is, until you turned up with that second Hypersphere, I was quite convinced the programme would fail and we would all be killed. My only hope had been that by escaping, you and Tomas at least might have some chance at surviving.’