Atlantia Series 1: Survivor

by Dean Crawford

  Qayin pulled away from the camera and looked at somebody off screen.

  Idris saw Alpha Zero Seven move into view. In her hand was what looked like a welding torch.

  ‘Do him,’ Qayin ordered. ‘Take your time over it.’

  ***

  IX

  Alpha Zero Seven glanced at the screen where the captain’s tired old features stared back at her. That he was helpless to recover control of the situation was clear to her. The command of Atlantia Five had probably been his last before retirement and he seemed to lack the resolve needed to stand up to Qayin.

  She turned, the torch in one hand as she strode out of the prison’s command centre and down the passage outside toward the cell block. The air felt colder once again and the uniform still unwieldy and heavy as she moved, passing through the now open gates. Nobody from the command centre followed her. Despite their bravado she knew that even hardened convicts were still human beings, and despite their reputation few had much stomach for torture.

  She forced her weighty boots to keep moving against the magnetic forces pulling them toward the floor, her heart beating a little faster from more than just the exertion of walking down the passageway.

  She reached the cell block control tower, the door now propped open by Qayin’s men. She walked through and saw the marine floating upside down in his chair, his hair flowing like blond water in the zero gravity, his young body smooth and virtually hairless. Officer C’rairn.

  He turned his head and his handsome features crumbled as a tiny sound of fear escaped from his lips.

  ‘Don’t do this,’ he whimpered.

  She turned and kicked the prop from the door so that it closed almost completely behind her, just the prop preventing it from sealing them both in. The door clunked against the metal, the sound echoing through the haunted cell block.

  She turned back to C’rairn and approached him.

  ‘Please,’ he blubbed, tears filling his eyes. ‘I have a baby daughter, please.’

  She held the torch up in her hand and activated it. A fierce blue light flared into life, crackling and snarling at the end of a finger–length metallic probe.

  ‘Do him, now!’

  Qayin’s voice snapped over the communications link up in the control tower.

  She reached out, the officer’s hair floating as she grabbed it and yanked him toward her. ‘Please, no,’ C’rairn begged, his tears floating upward in rippling spheres of liquid as they broke free from his eyes.

  She stared at him through the slits of her mask and then pushed the torch hard toward him.

  *

  C’rairn’s hellish screams broke out of the speakers and soared through the Atlantia’s bridge. Idris winced as he glimpsed a shower of blood spilling out around Alpha’s body as she worked on the officer, whose inverted seat blocked the view of the horrendous injuries he was suffering.

  ‘Shut it off!’ he bellowed across the bridge.

  Jerren cut the feed off. The screams of the officer seemed to echo through the bridge long after the screen went blank, and Idris realised that Qayin had a monitor playing the same scene in the governor’s command centre that could still be heard over the intercom on the bridge, the dying officer’s strangled cries of agony drifting away into silence.

  Qayin tutted and shook his head as he glanced at the unseen monitor and its gruesome images. ‘She’s a fearsome animal, isn’t she? I wonder what she’ll do once she really gets warmed up?’

  Idris jumped out of his chair and pointed at Qayin as he shouted.

  ‘I’ll have you pay for this, Qayin! I’ll have you torn limb from limb and fed to your men!’

  ‘Now you’re talking like a captain,’ Qayin sneered at the screen.

  ‘Cut them loose, now!’ Hevel snarled at the captain. ‘Before they murder anybody else!’

  Idris seemed to shake on the spot as though tremors were rippling through his entire body, fresh rage encased in a shell of old age. Then he whirled and pointed at the communications officer.

  ‘Open a channel, all frequencies, open speakers!’

  Aranna obeyed as Qayin chuckled at the screen. ‘There’s nobody else out there to help you, captain.’

  Idris grinned cruelly at the image of Qayin. ‘No, so I’ll just have to help my damned self.’

  Dhalere stepped forward. ‘Captain, what are you going to do?’

  ‘What needs to be done.’

  ‘May I remind you,’ Dhalere said, ‘that you are by law required to conform to the standards of the colonial district…’

  Idris turned his back to Dhalere and looked at the communications officer, Aranna, who nodded.

  ‘The channel is open, captain, to the entire prison hull.’

  ‘Gentlemen,’ Idris said loudly, ‘of the prison ship, I have an offer for you, for any man strong enough and smart enough. I offer a full amnesty, on my word and on that of my officers and command, to any of you able to liberate my staff and bring them safely home here to the Atlantia. And Qayin with them.’ Idris smiled grimly. ‘Dead or alive.’

  *

  Qayin whirled, one hand flashing to the pistol at his belt as he drew it and aimed at the nearest man to him. He fired without a moment’s hesitation, before the hapless inmate had even realised what was about to happen, and the convict’s head was blasted from his shoulders by the plasma round in a gruesome mess that splattered across the man sitting next to him.

  The blood–soaked man promptly vomited onto his boots, his face plastered with blood and brain.

  ‘Try it!’ Qayin bellowed to the convicts around him. ‘Any man among you, try it!’

  Qayin turned, sweeping the bridge with his pistol and daring any man to move before yelling at the convict manning the communications console.

  ‘Shut him off!’

  The link to the Atlantia’s bridge was terminated, the captain’s features vanishing as Qayin slowly turned, the pistol still pointing out in front of him.

  ‘Let’s make one thing real clear,’ he growled, his tattoos pulsing with light, ‘any man even thinks about crossing me, I’ll do things to them that’ll make what’s being done down in the cell block look real nice, you understand me?’

  C’rairn’s screams echoed through the command centre and then trailed off into a final, keening wail of unimaginable pain as the sound of the crackling welding torch finally snapped out.

  ‘What do we do now?’ Cutler asked, glancing briefly at the headless torso now smouldering in a seat nearby. ‘The captain just played us out of moves.’

  ‘We’ve still got the hostages.’

  ‘So?’ Cutler almost laughed. ‘You heard the captain, they’re willing to walk away.’

  Qayin scowled at Cutler, but he did not reply.

  Moments later a figure appeared at the door to the command centre. Qayin turned to see Alpha standing in the doorway. Her uniform was caked in a bloody mess, the torch in her hand trailing gloops of blood that drifted in the air, and her mask was splattered with human remains.

  ‘Is he dead?’ Cutler asked her.

  Qayin cursed under his breath. ‘Who cares?’

  Alpha stood in the doorway and nodded once. Cutler shook his head. ‘That’s it then, we’re played out.’

  ‘Will you shut up?’ Qayin snapped. ‘If one of their people is dead it might be enough to make them take us seriously.’

  ‘It might be enough for them to take us out altogether,’ Cutler snapped back. ‘We should have handled this better.’

  ‘There is no we!’

  ‘Again,’ Cutler smiled coldly, ‘that’s the problem.’

  A voice from across the control centre called out. ‘Orbital velocity has increased by a factor of four. We’re sinking real fast here.’

  Qayin stared at the monitor where the captain’s face had been and then at Alpha where she stood with the bloodied welding torch in her hand.

  ‘Send them the body,’ he growled at her. ‘Give them something else to think about.’

/>   Alpha turned and stalked silently away down the passage outside the bridge.

  ‘She gives me the creeps,’ Cutler uttered.

  Qayin watched Alpha leave.

  ‘You and me both, man.’

  *

  Alpha walked back into the cell block and got to work.

  She unstrapped the officer’s body from the seat and folded him over, concealing the bloodied mess on his stomach, and then used the straps to tie him up into a neat ball that she then pushed in front of her through the air as she walked back toward the control centre.

  Instead of pushing the body through the control centre, she followed the signs around it to the for’ard airlocks, where the prison hull’s tenuous links to the Atlantia were. Several armed inmates guarding the hatches saw her coming with her grisly package and they stepped silently out of her way.

  Four huge, heavy sealed hatches awaited her. The two outermost hatches were topped with red flashing lights that indicated they were sealed against the vacuum of space, disconnected as they always were. Of the two innermost, one was solid red, indicating an unsafe seal.

  Only one was indicating green.

  Alpha stopped and looked up at an observation camera, then waited.

  Moments later, the airlock door hissed and slowly began to open.

  Ahead was a passageway, lined with silvery thermal insulation that led toward the Atlantia. Illuminated only by small panels in the ceiling, she could see at the far end armed marines behind a similar hatch.

  They watched her through a screen, their weapons held ready, as she guided the bundled body of the correctional officer into the passage and then pushed him hard. The corpse floated directly toward the far end of the passage, revolving slowly, as Alpha stepped back out and looked up at the camera again.

  The door hissed shut as she watched the officer’s naked, bloodied body float slowly toward his comrades.

  *

  Captain Idris Sansin paced up and down his bridge, his crew giving him a wide berth.

  ‘I did not see that coming.’

  Hevel watched the captain with an expression of admiration as he walked up and down, his hands behind his back and his head bowed as he moved.

  ‘You said it yourselves,’ the captain replied, ‘the prisoners are ruthless, cruel and self–serving – I just decided to use that against them.’

  Hevel smiled tightly. ‘Still, it’s a very risky course of action and could lead to…’

  ‘Every course of action is risky now, Hevel!’ the captain roared, silencing the staff on the bridge around them. ‘We have but hours to live!’

  ‘I know,’ Hevel uttered, ‘and I understand that our choices are limited, but turning them against each other puts our own people at even greater risk and you’ve already lost one of them.’

  The captain stopped pacing and stared at Hevel. ‘I’ve lost one of them?’

  ‘I didn’t mean it like that.’

  ‘Yes, you did,’ Idris replied. ‘You think that I’m responsible, don’t you?’

  The silence on the bridge deepened. Dhalere stepped in for the councillor once more.

  ‘I think that we are all responsible in our own way, sir.’

  Idris glared at Hevel. ‘Would you think yourself more capable in my stead?’

  Hevel’s back straightened and he raised his chin. ‘No, of course not.’

  ‘Good,’ Idris said as he walked closer to Hevel, his voice dropping to a whisper, ‘because left to you all of those hostages would be dead, would they not?’

  The captain looked into Hevel’s unblinking eyes and saw the repressed shame festering within. The councillor looked as though he was about to say something when Bra’hiv rushed onto the bridge.

  ‘Sir!’ The captain and the first officer turned together as Bra’hiv waved for them to follow him. ‘You need to see this.’

  Idris shot Hevel a final dirty look before he turned and hurried after Bra’hiv, Andaim joining them as they rushed off the bridge and down a long, descending passageway.

  ‘What is it?’ Idris asked as they reached a small transport cart attached to a tubular rail system that ran the circumference of the Atlantia’s vast hull.

  ‘The hostage, C’rairn,’ Bra’hiv replied as they climbed aboard the transport cart and it hummed into motion. ‘Alpha Zero Seven handed him over.’

  Idris sighed wearily. ‘I think that I’ve seen enough blood for one day.’

  Bra’hiv, controlling the throttle of the cart as it hummed along the rail, shook his head.

  ‘You’ve got to see it to believe it, sir.’

  After a minute’s travel the cart slowed as it reached the Atlantia’s stern and a series of airlock hatches that led to the prison hull. All four security hatches were sealed, all inoperative save a single one with a green light above it. The active door was sealed, however, using hydraulic rams monitored by a dozen armed marines who were now huddled around something on the floor between them. Bra’hiv slowed the cart and climbed out with the captain, Andaim behind them.

  Idris slowly approached the group of soldiers, who all stood back to let him through.

  Idris drew a deep breath as he saw the first sight of flesh smeared with blood, and then he gasped. He found himself looking down into a pair of gleaming eyes, those of a young man in the prime of his life.

  Idris tried to open his mouth to speak but the young officer got there first.

  ‘She faked it,’ C’rairn said as tears sprung afresh from his eyes, this time of joy. ‘She got me out, sir. Alpha Zero Seven, she’s on our side.’

  ***

  X

  ‘Who is she?’

  Idris strode as fast as he could onto the bridge, Andaim alongside him and Hevel waiting with a suspicious expression pasted onto his features.

  ‘Who is whom?’ he asked.

  ‘Alpha Zero Seven,’ the captain snapped. ‘Tell me everything.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Hevel shrugged and looked at Dhalere. The dark skinned woman spoke from memory.

  ‘High security prisoner, Castaway Protocol,’ she said. ‘She was sent to Atlantia Five after a closed–door trial by the Word. Full stasis orders, restraining mask, everything. Her file is closed and classified.’

  The captain glanced around him. The bridge was a hive of activity as staff worked to find a solution to the vessel’s orbital decline.

  ‘How far have we got?’ he demanded of his technical staff as they pored together over a series of charts on one side of the bridge.

  A tall, thin man with a hooked nose glanced up.

  ‘Nowhere but down,’ he replied.

  ‘How long?’ Andaim asked.

  ‘Less than two days,’ the thin man replied. ‘Every passing moment becomes more critical.’

  Idris turned to Andaim. ‘Then all we have is that woman, Alpha Zero Seven.’

  ‘That’s insane,’ Hevel snapped. ‘She’s a mass murderer, a born killer!’

  ‘He’s right, captain,’ Dhalere agreed. ‘Alpha–Zero–Seven is one of the greatest–risk prisoners every carried by an orbital prison. If she is presented with even the slightest opportunity for escape she will kill without remorse, as she has already done in the prison hull.’

  Behind them Officer C’rairn walked in, thermal blankets wrapped around his shoulders and his wife holding him through tears and smiles. Hevel and Dhalere’s jaws dropped as they stared at the marine. The guards with him guided him to the captain’s chair, where he was sat down with a steaming mug in his hand.

  ‘How are you doing, son?’ Idris asked him.

  ‘I’ll be fine,’ C’rairn replied, clearly shaken by his ordeal but rallying fast.

  ‘Good,’ the captain said. ‘Look, I know it’s a bit soon but we need to know what’s happening down there.’

  C’rairn nodded.

  ‘Fifteen hostages all being held in the office block, everybody restrained using their own cuffs. The prisoners got free from their cells after the blast but before the fires t
ook hold. We tried to fight them off but there were too many.’

  ‘They took the control tower?’ Hevel asked.

  C’rairn nodded. ‘We lost a lot of good men, sir, and the governor’s dead.’

  ‘Qayin?’ the captain asked.

  ‘He led them,’ C’rairn replied. ‘They stormed the tower, broke through to the for’ard sections using the captured officer’s passes and keys. We were making a retreat under fire when the cell block was cleansed.’ C’rairn looked up. ‘Did you order that, sir?’

  Idris tensed, his jaw grinding as he glanced at Hevel.

  ‘No, I did,’ Hevel said. ‘There was a danger of breaching in both hulls. We had to end it as fast as we could, once the fires started.’

  C’rairn stared at the councillor for a long moment.

  Idris kept his expression as neutral as he could. ‘What happened next?’

  ‘Qayin offered us terms,’ C’rairn replied. ‘Surrender and we’d be spared. We had nowhere to run and were both outgunned and outnumbered, with little ammunition left. Qayin disarmed us, then the bastard shot Feyer in the head as a warning to the rest of us not to cross him. We’ve been locked up in an office block ever since.’

  ‘Until Alpha Zero Seven,’ Dhalere said.

  C’rairn nodded, his grip on his mug tightening.

  ‘They stripped me, put me in the chair, said that you’d told them they could do what they liked to us, but they’d never get into Atlantia.’ C’rairn looked up at the captain and his voice cracked. ‘I figured that was a lie, sir, but then she turned up with the torch in her hand and I knew I was done for.’

  ‘Alpha Zero Seven,’ Idris said. ‘What do you know about her?’

  ‘Apart from the fact that she just saved my life?’ C’rairn asked. ‘Nothing. All we’ve ever been told is that she’s the most dangerous woman ever to have lived. She’s been on permanent lock–down since we left home, on life–support in a survival capsule. Nobody, but nobody, ever goes near her.’