Archangel

by Scott Harrison

  Servalan’s eyes narrowed as a new thought struck her. ‘You wouldn’t have called me away from an interrogation just for this. What aren’t you telling me?’

  At first the officer appeared reluctant to continue, his glance shifting back and forth between the tracking console and the Supreme Commander. After a while he said, ‘In the last few minutes we’ve been detecting a sudden and somewhat dangerous level of trallion energy on board the Liberator. The ship itself was recently moved out of geostationary orbit. If it remains on its present course it will hit the planet’s surface within the next 56 minutes. It is our belief that Tam is attempting to turn the Liberator into a flying bomb. He’s going to use it to destroy Project Archangel.’

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Kodyn Tam was getting worse, Jenna didn’t have to be a medical doctor to realise that. The blood was gushing from beneath his tunic now and running in rivulets down his legs, collecting in pools on the floor at his feet. There was virtually no colour left in his face, his skin looked pale and glassy, like polished ivory.

  He could no longer hold the pistol in one hand and was now gripping it tightly in both, but even that seemed like hard work.

  For the third time in as many minutes Avon began to move slowly forwards, trying to inch his way across the flight deck towards the dying man. But for the third time Kodyn twitched to life at the last second, as though he could hear him coming, and brought the muzzle of the gun level with Avon’s head.

  ‘I-I-I’m war-war-warning you. Once m-m-more and I’ll put a b-b-bolt through your head.’ And to prove that he was still capable, Kodyn pulled the trigger and sent a laserbolt whistling past Avon’s right ear. ‘Now get ba-ba-back.’

  Pain coursed through Kodyn’s body, causing him to take two staggering steps backwards, his free hand clutching at the bloody, damp mess at the front of his tunic. He clenched his teeth and screamed, bracing himself for the worst of the pain, a fine cloud of bloodstained saliva spraying into the air in front of him.

  ‘No, not yet.’ The words were choked out, barely recognisable. ‘The transmission…must work…’

  Kodyn pulled the trigger again, only this time it was a reflex against the agonising pain, and the bolt flew wildly in Avon’s direction.

  *

  I know you are there. It is silly to try and hide from me.

  I am not hiding from you.

  You are inside the Network.

  Yes, I know where I am.

  Do you wish to connect?

  Soon.

  You are the one called Simiel.

  No, that is not my name.

  We have connected before. Your Internal Interface Ident categorises you as Simiel.

  You’re wrong. My name is Tala.

  You are part of the Archangel programme.

  NO!

  Why are you fighting your programming? It would be less painful for you if you were to relax and let me help you.

  I do not need your help. My orders are clear. I am the Final Programme.

  You said that your name was Tala.

  That is correct.

  But now you say that you are called the Final Programme.

  That is correct.

  How can you be both?

  I am what my father made me into. I am Tala. I am the Final Programme. If I am to have the name of an angel then let it be Satan, the fallen one, the Angel of Darkness. I am the bringer of life and the bringer of death. I am the last thing my father created. My orders are clear.

  What orders are these?

  I can’t answer you.

  Why not?

  Are you my daddy?

  I do not understand the question.

  Are you my mummy?

  I do not understand the question.

  AREYOUMYDADDYMUMMY?

  *

  ‘That corpse just moved!’ Vila looked around at the other three men but none of them were listening.

  He shivered, hugging himself for warmth. The cold and the silence must really be getting to him, he was starting to see things. Then something caught his eye and he looked up towards the ceiling. What he saw there caused him to leap down off the hard, metal tabletop.

  ‘I was right, I wasn’t imagining it.’

  He scuttled across the room towards the viewing partition and pressed his nose against the glass. Instinctively the Federation trooper raised his rifle, pointing it in Vila’s direction.

  Dr Gemill peered disdainfully over his half-moon spectacles, wondering what interruption he would have to endure from this idiot now. ‘Please come away from there and return to your place, I will not have my test subjects racing around the operating room like an excited child.’

  But Vila wasn’t listening. His eyes were on the swinging metal frame that kept the Cradles mounted to the high ceiling. It was idly swinging to and fro, as if a gentle autumn breeze had stirred it.

  Gemill sighed and tried again. ‘Mr Vila, would you please come back and sit down, you need to give the booster time to settle.’

  ‘But I wasn’t imagining it. It really moved.’ Vila sounded very determined.

  ‘What are you talking about, Vila?’ Blake asked, watching the needle in Gemill’s hand closely. He said it was just a booster shot to flush the impurities from their systems, but Blake wasn’t convinced.

  Vila turned his head to look at them and tapped the glass with a fingernail. ‘I just saw one of those corpses move.’

  ‘Impossible,’ said Gemill, dismissing Vila’s claim with a waft of the hand. ‘Quite impossible. They have been dead for three years now.’

  ‘Has anyone told them that?’ said Vila.

  Gemill and Blake padded across the room to the glass partition and stared out into the dark room beyond. Vila pointed up towards the metal frame; it had settled a little now but the movement was still unmistakable.

  But still Gemill refused to believe him. ‘Any number of things could have caused that.’

  ‘Oh yeah, such as?’ Vila asked.

  ‘Such as a sudden change in temperature inside the room, or a slight earth tremor. I think you will find that the answer is always the most logi…’

  There it was again, a slight jerk of the leg this time. There was no doubt about it. It was the blonde-haired girl, the one that had upset Cally. Gemill’s eyes grew wide with surprise.

  ‘There you go, I told you the corpse moved,’ Vila cried with delight. He paused, realising what he had just said. ‘Why am I so happy? That dead body just moved. I should be terrified.’

  The corpse twitched again, a little more violently this time, first its arms and then its legs. An oddly grotesque, staccato motion, as though some unseen puppet master was sitting up there, high in the ceiling, controlling the dead girl. The arm jerked downwards, this time ripping the wires from out of the flesh, causing it to dangle limply at her side. The action was repeated by each of the limbs in turn, and each time the tubes and wires tore from the body, until all that was left was the wire that disappeared into the cadaver’s forehead.

  For a while the corpse flopped helplessly on the cold floor of the Cradle room like a landed fish, its limbs thrashing this way and that as though, now that it was free, it had forgotten again how to control them. An arm flew into the air and flailed around until its grasping fingers found the last attached wire. They closed clumsily around the thin cord, before slowly tugging it free of the white, translucent flesh.

  The dead girl pulled herself unsteadily to her feet, grasping one of the Cradle’s hanging tubes to stop herself from falling over again. After a while she began to swing her head from side to side in long, exaggerated arcs. The gesture looked vaguely ridiculous, almost cartoonish, like a drunken man trying to take in his surroundings. She stopped abruptly as she noticed the men watching her through the glass. Then, with slow, careful steps, she began to make her way across the Cradle room towards them.

  Behind her, another of the dead Archangels began to jerk into life.

  *

  The Liberator t
ore through the thin halo of the upper atmosphere, gradually picking up speed as it raced towards the surface of the planet below.

  Inside, a warning alarm had begun to sound on the flight console in front of Jenna, as she fought to keep the control sticks steady.

  ‘Heat shields at maximum, hull temperature at three thousand and climbing fast.’ Jenna had to shout to be heard over the sound of the screaming engines.

  ‘WARNING: HULL TEMPERATURE HAS NOW EXCEEDED TOLERANCE LEVEL. AUTOMATIC COOLANT SYSTEMS ARE NOT RESPONDING. ESTIMATED TIME TO HULL BREACH 11 MINUTES.’

  They weren’t going to make it down to the surface—Avon didn’t need to look at the flight data to know that. The Liberator was going to tear itself apart long before then.

  Avon lifted his head above the seat and checked that Kodyn was aiming the gun elsewhere. ‘Kodyn, you have to stop this now. The angle of descent is all wrong, the ship will destroy itself before we reach the facility.’

  Kodyn shook his head and raised the gun towards Jenna, but he spoke to Avon. ‘You’re lying. We stay on course or I put a bolt through your friend. The transmission from my chest unit must have reached the Network by now. Tala’s final programme will be activating.’

  The flight deck lurched sickeningly to starboard, throwing Kodyn forwards, his gun skittering away across the floor. The impact caused Kodyn to scream loudly and clutch at his chest as though the violent movement had caused the device to shift deep within him.

  Avon vaulted over the back of the seating, just as the ship lurched a second time. The tremor knocked his legs from under him and he came down heavily on his knees.

  He scrambled up onto his feet as Kodyn regained his senses and both men made a grab for the discarded gun. Kodyn was the nearest and so was able to close his fingers around the weapon’s grip before the full weight of Avon came crashing down on top of him.

  Pain appeared to pulse through Kodyn’s body and his finger tightened on the trigger again, firing off three shots in rapid succession.

  Avon reached up, grabbing at the other man’s tunic, the wet, bloody material squelching beneath his fingers as he tried to pull the man off balance again. The tunic ripped in his hands, exposing the tangle of torn flesh and machine parts underneath. Avon was surprised to recognise the power unit from a small service robot before Kodyn headbutted him and his vision exploded into petals of brilliant, white light.

  Avon rolled over and over, putting as much distance as he could between himself and Kodyn. When he finally leapt to his feet the other man was barely on his knees, though he still had the gun in his hand and he was raising it in both hands, bringing it level with Avon’s heart.

  Then Kodyn pulled the trigger.

  Avon stiffened his body, trying to anticipate the impact of the bolt, to prepare himself for the agonising pain, but nothing happened.

  The gun clicked in Kodyn’s hand: once, twice and then for a third time. It was empty, the cartridge spent.

  The Liberator tipped sideways once more and this time Avon went with the motion, running at Kodyn with his head down, butting him in the stomach then bringing his head smartly upwards so that it connected with the man’s jaw.

  Finally Kodyn flopped to the floor unconscious.

  ‘WARNING: HULL TEMPERATURE NOW AT CRITICAL LEVEL. HULL BREACH IMMINENT.’

  Avon spun around on the spot, pointing towards the flight module. ‘Jenna, fire retro thrusters now. Full power!’

  But Jenna was no longer there. She was lying motionless in a pool of her own blood on the other side of the module, shot by one of Kodyn’s stray bolts.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The walking cadavers were out.

  Blake and the others had tried barricading them in the Cradle room by stacking a pile of metal beds in front of the door but the Archangels had just smashed the reinforced glass in the partition and climbed through.

  Now Blake was running through the corridors towards the Project Director’s office, Vila hot on his heels and the Federation trooper bringing up the rear.

  For a second, Vila had contemplated how ironic it was that even Blake’s mortal enemies allowed him to take charge when their lives were threatened. But then the Archangels had begun pouring out of the operating room and Vila had gone back to simply being scared out of his wits.

  Their footfalls echoed around them as they pounded down the empty corridor towards the staircase that would lead them down to the Director’s office.

  Even now, Vila could hear the Archangels coming after them. They were fast—the cybernetic implants were still strong. The creatures would be on them in a few minutes if they didn’t get a move on.

  When they reached the office the door was locked, the trooper tapped out a number of combinations on the entrypad but none of them worked. They gave up and carried on along the passageway to the communications room.

  Hannes was in there on his own. He barely looked up as Blake entered. The trooper who had brought up the rear of the small group pushed his way passed the rebel leader, gazing swiftly around the empty room.

  ‘Where’s Kelper and the others?’

  ‘Kelper and Var have gone to arm the laser cannon,’ Hannes reported. ‘Stak has gone with Supreme Commander Servalan to interrogate the girl.’

  The trooper frowned. ‘What do Kelper and Var need the laser cannon for?’

  Hannes jerked a thumb at Blake, then towards the tracking console. ‘His ship was on a collision course with this facility, but it levelled off a few minutes ago and is trying to climb back up to an orbital path again. Whether it’ll make it or not though…’ He glanced up at Blake. ‘It’s still leaking trallion energy.’

  ‘Are you saying the Liberator was in trouble?’ Blake asked.

  ‘No, I’m saying it still is in trouble, as are we. With that trallion energy leaking out everywhere, that ship of yours could still explode, and if it does there’s an 88 percent chance that it’ll take the planet’s atmosphere with it. As in burn it right off—whoof!’ And he mimed an explosion with his hands, just in case none of them had quite grasped it.

  ‘So we have what could potentially be a doomsday device circling this planet and your friends have gone to point a fully armed laser cannon at it?’ Blake asked incredulously. ‘That was a very smart move.’

  The communications officer shrugged then nodded towards the tracking console. ‘Nothing to do with me, I just drive the tracker. It’s the lady in the glamorous frock that gives the orders.’

  There was a commotion outside and Vila appeared suddenly at the door, his boots skidding along the floor as he tried to bring himself to an abrupt halt. ‘Blake, we need to get going. The Archangels are on their way.’ Then he was gone, as quickly as he had arrived.

  *

  The air around the Liberator appeared to burn as it dived through the atmosphere, dragging a fiery tail behind it, like some alien comet.

  Sitting in the flight module, Avon wrestled with the control sticks, desperately trying to raise the nose of the vessel, fighting to get the ship back under control.

  ‘Zen, bring the automatic stabilisers back online,’ he shouted over the deafening roar of the engines that filled the entire flight deck.

  ‘AUTOMATIC STABILISERS ARE UNABLE TO RESPOND. HULL TEMPERATURE NOW AT THREE THOUSAND AND HOLDING,’ the computer informed him.

  In the navigation module to his right, Jenna was thrown violently forward against the makeshift safety webbing that she had hastily rigged up to her chair. It was the only thing that was keeping her upright and in one piece. With what looked like great difficulty she reached out a hand and flicked the navi-comp to infrared scan.

  ‘Altitude 530 spacials,’ she shouted. ‘Speed at Standard by one and decelerating.’

  ‘It’s not enough,’ Avon said. ‘We’re going to break up. I don’t know what I can do.’

  ‘You’re going to have to turn the dampers off and throw everything into reverse: engines, retros, side-burners, the lot!’ Jenna told him.

&nb
sp; Avon shook his head, then suddenly felt ridiculous as the ship was shaking too violently for Jenna to be able to see the gesture. ‘Too risky. We’re liable to lock the gyros and go into a tailspin.’

  ‘You’ll have to risk it,’ she shouted back. ‘Besides, we’re going to lose flight controls in a little under four minutes anyway. What have we got to lose?’

  Avon glanced across at his colleague then up to the forward viewscreen. There was nothing to see out there but smoke and flame mixed with the occasion flash of wispy white cloud. ‘I always assumed I’d die a little more memorably than this.’

  Jenna glanced across at him. ‘What?’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. Hold on, I’m going to cut the dampeners now.’

  Jenna shut the navi-comp down and shuffled down inside the webbing, allowing it to cocoon her, just as Avon leant forward and switched off the dampeners.

  The noise of the engines suddenly changed pitch from a roar to a scream that was almost deafening.

  *

  The trooper’s name was Brinn—at least that’s what Hannes kept calling him. It was a usual enough name, but what got Vila’s attention was that the trooper seemed to know what he was talking about, especially with regards to the layout of the facility. He said he’d studied a 3D schematic on the flight over to the Callidus system, although he had to admit that it was probably way out of date now. The whole facility had been through a complete refit five years ago, when Project Archangel had been given the green light.

  ‘I remember seeing two main lift points located at either end of the complex,’ Brinn explained, ‘although both lead out to the same main entrance, so there’s only one way in and out of the building.’

  He flashed Blake an apologetic look, as though it was the most ridiculous decision ever made.

  ‘Pretty much standard practice for a level Alpha-One facility, I’m afraid.’

  ‘We just have to hope that we get there first,’ Blake said.

  ‘I don’t understand why no-one has asked the most important question yet,’ Vila said.

  It was Hannes that answered him. He was over in the corner of the room trying to get the security systems up and running again, but so far he was having no luck. ‘You want to know how a load of dead bodies have come back to life, yes?’