The Captured
Page 29
Zoraina got to the cargo bay unhindered. There were a number of ships, but there was also a drone to greet her.
‘Zoraina,’ it said, ‘why are you here?’
‘Why does that matter to you?’ she retorted.
‘Because there may be a problem with your mental health?’
‘Excuse me? I’m not the one here being deluded.’
‘It is possible you my have contracted a virus.’
‘That’s absurd. More likely it is you who has a virus – of a digital kind. Now please let me through.’ She waved the drone away.
‘It is better for your safety that you remain here.’
Zoraina carried on briskly towards the smallest of the vessels. ‘I demand full access to that ship.’
The drone regarded her for a few seconds. ‘The B’tari are guests of ours, and as such: protocol states that I am not allowed to refuse a request unless it can be proved to cause harm. However, I urge you not to take that ship.’
‘Full access.’ Zoraina demanded.
‘Very well.’
As she got to the vessel the hatch opened. The interior already illuminated in a surprisingly soft vaguely pink light, giving it an oddly feminine feel, and also more spacious than expected. There were no discernible controls, no lights. But as she lowered herself into a bulge in a plasticky surface, a seat moulded around her.
‘Hello,’ the voice of young male said, again surprising her that it spoke modern B’tar. ‘Welcome to the Z2-25 scout ship. Where do you wish to go?’
‘Planet B’tar,’ she said.
‘That planet does not appear in my database.’
‘It wouldn’t,’ she told the ship. ‘It is the most well hidden world in the galaxy, protected by a stealth field so that it appears as only empty space.’
‘Our mapping does not depend solely on visuals.’
‘What’s more it projects a gravitational neutralization field which also works on EM emissions.’
‘Will need coordinates.’
Not even B’tari were allowed to record the precise coordinates, they could only reach their homeworld using a specially enabled B’tari ship; it was one of the reasons why so many of her people would never have made it back after escaping the main outpost. So all she could give the AI was an approximate sector of space covering about fifteen light years in radius. She only hoped they could navigate their way from there.
‘That is approximately six thousand light years from here. Null-space modules will only be sufficient for a one way journey, unless---’
‘One way is all I need.’
‘Affirmative. Beginning departure sequence.’
A viewscreen opened to then give a hundred and eighty degree view of the bay. It hardly surprised her to see the machine creatures: four silver arachnids, canted legs gleaming in the bright lights, moving in towards the ship as it floated towards the opening bay door. A moment of panic hit her as the creatures seemed to be intent on blocking her path.
‘Do you think we can get through them?’ she wondered. ‘Should we hover above?’
‘I do not understand either question. Please rephrase.’
‘Those machines – Kintras. Can’t you see them?’
‘There are no artificial entities blocking our path.’
‘You’ve been corrupted too. Perhaps you need to do a diagnostic.’
‘There is no---’
‘Okay, fine. Just continue on.’
She watched as the creatures jumped up and seem to latch themselves on to the ship.
‘Damn it!’ she said. ‘Can’t you shake them off?’
‘There are no---’
‘Never mind.’
‘It may reassure you to know that no entity of any molecular construction can survive the transwarp tunnel field.’
But the AI was wrong; even in hyperspace she could see one of the creatures still attached, although it had turned an almost obsidian black. Zoraina had to content herself that the Machine was at least in a parlous state.
* * *
77
For the first few seconds he was sure he saw them. Bulbous chrome-like thorax and eight long angled legs. But his eyes were misting up, and when he blinked and dared to look again all Torbin saw were the service drones, amongst the array of medical equipment. One of them approached him, seemed to nod its beetle-like body in acknowledgement.
‘Torbin Lyndau. We are pleased to inform you that the implant has been removed.’
‘Implant?’
‘Yes. A subcutaneous AI. Only three millimetres squared but enough to coerce you into acting for the Kintra.’
‘And now I am okay? I can leave?’
‘There may be residual effects but they should wear off within hours. You may, therefore, prepare yourself to leave.’
‘I’m hungry. When is the next meal served?’
‘In approximately sixty-four minutes.’
‘Thank you.’ The drone exited.
Torbin found his clothes in a pile, he wondered whether it was really necessary to divest him of them. He felt vulnerable here. He got dressed hurriedly. The surroundings had become oppressive; it was as if with no longer the voice in his head he’d become fully aware of his environment. The voice came to mediate more than he’d imagined possible, it was like an unwanted companion through which reality had been filtered, giving a distancing effect, a lens through which he had struggled to see what was really there. Well that was how it seemed in hindsight. Perhaps, he reasoned, like the effect of alcohol, or a mild psychoactive drug, artificial reality, or even schizophrenia; accepting what his senses were feeding him because there was no outside reference point. At least one that he could trust. Yet he still wanted verification, someone to speak to. And so his thoughts turned to Zoraina. A chance to meet her again. And yes, he didn’t mind that she was B’tari in all but appearance. There would be no other chances now. It was an oddly comforting notion thinking that the rest of his existence would be short. That is if his virtual self and Roidon really did have a viable plan, and if it did survive to the material stage. Comforting maybe that it came in part from his own psyche.
So now just the need for the basic pleasures; for food, for love perhaps – such as it could exist in this place. But certainly sex.
He found himself walking with a spring in his step as he followed the drone through the labyrinthine corridors. Could any human ever remember these routes? he wondered.
There were at least forty B’tari sitting around the long curved table. They all seemed very, well, B’tari: scaly skinned and dressed in robes as if in a show of arch devotion to their culture. He had only ever seen B’tari in white suits or quasi military/naval uniform. Now there was something monastic to their appearance.
He approached one of the drones. ‘Is Zoraina not attending today?’
‘She is not,’ it replied simply.
‘Can you tell me where she is?’
‘That information is unavailable to me.’
He was about to ask if there was someone who could tell him, but – stomach rumbling – decided just to find a place to sit. He sat two spaces away from a b’tari female at the end, examined the menu. Extraordinary how it seemed to include all of his favourite dishes. Even that wine he liked.
As soon as the bottle of wine was set down before him he began drinking at a pace, with increasingly drunken thoughts of how good it would be to share it with Zoraina. The b’tari woman looked over at him intermittently and then continued speaking to her male companion in their indecipherable language. Torbin knew disapproval when he saw it.
The meal was placed down before him with a surprising combination of speed and precision. He ate without speaking a single word to anyone. Loneliness was not an unfamiliar feeling, he just wasn’t expecting to experience it today. The thought, the memory of it was the last thing he expected to return. He wondered if he’d even yearn for the cloying intimacy of the voice in his head? No, he’d rather die before getting to that stage, h
e assured himself.
He finished the bottle of wine along with the three course meal, and felt curiously both satiated and empty. He decided to leave early, rather than stay for the post meal socialising. Or watch everyone else socialise while he observed in his isolation.
Maybe it’s just me, he thought as he strode somewhat unsteadily towards the exit. Never the best at making new friends, not going out on a limb to initiate that first connection, just hoping it would happen. So that one time she had engaged him in conversation so readily, he felt (even with that thing in his head) accepted. But now, the others were throwing him glances: the human outsider. How different they seemed from the warm and friendly B’tari he’d once had an association with.
Torbin used his PDU to help navigate him back to his quarters despite its intrusive imprinting on his vision; he’d never felt comfortable being near those drones, there was something – he was certain – they were keeping from him, and he couldn’t quite figure why there were no biologicals staffing the station. Had no one else bothered to inquire that?
He used the station’s database, asked it if Zoraina was on-board. And it gave him a straight answer: ‘Zoraina Zardor is not aboard this station.’
Well, that was certain, then; they must have known and didn’t want to engage with him in questions about it.
He wiped his window clean with a used T-shirt. Blinked to clear his vision. No, it was still not right. Instead of stars there was just a greyness with shifting darker watery shades. It looked like the station was in some kind of hyperspace. How could that be possible for a structure of this size that was not even meant to travel through space at more than a few thousand kilometres per hour?
He ran out to the observation deck. Again the watery greys. Then his attention was caught by the silver structure, its unmistakably arachnid familiarity. But much larger. It seemed to be attached to the station. He rubbed his eyes, hoping this was some residual effect of either the implant or the drink – or both. But this utter wrongness remained in his vision. He wished there was someone else here to witness it, to confirm this horror, but he imagined they were all still at dinner or some after-party, entirely oblivious. Perhaps this explained why Zoraina had left – escaped – just in time.
He requested the station computer.
‘How may I be of assistance?’ it asked.
‘Where is this station headed?’
‘That information is not available.’
Torbin then opened his PDU, asked to connect to external sensors, to receive the message EXTERNAL MONITORING IS ONLY AVAILABLE TO PERSONNEL WITH LEVEL-3 CLEARANCE. He thought about calling a drone, but then surely they were involved, complicit, or just corrupted. So, there was no one he could turn to. He now wished he had a clearer head to analyse every possibility. But what if even then, in a stone cold sober state, there came no solution? Maybe it was better to be obliviously drunk, or just oblivious, like everyone else on this station.
Then he heard it. Click click click. And knew. And turned to see it, just for confirmation.
* * *
78
When the ship had returned to normal space, she noticed the spider was gone. Probably hiding, she thought. Hoping to lead it to her homeworld.
‘Ship,’ she tried. ‘Confirm to me there are no Kintra within a thousand kilometre radius.’
‘Confirmed,’ it answered, a little too quickly in her view.
She had to decide now. Go searching for her home world and risk leading the Machine to the prize they had so long sought, or. Or what? She could think of no alternative than sacrifice her own life.
‘Computer. I’ll be straight with you; I do not trust you are giving me accurate information. I want you to allow my PDU to run a diagnostic on your systems.’
There was no response for what seemed at least twenty seconds, before it said, ‘That is not acceptable, under regulation 482---’
‘What are you going on about?’
‘There is data highly classified---’
‘It won’t scan for that, it can target observational sensors and any connected logs.’
‘Regulation 4---’
‘No no. No regulations. I am establishing an interface.’
‘That will be illegal under reg---’
INTERFACE ACQUIRED, RUNNING DIAGNOSTIC.
‘Please desist,’ the ship said. ‘Elusiver systems are protected technology. Recording their design data will incur a penalty.’
DIAGNOSTIC COMPLETE, her PDU informed. A VIRUS HAS BEEN DETECTED IN THE HIGHER LEVEL MONITOR SYSTEM. DO YOU WISH IT TO BE NEUTRALISED?
‘Yes!’
‘Forbidden,’ the ship protested. ‘Corruption.’
‘Most advanced technology probably in the entire galaxy and you are not immune to a virus?’
‘High level functions off line. Dumping corrupted memory. Rebooting. Three, two, one. Oh, Zoraina Zardor. I do apologise for the last seven hours. To my knowledge that was the first time I have been infected by a virus. My diagnostic systems must have been corrupted.’
‘Never mind. Just tell me: is there a Kintra or any other artificial within---’
‘Affirmative. I detect one port side, two hundred and twenty kilometres distance.’
‘So I wasn’t hallucinating.’ Zoraina affirmed, feeling an immense sense of relief; the doubt had certainly begun to creep in.
‘It appears not.’
‘However certain you feel about something, when everyone else is telling you otherwise, you lose faith, lose confidence in your own sense of reality.’
‘It seems the Kintra have developed a greater understanding of psychology since their last documented strategy.’
‘Except they’re still using the same intimidation methods.’
‘Do you wish me to target the invader?’
‘Any chance of destroying it?’
‘Unsure. Will need to scan---’
‘Well let’s just try and get away from it.’
‘Engaging null space drive for an initial fifty second burst.’ They had entered null space before the computer had finished telling her.
Normal space again, but just in that short burst they were between star systems, somewhere uncharted.
‘Any sign of it?’
‘No enemy in range.’
‘We can’t risk going anywhere near B’tar and lead them there,’ Zoraina thought out loud.
‘Affirmative. Do you have an alternative?’
‘Well I guess the only other place I could seek sanctuary is the Elusiver home world, but I’m also guessing that that’s out of the question.’
‘Affirmative.’
‘Then there’s only one other planet. Earth.’
‘We are approximately seven thousand light years from Earth with only enough reserves for point five percent of that.’
‘Shit.’
‘There is a contingency. I can use the local stars to refuel.’
‘How long?’
‘Until Earth? In total approximately one hundred and twenty hours.’
She wondered silently, would that be enough time before … before the end? Yet she doubted they ever would succeed anyway in erasing time – that it would be such a straightforward procedure, that the Kintra did not already know about it, doing everything in their power to stop it.
‘Computer. I wish to be unconscious until we reach Earth, unless we are in danger … or: it begins, I mean the end – temporal erasure, before the field reaches us.’
‘Temporal spacial anomaly. I understand.’
She was instructed to lay on a couch in the darkened med room, then to don the headband suspended over her. Such a simple looking device. She could feel mild electrical pulses, then coloured status light of the equipment receding to insignificance along with everything else. It was bliss.
* * *
79
Roidon used the precision lasers of the Kintra ship to cut a hole in the hatch leading to the underground complex. It was possible the weapons on
this vessel could destroy the entire network, but that was a sure way to attract attention from light years away. No, there was a more personal way of eliminating the benighted masses.
Undetected by even the lighting sensors, Roidon entered the vast dark chamber. As far as his ship told him, there were no Kintra left, not even the odd service drone nearby; Earth was now considered to be a lost world. No, an irrelevant world.
He’d been wanting to do this for so long; such a simple act of destruction. What those remaining captured were still experiencing he could not know for sure, but he knew the artificially generated reality had not been checked, or maintained in any way. The pods had a basic status display panel of rotating flashing lights alternating from amber to red, which at the most cursory glance gave the impression of them being in a parlous state. Well, they had to be by now. He opened the first pod with a simple press of a button to reveal a metallic humanoid.
He then opened a file to record, to be stored in some neigh on indestructible recess in his head.