by Erin Hayes
Even make a deal with a virus that can wipe out everyone and everything.
Consciousness comes back to me bit by bit. I keep myself very still, blanking out my mind as much as possible and using my mechanical side to help me appear as unconscious as possible.
I don’t listen in on the androids speaking—they’re not really talking right now, which is fine. They must only interact with each other in a verbal way for humans.
Whichever it is, I don’t really care. I just know that the longer I stay awake and let the effects of the antivirus wear off, the more chance I have for success.
I only get one shot at this. If I screw it up, I won’t get another chance.
Look at me, working for a virus as opposed to a corporation now. I don’t have many scruples, it seems.
I hear the monitors beep and the androids’ steady footsteps as they work in the lab. They don’t pay attention to me, as they’re wrapped up in their own work and thoughts.
It feels oddly quiet in my brain, even as I’m trying to keep myself from thinking too much. After having a conversation with the virus—still, I wonder if I’m insane for thinking it’s real—it feels like there’s a lot of room for my thoughts. I wonder if it will always feel empty after having another presence felt within there.
The footsteps come near me, almost like the androids are curious as to why I haven’t woken up yet.
Now. I need to do it now!
I open my eyes.
“The subject is awake,” the android calls out. I see her face hover over me.
“Twenty-five hours that time,” the other says, out of view. “The improvement to the antivirus must be working.”
I don’t say anything. I just watch the android closest to me, glaring at her, daring her to stick me with another needle. She staggers a bit under my gaze and moves away as the other one comes into view, holding another syringe.
There’s my chance.
She sticks the needle through the port—my highway to getting out of here. Before she drops the plunger, I shift my arm out of reach.
Now, I say to the virus. NOW!
The virus doesn’t hesitate at all. After waiting for the effects of the antivirus to wear off, I’m now as contagious as ever—according to the virus during our surreal conversation. They may have put me in a sealed, anti-viral container to keep me from spreading infection, but the needle doesn’t have the slippery substance on it that the rest of the enclosure does.
I watch as the color of the needle changes from silver to red as the molecular structure of the object changes, shooting through the needle, through the port, and up to the rest of the syringe and the outside world.
“What the—?” the android cries out in shock. I hear her fall backwards, out of sight, but the other one comes to her rescue.
“I need backup!” she shouts into her com device. “I need backup in Lab 1203!”
Lab 1203. I tuck that information in the back of my mind, using it as a way of starting to build a map of Alpha.
I want to yell at the virus to move quickly, because I don’t know how long I’ll have before backup arrives. And I’ll lose any chances of escaping forever.
I hear more pandemonium, but I can’t see it.
Then, all of a sudden, there’s a hiss of air as my coffin opens for the first time in over a month. My hands and feet are still bound, so I can’t help push it up, but I apparently don’t need to. The lid lifts, exposing me to the chilly air outside.
I see who lifted it—one of the androids is standing at attention to my right, holding the lid aloft. But it’s not really the android—the virus has taken over her body. I can tell based on the lifeless look in her eyes, how her synthetic skin is sloughing off on one side, and how she moves erratically.
But I need to keep moving.
“My hands,” I say to the virus/android.
Her eyes shift down to the handcuffs almost confusedly, and I jangle my wrist to make my point. She reaches down, and I stay very still as her fingers—now slimy from the influence of the virus—touch the cuffs. They click off as they open and she moves on to the next wrist, then my ankles.
I sit up for the first time in too long, my ab muscles screaming in protest. My retina sends through information about my vitals and muscle loss from being contained in a coffin for over a month. I’m really weak from the muscle atrophy and the experimentation, and my bionic side has to overcompensate for my human side.
The one time I’m glad about being a cyborg.
I fall onto the floor, and I stop short at the sight of the other android. Her synthetic skin is bubbling off her frame, dripping onto the floor, exposing metal cheekbones and wires underneath. Her fingers are bouncing on her leg, though, and I can see the pool spreading around her, infecting the rest of the lab. Like it’s all becoming a part of the same organism.
The virus is getting what it wants.
I force myself to my feet, using a container as support. The lab is much smaller than I would have thought, especially for something so important to Maas and Syn-Tech. It’s about sixteen square meters, with my container on a raised table in the middle. There’s a centrifuge on one wall, a counter with a sink, and a rack full of test tubes.
And the tubes are filled the same glowy liquid that the androids have been injecting into me.
The antivirus!
I lurch towards the counter and grab at the vials.
“I’d been hoping that you wouldn’t use that,” the virus/android tells me in a stilted voice that tells me it’s even further from being human than I initially thought.
“You know I can’t go around infecting everyone,” I tell it.
The android gives me a ghoulish smile. “But I can.”
It splays a hand against the wall, and I see the wall ripple as it assimilates with the virus, taking on the characteristics as everything else the virus has infected. It’s spreading throughout Alpha, and I know there’s no stopping it at this point.
This was the price of me making a deal with it. I’m going to let it infect and take over Alpha while I try to save the rest of the crew of the Pícara. I know that I have to find them before the virus does. I may have made a bargain with it, but I don’t doubt that it won’t take full advantage of me if it can.
Such as trying to infect the world through everything I touch.
I grab a syringe and immediately stick it into my left thigh, pressing the plunger home. I barely feel the sting of the antivirus as it goes into me. I sigh and toss it away as that, too, becomes a part of the spreading infection. I set my internal stopwatch to twenty-four hours.
Then I’ll have to take another dose.
“You disappoint me,” the virus/android says.
“Sorry,” I say as I pull a flimsy hospital gown out of a cabinet. Not the best choice of clothing, but it’s all I have, and I’m naked otherwise. I tie the straps together and wrap another around my waist. It will have to do. “But remember our deal.”
Another uncanny smile. “I’ll try. It is hard, though.” The virus/android looks pensive. “Such a huge station. So many places to spread.”
I made a deal with an insane entity. And it’s inside me forever now, something that I’ll have to keep at bay so I won’t infect my crew or those I love.
There are about one hundred vials on the counter. Assuming that all of these vials are able to suppress the virus for about twenty-four hours, I have a hundred days of being able to carry the virus without infecting anyone else.
A hundred days. And then I need to figure out something else. Until then, I’ll take it.
I just need something to carry them in. And possibly some of the antiseptic gel that was in my coffin if worse comes to worst.
I flip through the cupboards, trying to find something resembling a bag. So far, there’s nothing so much as a rubbish bag.
“You should hurry if you want to maintain your rescue mission,” the virus tells me. “The backup is on its way.”
Great
. I’m about to shout in frustration when I spot a duffle that’s big enough. I grab it and hold it underneath the counter as I scoop everything on the counter into it. I even grab the mini-tabs on the table, hoping that there’s some form of notes or research on what they were developing.
If I can’t find a cure in a hundred days, at least I’ll be able to keep making more antivirus.
I sling the bag around my shoulder, and it’s so heavy, I nearly fall under the weight. My atrophied muscles are really a hamper on this rescue mission.
“Well,” I say to the virus. “I hope I don’t see you again.”
The android that it has taken over just gives me a too-wide smile. “We will meet again, Clementine Jones,” it tells me. “Our destinies are entwined. We’ve always been together. And we always will be.”
I shiver as I face the door. Through the window in the door, I see that armed Syn-Tech forces are coming down the hallway, ready to shoot first and ask questions later. Some of them are androids; others are humans.
But both kinds of soldiers are able to be affected by the virus. With seven of them heading our way, I know I won’t have much of a chance against them.
“Can you deal with the backup?” I ask, glancing back at the virus. I hate asking it, because I know what’s in store for them.
“Consider it done,” the android says calmly. Too calmly.
I watch through the glass as the virus rips along the hallways, a stain of red and white that spreads like fire. The soldiers see it, and I see that they’re afraid at what’s happening around them. I’m afraid for them.
I watch as the walls impossibly bend, reaching for them. They cower as the living wall touches them, and that’s the end of the line for them.
Their screams make me wince, and I have to avert my eyes from their demise and assimilation into the larger creature.
“You’re something else,” I tell the virus.
“I’m allowing you to escape.”
That’s true. I let out a shuddering breath as I unlatch the door, and it opens. Another taste of freedom. I almost sob in relief.
I glance back at the android, not sure whether to say thank you or warn it against infecting my friends. We have no pretenses between us. It knows I want it gone.
But the android just nods. “Be seeing you,” it says cryptically.
I push my way through the door and avoid the red walls as I kick away one of the soldier’s zappers before the infection spreads to it. I reach down and grab it. I know it’s set to kill, and I leave it at that.
I’m going to drop the rules if it means saving the others.
Now I just have to find them on one of the galaxy’s biggest space stations.
Chapter 22
I spot Dr. Jackson as she runs headlong down the corridor toward the lab. Luckily, she doesn’t see me yet, so when I raise the zapper to her, it completely catches her by surprise. She slows, her eyes flicking to the duffle bag at my side, then my gun. Her hands slowly go up in surrender.
I give her a serene smile.
“Surprise, bitch,” I growl to her, not in the mood for any sort of pleading or bargaining. “I wouldn’t go down that hallway if you value your life. There’s been an outbreak there, and it’s headed this way. So you’re going to tell me what I want to know. Or else I’m going to leave you to the virus, and it’s enjoying this a lot.”
She narrows her eyes. “How did you get out?”
Out of all the questions she could have asked. “I told the virus that if it helped me, I’d help it in return. We reached…an understanding.” If you could call it that.
“You communicated with the virus?” Her eyes boggle. “How? What did it say?”
I glance back behind me, seeing the spread of the virus as it leeches through the hallways. She follows my gaze as well, paling at the sight of the infection. We don’t have much time, so I can’t afford for her to be shuddering my progress to a halt.
I wave the zapper closer to her. “I’m asking the questions here,” I say. She doesn’t even seem fazed by my threat. “Tell me—where is the rest of my crew?”
She shakes her head. “If the virus is out, it’s too late for them. It’s too late for all of us.”
I press the firearm to her forehead. “Tell me where they are!”
She only glares at me. I briefly consider firing at her and ending it now. But I need information. I need to find them. It’s not too late. It can’t be. We’re a team, and I’ll do everything I can to save them.
Her spectacles…
With my free hand, I pluck them off her face and put them on my own nose. “Follow me,” I say, grabbing her roughly by the arm as I keep the zapper trained on her. We head down the corridor, away from the lab, and hopefully ahead of the virus.
She glares at me as I press a button, trying to acclimate to the unfamiliar interface. It’s obviously been programmed and made with her in mind, and her eyes must be closer together than mine, because the viewing angle is a little off for me. But if I squint and cross my eyes, I can see most of it.
And, to my utter pleasure, there’s a map of Alpha within the memory of the device. As I sort my way through the information, using my eyes to direct the computer, I pull up a section of the station that says Infirmary, but the good doctor has left a note nicknaming it The Dungeon.
That makes me even more pissed.
There’s a log of all the occupants in there. A child, a large female cyborg, a skinny male and a bigger male, both cyborgs as well. Definitely the crew of the Pícara, and they’re on the complete opposite end of the station, like they were trying to separate us as much as possible.
There’s also a warning flashing on the lens, alerting everyone that there’s been an outbreak on the station. A simulation shows the spread of the virus as it accelerates the further it goes. Just like a nightmare, the more it infects, the faster it moves.
And with the crew on the opposite end, it’s going to be a tight race. Dr. Jackson wasn’t lying when she said that if the virus was out, then I wouldn’t be able to get to them in time.
I’m at least going to try.
“Where’s the android?” I ask as we move down the hall.
“What?”
“The navigation android,” I say impatiently. “He’s not listed among those in the infirmary. Where is he?”
Her nostrils flare in defiance. “He was dismantled just after your ship docked. He was unreasonable and inconsolable with the state he was in. And with the Pícara being a biohazard piece of junk, we saw fit to junk him as well.”
No. It can’t be. Orion can’t be gone. My heart clenches inside my metal rib cage as the rage overtakes me, and I backhand her with the zapper, blood flying as she collapses to the ground. “Where are his parts?” I screech. “Tell me, or so help me…”
I trail my voice, meaning to be threatening, but she only gives a low laugh. “You think I’m the monster here?” she asks. “Me?” She glares up at me, her eyes shooting venom my way. “You’re the one who made a deal with a virus to get your way.”
Her words hit me just as hard as my blow to her. I take a shuddering breath as I look down at her, feeling something like pity and horror mixed together.
But then something akin to apathy settles on me. At some point during my containment, I’ve stopped caring about what it means to be good or bad. The only thing I can do is protect those I care about. And it’s time for me to keep moving, to do whatever it takes to save them. Even at the cost of my humanity.
We both twist our heads to see the virus coming around the corner, a trail of liquid as red as blood. It’s on the floor and on the walls, and it flows its way menacingly towards us.
It’s time to move.
“I am what I have to be,” I tell her, “because this is the world that you manufactured for me. I had no choice—I’m a victim of this thing that you created.”
She only shakes her head at me. “You’ve killed everyone on the station,” she says softly. “Yo
u’ve caused a larger, deadlier outbreak than what happened on Delta. We were trying to find an antivirus here. We were trying to suppress it.”
I jangle the bag carrying the vials next to me. “So you could infect a population and then have them buy your weeklong treatment?”
She doesn’t deny it, and that almost makes it even worse. But before she says anything, her eyes shoot up towards the ceiling as the red goop starts to trickle down towards her. She doesn’t move; she doesn’t protest. She only stares at it, open-mouthed, as the virus infects her, making her a part of the bigger lifeform.
“And look what that brought you,” I say hollowly before I take off sprinting along the route on the map. I don’t feel any remorse for what happened to her.
I’m a cyborg hellbent on a mission now. And the stars won’t be able to help anyone who gets in my way.
My damaged leg doesn’t hinder me too much as I sprint. My cyborg side makes up for my weakened biological side, so even though my muscles have atrophied, I can still make my way down the corridors. Emergency sirens are blaring, and residents—both androids and Lifers alike—pass me going the opposite direction, evacuating the station.
Despite everything, I hope they’re able to escape the virus and prove Dr. Jackson wrong. I don’t want to be responsible for their deaths, even if they were necessary for me to get out of captivity. Apparently, I still have a human heart.
Through one of the hallways, I reach an annex in what looks to be a downtown residential area of Alpha, a fully enclosed city within the spaceport. According to the spectacles, civilians live in the center while the administrative functions happen in a ring around it. Condominiums stretch along both sides of the street, so tightly packed I can’t see the end of the street or what lays beyond these buildings. There’s a sizable city spread out before me, a good twenty miles across, according to Dr. Jackson’s spectacles.