BEYOND EXTINCTION

by John Keeble

  *

  Galen checks his mediamat reports. He is content that the evacuation is going smoothly. Transport drones, each crewed by a numan2 vetted and conditioned by the spookpolice, are being loaded with scientists.

  Balen, Jack and Max. Next on my list. He hits Balen's face on the communicator screen and instantly connects with her phone. "Hello, Director Galen. This is Twinkle. I am here to help you have a lovely day. How can I assist you today?"

  "Balen. Now," commands Galen.

  "Miss Alice does not use that name now, Director Galen. Do you wish to speak to Miss Alice?"

  "Yes! Now!"

  "I'm sorry, Director," says Twinkle sweetly. "She said you hit her and she will talk to you only in an emergency."

  "This is an emergency, you electronic idiot. Put me through!"

  "I'm sorry, she is indisposed at the moment. I can get her to call you when she and Mr. Jack are not being held prisoner at gunpoint. Please record your request now."

  Galen hates Twinkle. She makes his head hurt and he badly wants to kill her. Maybe Balen soured Twinkle towards me to make my life difficult.

  He checks the time. Thirteen minutes to evacuation lift-off. He can hear subdued crack of troopers' guns. Balen held at gunpoint? He hits her face on his communicator again. Dead. Twinkle is not answering him for a second time. He flings the communicator across the room, instantly sorry as it shatters and he remembers that he does not have another.

  He forces his mind back to the evacuation. Every place is needed on each drone. Researchers, technical specialists, medtechs, his web of controllers and commanders. Six drones, twenty seats in each... maybe thirty places per drone if some stand. Still not enough for my hundred and ninety-six key staff. He scans his screen list to choose who can be left behind.

  His assistant is moving about in the outer office, expecting to go, too blinded by the emergency to see for himself that he is a waste of an evacuation space. Galen feels a little shiver of pleasure at the thought.

  "Zaan, Deputy Director Balen is being held prisoner somewhere," he calls to his assistant. "Try to find out where."

  "Senior Technician Nandro is on another line," replies Zaan, edging into the forbidden ground of Galen's private office. "He says he has Deputy Director Balen and Mr. Jack prisoner in MedLabSix. Do you want to speak with him? I have warned him you are busy with our evacuation."

  "Our evacuation?" says Galen. "You will stay here until after the evacuation and then you will join the security force to go by land to Dorchester." He hits a key on his mediamat. "I have sent you a list of those not coming with me. Inform them now."

  "But, Director—."

  Galen brushes past and heads towards MedLabSix.

  *

  Commander Sandro leads Alpha Squad back into the defense line. Where is everyone? It's deserted! His temper rises like a bomblet exploding. I must not let it overwhelm me.

  "Attack Drone control," Sandro says into his communications mic without turning off the audio link to every member of Alpha Squad. "This is the commander of Alpha Squad. We should be crossing the perimeter defense line. Please confirm our position."

  "Activate your position tracking device." A pause while Sandro does as he is told. "We can see you now. You are in the villageside defense position. We have lost contact with the defense force in that location. Can you advise us on the status of the defense line?"

  "Stand by," says Sandro. He cannot tell them that the defenses are unmanned. The mobs may be listening on captured equipment.

  "Alpha Squad, form up on me," he commands, heading east towards the Center.

  They step lightly and quickly through the rest of the defensive positions – through the firing positions, the high points for observers and snipers, and into the ambush maze designed to exact a final bloody price from any mob that tries to follow a retreat.

  Sandro senses and hears movement in the ambush hideouts. So this is where the defense line is waiting. A quite acceptable tactic – but who authorized it?

  "This is Commander Sandro leading Alpha Squad," he calls softly. "Hold your fire."

  He leads them into the trap's maze of paths. Why is no one showing themselves? Why is there no telecom link working in this sector?

  An unbelievable explanation galvanizes his mind. But it is too late. All hell is breaking loose.

  *

  Chapter 18

  "Oh! It's night," says Patti as they leave the building.

  "Yes," sneers Commander Aindrea. "Your upgraded numan2 mind and our expenditure on your education are truly justified in enabling you to detect this."

  Patti recoils. What is wrong with Mark? On the ship, he offered me everything. Now he lets them insult me. The treacherous little animal!

  "Commander," she says with forced composure, "I was head of emotional genetics at the Center in FedUK. My record speaks for me and you have no right to imply any lack of intelligence."

  Aindrea glances at her. "I have read your record and much of what you produced in your work. Neither is impressive. However, we will honor you with our analysis of your brain, organs and deep tissue. Hopefully, once matched to your personal file, there will be something to justify the use of our resources – though I doubt it."

  "Personal file? You mean my work record?"

  Patti waits. Aindrea looks amused. Will he tell me anything? Mark is looking from one to the other. Have we both been sedated?

  Aindrea sighs. "Why shouldn't I tell you? By this time tomorrow, you will be a digital file and a heap of meat. You and every other researcher at the FedUK Center have been part of the research from the moment of joining the project. It is the same in every genetic research center in the world. Every moment of your life has been monitored and recorded. Your monthly medical check to test for human infections? A fiction. It was to take medical data, including looking for genetic mutations or changes in your emotional responses. Some of the humans you studied were rebuilds provoking emotional reactions in you. The observer observed. Interesting idea, don't you think?"

  Yes, I can believe that. With hindsight, she could probably name the rebuilds. What about the other researchers? What about Galen and Ali? Why did Galen and Ali reveal to us the genesis of numan civilization? Why drive me over the edge? Just another way of jolting us into emotional reactions?

  "Commander, I understand my position. Are the other researchers carrying on with Director Galen's project?"

  "The FedUK Center is being evacuated. Our numan DNA research and design facility, while not as well-equipped as the one run by the great Professor Galen, has been dragged in to rescue his research. A complete waste of resources, but we will be processing and dissecting all the researchers surplus to the professor's requirements."

  "Director Galen and Deputy Director Ali. Are they being processed?"

  "Probably."

  "So no one from the Center will survive?" she asks.

  "Only Jack Janis and his dog Max."

  "Why them?" she asks in surprise.

  "That is not your concern."

  Patti feels a small thrill as she reads Aindrea's emotions. He doesn't know and he doesn't want to admit it.

  *

  Troy, White Death's deputy, and 30 of their fighters are hidden in a network of ambush positions behind the troopers' deserted defense line. He sends two fighters forward to find the troopers' new frontline and waits, heart pounding, in a silence as deep as if the whole land is holding its breath. Rain would help us. A storm would be better. We would not be so easily seen or heard.

  A sound he dreads jolts his nerves: the light clump of military boots approaching. From behind us! From the troopers' deserted defense line. We are trapped!

  A voice calls out, "This is Commander Sandro leading Alpha Squad. Hold your fire."

  Troy screams "Attack!" and leaps forward, his knife ripping into a trooper, a jet of blood and a death gasp shattering the tense peace of the woods. And now his fighters are hacking, slashing, dying; the living grabbing at smart
guns, equipment, water bottles.

  A mad rage consumes him as he pulls his knife from the dying trooper and runs towards the sounds of battle nearby. He drives his knife into the back of another trooper grappling with one of his fighters. But their death embrace ends with them being thrown violently backward as a blaster shreds the air. A tangled mess of his fighters and troopers litter the path but he is barely touched at the back of the crowd. He surges blindly forward. Attack, stab, kill.

  "Wait! Don't kill him!" Troy shouts at a numan-human with multi-colored eyes about to deal the death blow to a numan officer.

  Is that Sandro? The one who ordered the rot death attacks on us? He looks like the images I have seen. "White Death will want him," he shouts.

  The crashes and cries of battle fade as abruptly as they started. He hears a groan followed by a dull thud. His fighters gradually rally near him, everyone looking shocked, covered in blood, some nursing injuries, one supported by two others.

  "You, you... you... and you," says Troy, pointing a shaking finger at his toughest fighters, the ones looking alert and ready for more. "Take this prisoner to White Death. Keep him alive. He has information we need. And take eight of the smart guns and bullets, too. We will use the rest."

  *

  Aleksi has the blood of his son on his hands but it is Ali, returned to Aapeli's side, who works to save the boy.

  Outside the Domes, the noise of battle is growing, the soundtrack to a tense confrontation between Jack and the guards.

  "Ali, is Aapeli all right?" Aleksi asks, his voice loud enough to penetrate the rising sound of the mobs. Even to himself, Aleksi sounds like he is talking about a stranger when, inside, his guts feel like they are being twisted and he can hardly think straight.

  "He is content," replies Ali. "He will be scarred but he will live. I have stemmed the blood flow. I am now stapling and sealing the incision."

  Aleksi draws a deep breath as relief courses through him. He has his hands on Aapeli's shoulders and he locks eyes with his son. They are alone in the world. He trusted Director Galen when he joined the Center. Now he knows: Galen is no better than the humans who performed abominable experiments on living, sentient, nonhuman creatures.

  A crash and smart bullet explosions erupt near the lab as fighting intensifies around the security fence.

  "What is that?" Aapeli asks his father with trusting, dependent eyes that choke Aleksi with emotion. How could I have given my son to the experimenters?

  "Shard bullets exploding," says a panicky guard. "The mobs have reached the perimeter."

  "We need to get out of here," says Jack flatly, a powerful statement of fact that cudgels into Aleksi and unsettles the guards further.

  No one is ready or able to concede anything. Jack, locked in confrontation with the medtech and guards, subtly shifts his position.

  No! He cannot do that! Memories of university military cadet training flood Aleksi's mind. Is Jack going to risk Aapeli, perhaps all of us, by attacking the troopers?

  "We will wait for two minutes more for Director Galen's orders," says the medtech. "If anyone tries to leave, we will shoot."

  Aleksi's body, already tense, goes rigid with alarm as Jack moves further into a numan combat stance. Don't do it Jack! The guards know what you are doing.

  Jack eases into the final attack position despite the guards' guns on him. Doesn't he know they can read his body? The medtech's eyes flicker to the door, micro-changes in his face.

  "Please do not try to disarm my guards, Jack," comes a voice from behind them, and Aleksi chills in the liquid ice of the Director's tones. "They can see your intentions and they will kill you."

  "Then tell them to back off," says Jack, matching Galen's tone. The moment of life and death seems to Aleksi to linger into eternity.

  "The guards' blasters are pointed at Balen as well as you..." begins Galen, and Aleksi detects something different in his voice. Galen wants us alive!

  But Aleksi's rising hopes are shattered as Ali shrieks at the Director, "Don't call me Balen, you murderer!"

  "The blasters will also hit Aleksi and Aapeli," continues the Director. "Jack, they will all die unless you allow the guards to secure your hands."

  The sound of another furious barrage of smart bullet explosions fills the lab.

  "Jack!" urges Aleksi. "Please do it. For Aapeli."

  "Okay," says Jack, and puts his hands out to the nearest guard, who secures them with decisive authority.

  "Now we must evacuate," says Galen. "My transport drones are waiting. Follow me."

  Aleksi and Ali lift Aapeli from the chair and support him as the three struggle awkwardly after Galen. They reach the outside door. Something is wrong! The drone zone is filled with evacuating troopers who should be fighting on the perimeter.

  "Stop!" Galen shouts at the troopers, his voice distorted by rage. "Who is in command here?"

  Aleksi looks round desperately for a safe drone for Aapeli, but it is impossible. He cannot see which to choose and his effort is cut short by a junior officer running up to Galen.

  "I am organizing the evacuation, Director," shouts the officer as his troopers run for the drones. The earlier pace of exploding smart bullets is slackening and the noise of the attacking mobs is growing.

  The end is very close. I must get Aapeli to safety. A thought in Aleksi's brain reaches out to the officer. He looks familiar. Yes! He is the officer who commanded the rescue squad when the humans attacked our home.

  "You will get your troopers off my drones," Galen orders and, looking furtive, adds something only the officer can hear.

  "No, Director," the officer replies loudly enough to beat the din. "I honor you as my mentor and my benefactor but I have my orders. Military High Command says our troopers must be evacuated. The technical staff will have to risk the mobs and fight their way to Dorchester."

  Aleksi moves closer to the officer, leaving Ali supporting Aapeli, in time to hear Galen tell the officer, "I shall evacuate with you. Deputy Director Balen and Mr. Jack will accompany me. Kill the rest of this party."

  Aleksi, once diffident and unassuming, pushes up to the officer. "Ambi," he says, "you know me and my son. You helped us when the human animals attacked our house. Do not kill us!"

  The officer flash-appraises Aapeli, blood-caked and exhausted, and the rest of the group as Aleksi pleads, "Can we evacuate with you? Can you save my son even if you cannot take all of us?"

  "You cannot come with us. Our trooper base is closed to civilians."

  They both look a towards an explosion where a knot of troopers is setting up the last defense line.

  Aleksi wildly scans the line of drones until his eyes stop on one furthest from the fighting. "The small drone, the one at the end," he says. "Can we take that? You have the big drones for your troopers. You do not need the small one."

  For a second, the officer looks at Aapeli and then Galen. "Take the small one, ambi," he tells Aleksi. "Commander Galen, this is the best I can do."

  Galen, impotent with fury, begins, "You will be..." But the officer is running off, yelling orders, getting the last of his troopers away from the defense line and into the drones.

  As Aleksi and Ali struggle to get Aapeli to the small drone, Aleksi hears Jack's phone saying urgently, "Jack! We can't evacuate. Max is at home and mobs are heading that way. We must save him."

  *

  Chapter 19

  Mark wakes with a start. He and Patti are in bed in a luxurious chalet at the processing facility. He examines his senses. Is this a dream? It is morning and he has a vague memory of an alarm call. Patti's day to die – mine will be tomorrow.

  This could have been their last wonderful night together but Patti had turned her back on him and he soon dropped into a deep sleep. What's wrong with her? All I did was talk to Aindrea to be polite.

  As full awareness penetrates his mind, he feels confused, not just by Patti, but by the way the processing plant is treating them. They arrived in the van, hot, a
nxious, expecting to spend the night in a badly printed holding cell. But human-looking hosts welcomed them with gifts of sparkling fresh water and pmeat delicacies while they waited for their documents to be processed. A guest mentor walked them through fragrant flower gardens to this chalet.

  "Enjoy your stay, welcome guests," the mentor said before asking them to enter a service evaluation rating on his wrist-computer. Mark gave a five, the maximum, but the silent Patti flicked the mentor away.

  Mark lies still for a moment in the great bed, trying not to wake Patti, wondering about the time and whether she will be any more agreeable when she wakes. I really would like to have sex one more time if they're going to kill us.

  The room is light and strangely cool. He puts his arms outside the peach satin sheets. A gentle current of air caresses them. Air conditioning! Banned worldwide but not here.

  He feels Patti stirring and he edges closer. They are both naked, the way they always sleep together, and he feels the comforting touch of her skin. Her hand fumbles towards his and they lie there, holding hands. Maybe she'll be back to normal today.

  He tries to come to terms with his feeling of well-being and the fact that they are both going to be "processed." He even knows the moment he will die: 4:07 pm tomorrow afternoon. It is on the itinerary given to them at the reception desk.

  "Mr. Mark, you are a VIP," the head of the reception department had told him. "You have the personal recommendation of Commander Aindrea. He is extremely important."

  "If he is so important, why can't he save our lives?" asked Mark.

  "Rules. You have been tainted by your association with Miss Patti and you are too old for any course apart from slaughter."

  Now, in the luxury of the bungalow, he wants to be angry but he cannot feel anything. He runs his hand over Patti's body, the way that aroused them both on the cruise ship, but she ignores his suggestion. She doesn't feel angry like last night. She feels inert, like she's asleep. Not for the first time, he wonders about his own dulled emotions, his compliance with the processing procedure. Were we drugged by the welcome drinks or pmeats?