by White, Gwynn
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. “You’ve caused a larger, more deadly 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 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.
And everyone is trying to leave it all at once. Delta’s demise must have scared them to action, because they all look like they’re about to meet their maker.
I can’t believe how many Lifers live on Alpha. I’ve never seen so many humans with their bodies fully intact before. One of the hallmarks of a Free Agent is the presence of a bionic part—kind of like sharing stories about scars from old Earth. The more fortunate Lifers never had to worry about space debris or their containment breaching and being sucked out into space.
They’ve all lived charmed lives. And now? It’s their Armageddon.
People dash from all directions, stampeding each other, and shouting for everything to get out of the way. I have to duck around them, going against the flow of panicked traffic.
I should have taken a different approach, but Dr. Jackson’s spectacles are telling me this is the most direct route to The Dungeon, even with the traffic. I just have to keep going. At least that’s what I keep telling myself.
“Watch it, you fucking cyborg!” someone snaps at me as I bump into him. He carries an armful of goods for his family of three. I make eye contact with a girl who can only be his daughter based on their shared ginger hair. She’s only about six years old. Her eyes are so wide, there’s more white than irises and pupils.
She’s around the same age I was when Louis found me. And she may not get off this hunk of metal alive.
I turn to her father, even though he had cursed me out. They don’t deserve to die, not at the hands of the virus.
“Go to the docks on the starboard side,” I tell him, pointing in a direction that is a forty-seven-degree deviation from everyone else’s path. The spectacles are telling me which areas of Alpha are flooded with evacuees, and there’s far fewer at that dock than any other. “There are some escape pods there that have not been used yet, and it’s far enough from the virus that you won’t be at risk of infection.”
He frowns at me, in disbelief at first, and then takes in my hospital gown outfit, the bag on my shoulder, and the zapper in my hand. “Why are you telling me this?” he asks.
“Because you need to save your daughter,” I say, nodding to the girl who looks like she’s about to pass out.
He doesn’t budge. “How can I trust a cyborg like you?”
Did I mention that Lifers have a horrible prejudice against Free Agents? It pisses me off.
“Just go!” I say, giving him a rough push. He stumbles, dragging his daughter and wife along with him, giving me a suspicious glare as they continue walking. To my relief, they’re moving in a different path
than the rest of the crowds.
Maybe he’s not an idiot and he’ll save his family. Hopefully that will teach him not to look down upon cyborgs.
But I doubt it.
Another alarm blares, this time more insistent than the first one. The spectacles tell me that the virus has taken out an entire side of the ship, rendering it unpassable due to the spreading infection. I also receive a notification that the Feds have been alerted and they’ll be here in 25.7 minutes.
That’s even less time than I had planned on initially.
“Fuck,” I mutter under my breath as I look around for some sort of vehicle. There are still eighteen clicks between me and the Dungeons, and while I could have made it in my peak condition, I’m injured and weak. My only hope is to find something that will take me there.
Miraculously, I spot an air scooter that no one else has thought to take in their mad scramble out of the main city. I swing my leg over it and secure the bag before I transform my right index finger into a tool that will jumpstart the bike without a keycode. It’s risky, and I can get electrocuted from the scooter, but it’s a risk I’m willing to take.
“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon…”
The scooter roars to life, and I let out an excited whoop, which catches the attention of some evacuees.
“Hey!” one shouts. “Take me with you! Take me—!”
I hit the accelerator and the air scooter shoots off into the air above them, at such a fast speed, I don’t hear their cries behind me. I didn’t have the time to tell them that I’m going on a suicide mission. Even though I’m sure they would have knocked me off and used it themselves.
I am a cyborg after all.
With the increased speed, my spectacles tell me that I’ll make it to the Dungeons in a little over six minutes. That’s a much better estimate than I had earlier, but I refuse to let myself celebrate just yet.
Hovering twenty feet above the crowds, I can see the sheer swell of bodies as they press toward every available exit. Other air vehicles fly by me and I have to watch out for collisions.
But the miles fly by underneath me and I make it to the end of the main city, toward the edge of the dome that makes up Space Port Alpha. As I park the scooter, I wonder if there’s any way I can keep it—once I find the crew, I’ll have to find Orion somewhere on this space port, and I may need it.
I decide against it in the end. Let someone else have a chance.
I push through the door, and find myself in another hallway, this one less empty than the rest of the space port. Maybe everyone has evacuated the Dungeons, and the members of the crew have all been saved. I can hope, right?
But the spectacles say they’re still there, captured.
Just a few more doors, and I spot the sign that says Infirmary.
“Or as Dr. Jackson calls it, the Dungeon,” I mutter as I palm the touchpad next to the door. Nothing happens. Of course, it would be locked. If Taka were on this side of the door, he’d be able to access the code in thirty seconds flat. As it is, I’m not as good at that, but I can try.
I dismantle the screen and pull apart a few wires. My retina replays video of Taka doing this exact same thing and I use it as an instruction manual for hacking this door myself. I mess up a few times, causing it to beep angrily at me, but then, finally, when I press two wires together, the doors iris open.
I nearly sob in relief at the open door, but my revelry is short-lived. As I step into the Dungeons, I see why Taka hasn’t tried hacking the system himself.
All around me are cryogenic capsules, similar to the one they kept me in the lab, only these are meant for extended prison sentences, keeping the captives alive when the Feds decided that death wasn’t a good enough punishment for the worst offenders. Why waste perfectly good specimen for experiments?
There are thousands here spiraling upwards around the edges of the Dungeon, making me wonder exactly what Dr. Jackson had in mind for testing. Especially since this was originally called The Infirmary. Did she mean to experiment on them later? Use them to spread the virus? Or create something entirely new?
As I look at them, I wonder if I had been in one of these capsules at one point in my life. I gnaw at my bottom lip, feeling that sense of dread clench my stomach.
Then the spectacles alert me that another ward in Alpha has fallen to infection, shortening the estimated time for the ship to fall victim to it. I can’t stay here and wonder about what might have been.
Keep it together, Clem, I tell myself. I suck a deep breath, trying to steady my rapidly beating heart. Just find them and get out. That’s all I need to save them.
I break into another pad for access to the files and numbers of the captives—wasting precious time when there’s a deadly virus headed our way. Luckily for me, everyone is grouped together, meaning that I just need to call that section of the prisoners. Huge, mechanical arms begin moving, going their respective direction to pull four different capsules that are placed in front of me.
A sigh of relief catches in my throat, and I wipe the frost off the capsule closest to me. PC’s slumbering face greets me, and I almost thump the window to say hi. Not that it would work—they’re all in deep sleeps right now, and if I have any hope of getting them out of here, I need to wake them up.
I turn the mechanical lock on the front, and it hisses open with a burst of cold air. Inside, I hear PC coughing.
He’s alive. Thank the stars, he’s alive!
I move to the other capsules, opening them up as quickly as possible and they all hiss open to reveal the groggy, slumbering prisoners inside. Everyone seems fine. Everyone is in one piece.
“Cl—Clementine?” PC asks. I turn as he sits up in his capsule, a dark, skintight uniform flush against his body, leaving nothing to the imagination. I’ve seen him naked before, so it’s no big deal, but these uniforms are one last insult to the prisoners.
“Hey, PC,” I tell him.
“What are you doing here?” He blinks at me, frowning deeply. “Are you still infected? Where’s Louis?”
The mention of our former captain hurts me almost physically, and I grimace as I look at him. He’s not too drowsy to pick up on my distress, and his face hardens as he watches me. “What happened?” he asks, his voice steely.
“Not enough time to explain,” I say as I press a button on the side of the spectacles so my human computer downloads all the information on the drive. Daisy, Taka, and Oliver sit up in their capsules, their attention on me. The perfect time to fill them in on everything. Hopefully they aren’t too dazed to understand.
“It’s a month later,” I say. “We are on Space Port Alpha. And the virus is loose here, and if it doesn’t get us first, the Feds will blow us up.”
I don’t tell them that I made a bargain with the virus to escape. That’s something to share when we’ve had a few drinks.
Maybe. I still wonder if I’m a monster for selling myself out like that.
“Daisy,” I say, taking off the spectacles. I hand them to her because she’s the fastest runner of the bunch, and she gives them a quizzical look, not understanding what they are. “Take these and go towards the nearest docks. And I want you to commandeer a ship for us.”
“A ship?” she asks, confused. “But what about the Pícara?”
Another blow to my fragile façade of being the brave leader. I try smiling encouragingly, but it fails. “It’s infected, too,” I say. “They have it as a biohazard and I don’t think it’s safe to fly. Not unless you want to get infected.”
“And you?” PC asks. “Are you infected?”
“That’s…complicated,” I say. “And we don’t have time for it. What I need you to do is find a ship we can steal.”
“And what about you?” Taka asks.
I swallow back the thrill of fear. “I need to go find Orion,” I say. “They dismantled him somewhere and I need to find what’s left of him and bring him back. And if I’m not back in ten—”
“You’re not doing that alon
e,” PC says, grimacing as he gets to his feet. “I’m coming with you.”
“You can barely stand, PC.”
“And you’re wearing a paper gown,” he retorts back. “So you don’t have a leg to stand on. Mechanical or otherwise.”
His comment strikes me as a joke, and I start chuckling in hysterics, clutching at my hair. He grins, knowing that he has me wrapped around his finger.
“Fine,” I say, holding up my hands, “but it’s risky.”
“And so was downlooting a dangerous virus,” Daisy mutters, “but we can’t stay away from trouble, can we?” She nods to Taka and Oliver. “We’ll find you a ship, Clem. Just make sure you’re back in time. Even if you can’t find Orion. Androids are replaceable. You aren’t.”
I wanted to tell her that Orion is irreplaceable, too, but I don’t have the time nor energy to fight her. Or explain that one. So I just nod. “Call us with the location of the ship,” I say, tapping my temple. “And we’ll be there in ten minutes.”
“Right,” Daisy says as she puts the spectacles on. She pulls herself out of the capsule and doesn’t even sway on her feet as she gestures for the others to join her. “Taka, Oliver, let’s move!”
The two males pull themselves out of their containers, although Oliver needs some help from Daisy. “Good luck, Clementine,” the boy says as Daisy grabs his hand and they start running.
I turn towards PC. “You know you’re stupid for coming along with me.”
He grins snidely at me. “You know I can’t let you kill yourself over an android. Even if you’re in love with him.”
I open my mouth to make a retort, but that would just be another lie. So I let out an exasperated breath and walk towards the door, hoping that can be the end of that conversation.
“So where do you think they keep dismantled androids?” PC asks behind me. “Do you have any of that info from that thing you downloaded?”
“No,” I say flatly. I hold up the zapper. “But I suggest we find someone who does.”
A wicked smile comes to my surrogate brother’s face. “I like the way you think.”