by A. W. Cross
“Then how can it exist?” Pine was still so naïve in many ways.
“The government must’ve decided it was worth the risk to look the other way when we almost went under martial law, just before the Goldhare Horizon disaster ended the possibility of war.” James pulled at his bottom lip.
“So you don’t recognize the name?” Joseph didn’t seem surprised.
James ran his hand through his hair. “No, only the 9791 designation. But then again, that wasn’t my branch of the military. I’d heard rumblings of a series of black prisons patrolling the waters around Foxwept, keeping high profile prisoners and collecting defectors, escapees, and insurgents. They’d been in use for about two years before the Blackmoth Provincial Autonomy was signed, and although rumors of them were leaked to the public, they were all apparently destroyed before the truth was documented. I wasn’t even sure they were real.”
“They were. And they were supposed to have been destroyed, like you said. Only, they lost one.”
“Lost one?” It was unbelievable. When he’d served, he’d practically had to account for every single bullet.
“Yes. And it put them in a bit of a quandary. They couldn’t exactly ask for help looking for something that’s not supposed to exist, could they?”
James let out a low whistle. “No, they couldn’t. But if that’s true, Tunny’s been down here for nearly seven years.” The poor bastard. No wonder he’d been unimpressed at their arrival.
“That’s right.”
“Did he never wonder why no one was in contact with him? What happened to all the other people? The captain?”
“Tunny did wonder when there’d been no communication for nearly a year. But his superiors impressed on him the secret nature of the ship, and since they didn’t seem concerned…he minded his own business, like he was paid to do. I mean, they had life-pods and everything, so they could evacuate if they needed to.” He leaned back and dipped his head in regret. “Only, a few months later, a new prisoner brought a plague aboard and it swept through the prison. When it had finally run its course, only a handful of people were left, and the ship had lost all communication with the outside world. Some of them have passed on, and they’ve picked up a few others along the way, like me.”
“What about the life-pods? I mean, I know all too well about not abandoning one’s duty, but it would’ve been understandable in this case. So why didn’t they use them?”
“The captain had apparently gone a bit…mad. He ejected all the life-pods during one of his episodes. By the time anyone realized, it was too late, and they were trapped.”
“That’s—” Horrible. Unbelievable. Tragic. James could barely conceive of it. What must it have been like for those people down here, the moment they realized they were virtually entombed? Nausea and pity rose in his throat.
Pressure on his hand brought him back to the present. Pine was gazing at him, reflecting his anguish. No. They would not suffer the same fate. Think. There must be a way. “How do they survive? I mean, what do you eat? How does the prison run?” Joseph was rough around the edges, but Tunny was what James could only call hale and hearty, and he’d kept the prison sailing all this time. Hearing Joseph’s story, he was developing a new respect for the maintenance man.
Joseph made a face. “We eat whatever gets sucked in. The fish are a bit worse for wear, but it’s regular. There’s a water treatment tank. As for the prison itself, it’s hydrogen-powered. It takes its energy right from the water. And these damn things were made to last.”
“Has anyone ever tried to escape? I mean, seven years.” Surely there’d been at least a few attempts.
“I’m sure they did, in the beginning. But from what I’ve been told, none managed it. It is a prison, after all.”
That wasn’t what James wanted to hear. “There must be a way out. Every place, no matter how secret, has an escape route.” James drummed his fingers on the tabletop. “Is there a control room I can get into? If I can look at the schematics of the ship, I might be able to find something.”
“There is. Only…Tunny says the captain’s still in there. He apparently barricaded himself and the first mate in there years ago during a particularly severe bout. He’d been threatening the other inmates, so Tunny was happy enough to leave him where he is. And he just never came out. He’ll be dead, of course, but I just wanted to warn you. All the other bodies were shot out into the sea.”
“If bodies can leave, why can’t we use the same exit?”
“The waste vents are big enough for a person to go through, but then they’re still in the middle of the ocean. Without diving equipment, we’d never survive.”
“There’s got to be something. Blueprints, a manual. Will you show me where it is?”
Joseph slapped the table with both hands. “Of course. Believe me, I’m as eager to get out of here as you are.”
“Should we tell the others what we’re doing? One of them might have some more information.” Pine glanced at the door leading into the cell block.
She wanted to give them hope, and he understood that. But they had to find some themselves before they told the others. “Not yet. We need come up with a plan first.”
Joseph bounced to his feet, sprightly as a much younger man. “Let’s go find that control room.”
***
The hinges of the control room door groaned loudly as James pushed it open.
“Strange,” Tunny remarked. “The captain locked the door when he…wasn’t quite right.”
James groped for the light switch, flicking it up and down. Nothing. The only light in the room was the minutely less dark water outside the cockpit window. From James’s best guess, they were at the forefront of the prison’s triangular head.
“Pine, could you hold up the flashlight for me, please?” he asked. “We could really use that indigo glow of yours right now.”
“What? I should plaster myself against the window like a naked starfish?” She left Tunny and Joseph waiting on the iron staircase leading up to the control room and lit her flashlight, holding it over her head and pointing the beam into the darkened space. “What would poor Tunny think?”
James snorted. “It would probably be the silver lining of the last seven years of his life.”
The light passed over panels inlaid with screens and dials, and what looked like enough buttons to control a fleet of ships. James had expected—given Tunny’s recounting of the captain’s alleged madness—to find the room in disarray. But everywhere the beam touched was fastidiously neat; even the shaft of light itself showed no motes of dust in its ray.
In the front center of the cockpit, the beam illuminated the back of the captain’s chair.
“That must be him,” James whispered to Pine. The captain’s arms rested on either side of the chair, still clad in a crisp, navy blue uniform.
James shivered, although he wasn’t sure why. He’d seen plenty of bodies before. Fresh bodies, bodies of people he’d known. Why would he be skittish of a years-old corpse?
“What should we do?” Pine murmured back.
“Try to get the lights going. Then we’ll move the captain. I won’t feel as disrespectful rooting around in his ship’s system if I’m not standing two feet from his body. Besides, he deserves a proper sea burial. He never left his post or abandoned his ship.”
The captain’s chair creaked as it swiveled to face them. “And why would I?”
The flashlight fell from Pine’s hand, clattering loudly on the floor. When the cockpit lights flared on a few seconds later, she was still rooted to the spot. Could synadroids die of fright?
The captain remained seated, his hands folded grandly on his lap. The gold-trimmed peaked hat sat in perfect symmetry atop his head, his angular face was composed, and the creases in his jacket looked freshly pressed.
Like the room, he was immaculate, unmarred by even a speck of the dusty dankness that seemed to be on every other surface in the prison, even Tunny.
“Ch
arles?” Tunny gaped from the doorway. “You’re alive.”
“And why wouldn’t I be, Tunny?”
“That’s the captain?” Pine whispered to Tunny.
“No, just his uniform. He’s the first mate.”
“Incorrect. I am now the captain.”
“I think that’s the captain there.” James pointed to a corner bordered by the consoles. The naked, desiccated remains of a man slumped against the wall, his head bowed and hands resting across his thighs.
“Correct. And in the event of the captain’s death at sea, the first mate becomes the captain.”
Pine had no idea if that was true or not.
“What happened to the other captain?” James looked as skeptical as she felt.
“He became…hysterical. He wanted to abandon our mission.”
“You’re a synadroid,” Pine said, and James stiffened beside her.
The captain inclined his head. “Top model of my year.”
“But I thought…you…I thought you were dead ,” Tunny blurted. “I’ve not heard a sound out of this room since the captain barricaded the two of you in here. I assumed you just…wound down.” Finally, Pine had met someone as naïve about synadroids as she was about humans. She liked Tunny more and more.
“I found myself out of sorts, given recent events, and decided to power down for a short nap. I must say, I’m feeling all the better for it.”
“But you’ve been in here for five years!”
“You jest. By my account, I’ve been inactive a mere twenty-eight hours.”
The odd formality of his speech struck Pine. Was it his programming, a kind of naval nostalgia? In her experience, sentient androids were usually as contemporary as possible, a whimsical attempt to make them fit in seamlessly.
Or was he, as Tunny had said of the captain, not quite right?
“You’ve been inactive for more than twenty-eight hours.” Tunny tapped the watch on his wrist.
Charles’s silver eyes narrowed. “You’re incorrect.”
“It’s true. You’ve been missing for nearly seven years. The other prisons have been decommissioned. And on our ship, sir, the Alpha Four, things have…deteriorated somewhat. Nearly everyone is gone.”
One corner of the captain’s mouth twitched. “I don’t believe you, Tunny. I would know if that were true.”
“It is true, sir. We’ve been traversing this bloody ocean for years, sucking up any poor soul that gets in our path.”
The captains mouth twitched again. “Felons, you mean.”
“No, Tunny’s right. Your duty here is over. We need to get back to the surface. If not, we’ll all die down here.” James held up his hands. “As one military man to another, it’s the truth.”
“Who are you?”
“My name is James, Lieutenant—”
“Not you. Her. The synadroid.”
“My name is Pine.” Her fingers followed his gaze to the tattoo on her wrist.
“Why are you here? There are no other androids aboard this vessel.”
“Like Tunny told you, we got caught up in your path. We’re here by mistake.”
“We don’t make mistakes.” His pronunciation became crisper, more deliberate.
“Everything is different now. Go look around the prison if you don’t believe us.”
“And leave my post?” He stroked the hard-earned navy-and-gold epaulet on his shoulder. “Who are you, really?”
They were getting into murky waters here. “I’m no one to you. But I’m telling you the truth. We need to get up to the surface, now. If not, people will die. Many already have.” Pine rubbed her fingers over her barcode. What should she do? There was obviously something wrong with him. For all they knew, he’d killed his captain. They had to be careful. “I think…I think you may have had a slight malfunction, but don’t worry, Joseph here can—”
It was the wrong thing to say. “A malfunction? That’s what the captain said, right before he tried to take me out of action.”
“What did you do? What happened to the captain?” James asked again.
Is this what it had been like for him on the Perimeter? This standing on a knife’s edge? What was it he’d said, about the synadroids? They hurt themselves…then one night, one of them turned on us. I was the only one who survived.
“I disciplined him the way we did other mutineers. You can’t have mutiny aboard a vessel of this sensitive nature.” His lips twisted again, and his fingers dug into the leather of his chair.
James’s breath rasped in Pine’s ears, ragged and shallow, his face sallow in the light.
His hand moved at his side as though checking the security of his weapon, and finding none, seized the fabric of his trousers.
Pine had to diffuse the situation, and quickly. Maybe the captain would listen if it was just the two of them, synadroid to synadroid.
“James? You should take Tunny and Joseph and see if you can find another solution to our problem. Maybe Tunny has a few ideas. Anything, no matter how risky.” She spoke low, knowing it was pointless. Charles had better hearing than a human.
“I’m not leaving you here, alone with him.”
“Please, James. I need you to trust me.”
“I do trust you. I don’t trust him. Not when I know what he’s capable of.”
“I need you to trust what I’m capable of.”
The muscle in his jaw leaped as he struggled to choose. “Pine—”
“Please.”
He shook his head but relented. “Joseph, Tunny, I think we should go. Let the captain and Pine speak in private.” James tilted his head toward the synadroid. “Captain, by your leave?”
The captain tugged on his lapels and nodded graciously back.
The set of James’s shoulders told Pine how much it cost him, the will it took for him to walk out the door and close it behind him, and her heart nearly burst.
“Now it’s just us,” Pine addressed the captain. “You know that I can’t lie. It’s over. You need to do the right thing and take us up to the surface.”
“The right thing? Abandon my duty?”
She feigned surprise. “You’re not abandoning it. You’re carrying it out.”
He steepled his fingers under his chin. “How so?”
“There are still people alive on this ship, but they won’t survive forever. If you take us up to the surface, they’ll live. And no more people will become trapped. The people here now aren’t supposed to be. They’re not your prisoners.”
“Do you know what will happen to me if I break protocol? I will be a defector. I will be terminated.”
“But you’re not. You’ll be a hero.”
“A hero?” He mulled it over, and for a moment, it seemed he would acquiesce. Then his mouth convulsed again, a spasm that rippled across his entire face. “And then what? If what you’re saying is true, what will become of me? A secret captain without his secret ship? They’ll destroy me.”
“No, they won’t. Look at me. We were emancipated. We’re no longer indentured to our original tasks. You can find a new life.”
“Emancipated? You mean we’re now considered equal?”
Pine faltered. What did she tell him? The truth? Or should she lie to save them? He didn’t know she could lie; in his eyes, whatever she said was true.
The captain stared at her expectantly, his face smooth.
She closed her eyes and bowed her head. “We— No. We’re not legally free, not yet. But—” She raised her eyes to his. “It will happen, I’m sure of it. It’s just taking time and—”
“Then I will be destroyed.”
“No—”
“You can’t know that. I’ve done what they’ve asked of me. I fulfilled my duty more than any human, and they will destroy me. What else would they do with a synadroid with my history?”
“Perhaps the military can put your skills to use elsewhere? Hire you.” But he was right. They’d retired other androids for less. Aside from Tunny, he was one of th
e few beings alive to know about this prison, this black site. At best, they would wipe his memory. But Pine suspected that would be more trouble to them, more uncertainty, than he was worth. Could she really, in good conscience, convince him to go to his death?
No.
“You’re right,” she said aloud. “I don’t know what they would do with you. But I could ask Joseph to speak on your behalf. He knows—”
A clanging rang out down below, like a call to war.
The captain shot out of his chair. “What was that? What are they doing down there?”
Pine made her face indifferent. “I’m sure it’s nothing. Tunny’s probably just fixing something.” James, is that you? Whatever you’re doing, please, hurry.
The racket obscured the crack of the captain’s fist smashing into the side of Pine’s face.
“Joseph, we need to have faith in her,” James said as Joseph stared forlornly at the control room’s closed door.
“I do. You know that. It’s just…she’s—”
“Your daughter, I know. But we each have to play our part now.” He put his hand on the older man’s shoulder. “Believe me, I don’t like it either.” Leaving Pine alone in that room had been one of the most difficult things he’d ever done. He just prayed it hadn’t been a mistake.
“So why are we out here?”
“Because she’s protecting us.”
“You mean, she’s afraid we’ll make the situation worse.”
“Yes, that is what I mean.” James didn’t have time to sugarcoat it. “And she’s right. Don’t look at me like that, Joseph. She’s perfectly capable in there. If he’s going to listen to anyone, it’ll be another synadroid.”
“But what if he—”
“Don’t think like that.” And don’t you dare consider it either. He put his hand on Joseph’s shoulder as the older man hung his head. “Now, quickly, let’s do our best to help her by finding a way out of this damn hole.” James crossed his arms over his chest, resolute.
“I thought the whole point of leaving her was so that she could convince him.”
“She’ll do her best, but I think the captain’s beyond that point. We need to be prepared for a no.” Contrary to his façade for Joseph’s sake, James ached to smash back through the door, barrel into the room, and snatch Pine away. If the captain had touched her, he would crush him with his bare hands—