Omphalos

by Harper J. Cole

  “That ain’t gonna be easy,” said Annie. Then the colour seemed to return to her face, and her voice too. “What am I sayin’? Been tinkering with broadcasting tech since 5th grade. Gimme the specs and I’ll find a way.”

  Hunter smiled. “That’s the Annie I know. Let’s talk about what you need…”

  They were nearing the end of the long crew quarters corridor now. A couple more minutes and there’d be in the airlock, then outside. Hunter felt sure they’d have the outline of a plan in place before they returned to the ship.

  Two figures turned the corner a little way before them: Sandra Rivers and the ACM known as Ricardo. Somewhere about the fringes of her mind, Hunter noted that Rivers had her hands folded behind her back, a mannerism the captain didn’t associate with her. Given more time, she may have pondered what that might mean.

  The incongruous presence of the ACM was more striking. Dressed all in white, he looked ready to hit the dance floor: sheer lace shirt displaying a “v” of tanned chest, loose gold necklace. Gold on the buckle of his belt, too, and raised heels on his shining shoes.

  “Is something wrong, Professor?”

  “I’m afraid so.” Rivers slowed to a halt a few paces in front of Hunter and Annie; Ricardo continued on down the corridor, passing between the two of them.

  “Well, what is it?” A sudden, instinctive tension lent an edge to Hunter’s question.

  “It’s simpler if we show you.” At this signal, Ricardo whirled and fastened both his hands about Annie’s elbows, holding her firmly from behind.

  The technician cried out in surprise. “Hey! What’re you doing? Leggo!” Impossibly, the robot merely smiled politely and did nothing. Hunter tugged at his hands and found them rigid, his grip on Annie unbreakable.

  Fighting a rising wave of despair, Hunter said “ACM deactivate” with all the authority she could muster.

  No result.

  When she turned back to Sandra Rivers, the professor had a gun pointed right at her.

  * * *

  “I’m truly sorry, Captain. We need to take over now.” The first line was certainly true – Rivers felt a sick feeling of unreality as she held the stun gun. Never before had the professor even touched a firearm, always having felt an instinctive revulsion towards them. She was careful not to point it at the captain’s head, but still…

  Not a moment to tell her grandkids about.

  Annie was continuing to struggle in Ricardo’s grip, cursing at her lack of progress. “He won’t hurt you,” said Rivers. “I just needed to be sure you wouldn’t do anything foolish. I know you can be a trifle temperamental.” She kept her gaze on the captain as she spoke. Hunter wasn’t reacting as she’d expected – no angry demands to be told just what in the world Rivers thought she was doing. Instead, she’d shown shock only briefly before transitioning to a tense alertness. Her eyes met Rivers’ now, steady and calculating.

  “We need to take over?” she queried. “Just the two of you?”

  “Most of the crew are with me.” Rivers advanced cautiously. “Hold out your right hand please. I’ll be needing your wristband.” She didn’t think Hunter would try anything – after all, she was middle-aged and posed little threat to Rivers, even if one ignored the gun. Still, this wasn’t the time for complacency.

  In the event, Hunter gave up her wristband without resistance. That was a relief, as she would no longer be able to alert the rest of the crew that something was amiss. Annie was currently trying to do that very thing, but Ricardo, as instructed, was holding her in such a way as to prevent her hands from touching. When Rivers moved to take her wristband, Annie aimed a kick at her, which missed, and a shout of “Traitor!”, which hit squarely. The professor kept her face carefully neutral as she claimed the band and stowed it in her pocket.

  “You say you have most of the crew with you,” observed Hunter. “You thought that once before.”

  “This time I know it. There are eight of us involved.”

  “Maybe there were. I’d expect a few pairs of cold feet, once the reality of rounding us up at gunpoint sinks in.”

  Rivers frowned. “Let’s find out.” She touched her own wristband. “Ekaterina, what’s your status?”

  The Russian’s melodic tones were flattened somewhat by their passage through the airwaves. “We have Ms. Winters. She is not resisting.”

  “Good. Take her along to the cell.” No surprises there. Rivers now opened a channel to Iris. She and Barbara had been assigned to apprehend Shamecca Jackson in her quarters. “Iris, is everything going to plan?”

  “Not entirely.”

  “What?”

  “Jackson tried to call for help. I had to shoot her.”

  Rivers felt as though she’d taken a serious jolt of electricity herself. Hunter looked the same way. Just for a second, the two of them were of one mind again as Rivers asked, “How is she?”

  “Perfectly fine.” Iris spoke as though there had never been any doubt. “Just stunned. Her vitals are stable.”

  “Okay.” Rivers waited a moment for her heart to settle. “Okay, good. Take her along to the cell, but stay with her. Make sure she’s okay.”

  “Of course.”

  Rivers turned back to Ricardo next. “You, drop Annie off, then join me in the Hub.” The ACM turned his captive about and pushed her down the corridor. She went reluctantly, struggling all the way. One final tap of her wristband connected Iris with Dr. Little. “Wanda, are Bala and al-Hawsawi still in the Hub?”

  “Yes.” The doctor almost whispered the word – ashamed that Hunter would now know she was part of the mutiny, probably.

  In fact, the captain looked faintly pleased at the exchange. “Bala’s still with me then. Good.”

  Rivers closed the channel. “Let’s go to the Hub.”

  Hunter began to walk unhurriedly in that direction. “Shouldn’t you wait for Ricardo?” she asked, almost conversationally.

  “I can handle it,” said Rivers, falling into step behind.

  “If you say so. To be honest, I don’t entirely understand your approach. You seem to have managed to reprogram an ACM, and yet you’re only using one instead of all three.”

  “Minimising risk.”

  “It wouldn’t have been necessary to shoot Jackson if you’d had Ivan or Salomon on the scene. They could have restrained her quite safely. You don’t seem to be thinking with your usual clinical exactitude, Professor. How’s your head been lately?”

  Rivers reached a hand up to her crown, which was throbbing slightly. Then she dropped it decisively. “Quite clear, thank you. Clear enough to see through your attempts at psychology.”

  “And clear enough to command? Funny, I seem to remember beating you in an election that was your own idea. Perhaps my memory’s failing me, but I believe you may even have favoured me with a pledge of loyalty afterwards.”

  “If you think I’ve taken this decision lightly, you’re mistaken. Unfortunately, your moral code is just too rigid for this situation.”

  “I see. So now you’ll make a pact with terrorists and ride off happily into the sunset. I’ve actually come up with a better plan, if you’re willing to hear it.”

  “Sorry, but the crew won’t accept your slow, tentative approach any longer. You mean well but you’re getting us nowhere.”

  “My new plan might speed things up quite a bit. We communicate directly with Anasade, using-”

  “Enough, Captain. You had your chance.” Rivers felt a strong aversion to hearing the rest of Hunter’s idea. She had to stay committed to her own course, and the appearance of a tempting alternative might yet make her waver.

  Eyes forward. The worst will soon be over.

  They had arrived at the door to the Hub. Rivers motioned for Hunter to precede her, and the two entered. As expected, al-Hawsawi and Bala were there. Both were bent over consoles; both looked up when Rivers entered, first with idle curiosity, then with alarm when they saw the stun gun.

  “Please stay calm. I won’
t need to use this if you do as I say.”

  Bala took a step forward. “What is this, Sandra?”

  “Mutiny,” Hunter cut in firmly. “She’s trying to take over the ship.”

  Rivers nodded reluctantly. She could hardly object to the word, having used it several times herself, but it somehow sounded worse when the captain spoke it. It suddenly felt too hot in this room – she wiped at her brow in irritation and addressed Bala and al-Hawsawi again.

  “Step away from the controls. We’re going to head down to the cell. Don’t touch anything.”

  “Ignore her,” said Hunter. She gestured at the communications station, currently unoccupied but only four metres behind where Bala stood. “Open a channel to the Monosadan government complex. Tell Safri that we have a mutiny in progress, backed by terrorists. Ask for help.”

  Rivers raised the gun. “If you do that, I’ll be forced to shoot the captain. There’s a chance the shock will kill her.”

  Bala, who had already taken two backward steps towards the comms station, froze in place. But the captain spoke again, infuriatingly calm.

  “She won’t shoot. If you attacked her directly then she might, in a rush of adrenalin. Calmly pushing the firing stud while I stand here, unresisting? That’s another matter. Trust me, I know how to read people – this is a bluff. Call Safri. I take full responsibility for whatever happens.”

  “It’s no bluff!” Rivers felt her voice rising to shouting volume, and hastily reigned it in. “She can’t read me … if she could then why didn’t she see any of this coming? It’s been brewing for weeks. Step away from the consoles and come with me.”

  “Call Safri,” Hunter reiterated. “She’s got some mad fool plan to turn us into a battleship. We can’t allow it.”

  Bala and al-Hawsawi exchanged uncertain glances, clearly unwilling to risk their captain’s life. Bala took another half-step back towards the comms console, then stopped again when Rivers raised her gun meaningfully.

  “Fine,” said Hunter, “I’ll do it myself.” She stepped forwards, slowly but confidently.

  “Stop, or I’ll shoot.” But Rivers found that she could not shoot, just as Hunter had predicted. Her belief in the absolute necessity of the mutiny hadn’t wavered, but it simply wasn’t a strong enough motivator to risk murder.

  With that option denied her, she had little choice but to try and restrain Hunter physically. Two quick steps were enough to let her catch the older woman by the elbow and spin her around. “Stop.”

  Hunter used the momentum she’d been given to strike Rivers’ right hand with her left. The gun went flying. “Bala!” called the captain.

  The Nigerian scientist, who doubled as the Bona Dea’s security officer, was already in motion. Even as Rivers flung Hunter roughly to the floor and turned to recover the gun, she knew it was too late. Bala’s hands were upon her, spinning her around into an armlock, and she had more hope of flying back to Earth without a ship than of winning this fight.

  Rivers found herself looking down on the captain. Ironic, she thought, that her rival lay sprawled on the floor in her moment of victory. Then Hunter’s eyes widened, tracking a motion somewhere behind Rivers. There was a sudden impact, and Bala was knocked away, striking a console and dropping half to her knees before recovering and turning to face her new assailant.

  It was Ricardo. The ACM smiled lopsidedly at Rivers. “Time for your humble servant to show his worth, I think?”

  Rivers hesitated for only a second. “Do what you have to.”

  “Good.” The robot dropped into a combat stance, as did Bala. The two began to circle. “I am eager to learn whether this fierce amazon has taught me too well, or whether, perhaps, she has more secrets to reveal. Does she now regret making a weapon of me?”

  “Get on with it,” snapped Rivers, retrieving her gun. The robot was having entirely too much fun. I knew I should have used Salomon…

  Bala, for her part, looked deadly serious. She said nothing, and watched Ricardo’s every move intently, perhaps recalling exactly which techniques she had shown the robots back on Mahi Mata. Artificial warriors needed no practice to keep their skills honed – a physical motion, once perfected, could be reliably reproduced at any time.

  It was Ricardo who struck first. Rivers didn’t know enough about martial arts to say exactly which one he was using, but she recognised a roundhouse kick easily enough. Bala blocked the swishing leg with a forearm, simultaneously trapping it for long enough to deliver a downward chop that might have ended the fight right there and then against a human opponent.

  If Ricardo felt anything resembling pain, he didn’t show it. Jerking his leg back, he went smoothly into his next attack, feinting to the right before delivering a left hook that Bala couldn’t entirely dodge; it clipped her cheek, and even that was enough to send her staggering a few paces back. She barely had time to retake her guard before the ACM was upon her, a lightening-swift series of punches and kicks ensuring she stayed on the back foot.

  Ricardo will win, Rivers realised. It’s inevitable. The very best Bala can do is stalemate him for a while, and that gets harder with every second that passes. Lactic acid builds; limbs become sluggish. The mind gets tired and reactions slow. It’s the same for any human.

  But not for a machine.

  In total, the fight lasted for barely thirty seconds; it was a testament to Bala’s athleticism that she even kept it going for that long. It was trying to go on the offensive that finally doomed her – Ricardo caught her wrist when she attempted a slightly weary punch, twisting her body and chopping her across the back. Bala cried out in pain, and the ACM took the opportunity to finish the job with an elbow to the temple.

  Rivers was sickened. “Mind her back! Remember she has spinal damage.”

  “I forget nothing,” said Ricardo, sounding slightly offended as he lowered the stunned scientist to the floor. “My targets were carefully chosen so as not to ruin the work of art that is her body. You see? Your vivacious friend shall recover to charm us another day.”

  Bala did seem to be okay; she was dazed but responded when Hunter and al-Hawsawi went to her. Still, it was better to be safe than sorry. “I want her properly checked before we move her.” Rivers again contacted Dr. Little through her wristband. “Wanda, you’re needed in the Hub. Bala’s hurt.”

  “I … Okay,” came the reluctant reply. “But Lupa and her team have just signalled that they’re ready. What should I tell them?”

  Rivers sighed. “I’ll let them in myself. We need to take care of Chamonix as soon as possible. You get over here now, though.” She turned to Ricardo, and gave him the stun gun after a moment’s consideration. Surely that would be enough to deter Hunter from trying anything else foolish. “Guard them. Carefully.”

  The ACM accepted her offering with a small bow. “No harm shall come from them, nor to them, I swear it.”

  “Fine.” Rivers turned her back and gratefully left the Hub behind.

  Upsetting, she told herself as she jogged around to Medical. But this was never going to be fun. In fact, it could have gone a lot worse. We’ve subdued the human opposition with two scares but no serious injuries; if Lupa’s team can eliminate the hybrid then Phase 1 is over. Modifying the ship will be a picnic by comparison.

  Rivers knew that the hardest challenges would lie after the modifications, when they began aggressive actions against Anasade. But she kept those thoughts in the back of her mind, lest the magnitude of what she was attempting overwhelm her.

  Wanda Little passed her by in the corridor, first aid kit in hand. The two exchanged no words; Rivers felt she should say something encouraging, but a slap on the back was the most she could come up with. The doctor barely seemed to notice it.

  Passing through Medical, Rivers soon found herself inside the small Decontamination Bay. Its cleansing sprays would go unused; there was no time for such indulgences today.

  A brief moment to compose herself and catch her breath, then Rivers opened the air
lock doors – first the inner, then the outer. It was dark outside, as expected – night came fast in the forests of Monosade. Of Lupa’s team, there was no sign.

  There was a pleasant autumnal chill in the air, but this was not the time to enjoy it. Rivers waited impatiently in the entryway, her eyes slow to adjust to the gloom. When the Icebreakers appeared, it was with a suddenness that made her gasp in spite of herself; a four-fingered hand, swathed in black fabric, clamped around the doorframe by her feet, and Lupa seemed to flow up into the ship. Three others soon joined her, their faces and forms so thoroughly concealed that there was no guessing whether they were male or female.

  “Welcome aboard,” said Rivers awkwardly, the phrase sounding rather flippant under the circumstances. “Are you ready?”

  Lupa unsnapped what appeared to be some form of automatic rifle from a holster on her back. “We have the tools to face your hybrid.” Her companions showed themselves to be similarly equipped.

  “Good, then let’s waste no time. Follow me.”

  “We know the way.” Lupa brushed past the professor, leading her troops into the ship at a brisk run that Rivers found herself struggling to keep up with.

  They know the way? I didn’t give them any blueprints. It must have been Zarka. Quite a liberty he took there. She briefly found herself wishing that she’d kept the stun gun, but it was hardly going to be of any use if their visitors proved hostile.

  It’s still going to plan, she reassured herself. Hopefully Chamonix won’t know that anything’s amiss until it’s too late. We’ve managed to keep our takeover fairly quiet, though I don’t know how good its hearing is, or what other means of perception it may have.