Rogue Stars

by C Gockel et al.

  “And undoubtedly shut down,” Ghost said with a scowl.

  “Can you do anything?” Noa said in a normal voice.

  Ghost’s eyes darted side to side. “I built the mainframe. The mainframe that controls everything!” His voice was angry, defensive.

  “Can you open it?” Noa demanded.

  “If it’s connected by hardline. These things are quite primitive and … ”

  “Do it,” Noa commanded.

  Ghost continued to look around nervously.

  “James and I will cover you,” said Noa.

  “Okay, okay, yes.” Ghost shook his head, sank to the ground, and pulled his knees to his chin. “Trying to access now … ”

  Noa kneeled on one knee, and James did the same. Swinging her rifle around, she peered through the sights, looking for any sign of movement, but saw none. In the direction of the depression, she heard the sound of glass crashing and Gunny shouting, “Another.” Oliver was crying, and 6T9 was saying, “Eliza, I believe the child is in need of assistance.” But other than that, and the ringing in her ears, it was eerily quiet.

  “I don’t like this,” Noa said.

  “You’d rather they be firing at us?” James said.

  Noa’s fingers twitched on the trigger. “Someone should have confronted us here.”

  James only grunted.

  “Ghost,” she said. “Can you open the elevator?”

  She only got a mumbled chant in response.

  High above them, a ptery called out. Noa felt a bead of sweat prickle on her brow. Peering through her sights, she methodically swept the museum wing, first, second, and third floors. No one moved inside, and then she dropped her gaze to the junction between the branches of the building. In the double doors there, she saw a shadow move. She heard one of the doors click. “We’ve got incoming!” she said.

  “I only see one figure,” James replied.

  “Could be a single guy making sure the museum has been evacuated.” Noa continued to gaze through her sights. “Could be armed … Be ready.”

  Over the sound of her own heart, she heard the door click again. Noa was ready for the Guard, or even just museum security. She expected to see a weapon raised. She expected gunfire. Instead, a man awkwardly sidled out the door, holding his hands above his head. The instant she saw his profile, Noa screamed.

  Noa’s shout nearly split James’s eardrums. “Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!” An instant later, she was springing to her feet, lowering her rifle, and shouting, “Kenji, Kenji, it’s me!”

  It took a moment for James to recognize the man. He’d seen the adult Kenji in Noa’s memories, and at a distance when they’d approached his condo unit. Time must have added wrinkles to Kenji’s face and gray hair at his temples, because he looked much older than James remembered. He was broader, too. And he wore head-to-toe Luddeccean Green. James’s mind snapped the pieces together. Kenji followed the Luddeccean doctrines on anti-augmentation; he looked his natural age so, although he was younger than Noa, he looked older. And he was working with the Central Authority. He’d come from that wing to the courtyard, but why had he come here, unarmed?

  “I knew it was you, Big Sister,” Kenji said. “And I know what you’re trying to do.” He gave a slight smile and nodded. “It’s a good idea.”

  James couldn’t see Noa’s face from where he still half-kneeled, scanning the two wings of the complex, but he could hear a half-sob in her voice when she said, “We tried to come get you, but we couldn’t; now you’re here, and we can escape.”

  “No, Big Sister, no one’s going anywhere,” said Kenji, his voice soft, his words slow, as though he was talking to a frightened animal. “I’m going to get you help. I tried before … this time it will work. I’ll oversee your re-education myself.”

  At the words “I tried before” and “re-education,” James felt a prickle in the back of his neck, and heat race along every inch of his skin. Kenji … Kenji had sent Noa to the camp.

  Noa gasped and backed away. “What?”

  James was on his feet. “Manuel, cover Ghost!” he roared. He heard the engineer rounding the base of the Ark, but didn’t turn to look. He strode toward Noa and Kenji, imaging Kenji’s spine snapping in his hands, but then drew to a stop. The side of his lip ached to curl in a snarl. Noa would never forgive him if he hurt her brother.

  Kenji grabbed Noa’s hand. “I’ll get you help. You were always there for me, Big Sister. I’ll be there for you. I know you’re wrapped up in that Archangel Project, but I’ll get you help.”

  “No, Kenji, no,” Noa said, shaking her head and pulling her hand away.

  Kenji’s brow furrowed. And then he said, “I intercepted the signals, Noa … maybe you don’t know it … ”

  Noa put her hands on his shoulders. “You have to come with us, Kenji.”

  Putting his hands over hers, Kenji guided her hands gently down. “No one is going anywhere, Noa,” Kenji said. “I changed all of the passcodes on the Ark—and Dan’s access codes to the mainframe. But it will be okay, you’ll see. I’m protecting you.” Kenji looked down at her injured hand. “What happened to your fingers?”

  A ptery screamed above their heads.

  “They cut them off at the re-education camp,” Noa said in a strange, flat voice. James found himself taking another step forward. Noa tried to pull away, but Kenji caught her fingers—the ones she had left, James thought darkly.

  “No, Noa, you must be mistaken. I told them you were not to be harmed when I turned you in.”

  James felt like his skin was burning from within. He took another step toward Noa.

  Noa jerked away from Kenji, shaking her head.

  “Noa, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Kenji said, closing the distance between them.

  Noa stumbled backward. James couldn’t stop himself. He darted forward, rifle raised. “Stay away from her!”

  Kenji turned to him. His eyes went up and down, and his lip curled. “Noa, do you know what this is?” He pointed at James, took a step back, and his voice rose in volume. “He’s one of them!”

  “No, Kenji, no,” Noa said, shaking her head.

  “I’ve seen his picture from the chase footage in the North! He’s the one! He’s the one!” Kenji was screaming now. “You are consorting with the end of the human race!”

  “I’ve got it!” Ghost shouted.

  “No!” cried Kenji, looking over Noa’s shoulder in alarm.

  And then too many things happened at once. James heard an explosion from the direction of the sewer line. In the periphery of his vision, he saw shadows moving in the windows of both wings of the building.

  Spinning in place, Kenji threw up his arms. “No! Wait! Don’t shoot my sister!”

  Not trusting Kenji’s pleas for mercy, James wrapped an arm around Noa and guided her toward the lift. She didn’t precisely protest, but she stumbled beneath him, and he heard her half-sob, “No, Kenji, no.”

  Somewhere, Gunny shouted, “Go, go, go!” and he saw him maneuvering the civilians toward the Ark, 6T9’s blindfold still on but falling.

  “Eliza!” the ‘bot shouted.

  “I’m fine, I’m fine,” the old woman cried in his arms, “keep going!”

  Gunfire erupted from the building, and a bottle went rushing over James’s head. Others shattered on either side of him and Noa. The remaining Molotov cocktails, he realized. The bottles caught in the decorative planters and the tall, dry tropical grasses erupted in flames and smoke, putting a curtain of fire between the Ark and the Guard in the building.

  “Kenji!” Noa cried under James’s arm as they reached the now-open elevator.

  “Get in,” Ghost shouted, to everyone and no one.

  And suddenly the sky went orange and dark. “Fire retardant,” Noa said as James pushed her into the elevator.

  “Hisha!” screamed Manuel. A bullet whizzed by. Manuel stumbled backward and clutched his arm, his rifle sagging from the strap on his shoulder. He was pushed into the elevator by
the still-blindfolded 6T9 carrying a wide-eyed Eliza. Tripping backward, Manuel fell to the floor—and James could smell blood in the air.

  “Get ‘em in there, Chavez!” James heard Gunny roar, and a moment later Chavez shoved the rest of the team in, trapping Manuel, James, and Noa in the back of the elevator. The flames, smoke, and fire retardant were so thick that through the wire cage James could only see a few meters. He felt something on top of his foot and blinked down to see Carl Sagan scurry over him and up the metal cage of the lift. Gunfire was going off in an angry staccato from both directions, but he couldn’t see the shooters. Gunny stumbled into the elevator, face orange, rubbing his eyes. “I can’t see!”

  “Where is Hisha? Where is Hisha?” Manuel stammered on the ground. He tried to raise himself, but slipped. Metal creaked above their heads, and the elevator jerked into ascent.

  From the ground came the sound of Oliver’s wail, rising over the scream of bullets, and the roar of flames.

  Eyes tearing, Gunny was hanging out the still-open door. “She was ahead of me! Oh, God, the kid!”

  “The child is in distress,” said 6T9, setting Eliza down quickly.

  “Help him! Help him!” said the old woman.

  Noa was already pushing toward the front of the elevator. 6T9 was instantly beside her, blindfold gone. James felt his mind alight in fear and frustration. Couldn’t she ever keep her head down?

  Oliver’s wail rose again above the sound of flames. “Hisha,” screamed Manuel from the floor. James looked back to see him crawling, one-armed, toward the front of the elevator between the press of legs.

  “Manuel!” Hisha’s breathless call just barely rose above the din.

  “Stop the elevator! Stop the elevator!” Manuel shouted. The elevator jolted to a stop … but then began to ascend again, this time a little more slowly.

  “I can’t stop it!” Ghost panted. “A bullet … something is jammed.”

  Noa dropped to her knees. The ground was over two meters below. “Hisha!” she shouted, reaching out a hand.

  “6T9, help Noa, you’re stronger!” Eliza shouted.

  The ‘bot reached out a hand to Hisha, too. The woman was jogging toward the elevator, clutching Oliver who was screaming louder with each bullet that fired and ricocheted off the hull of the Ark—each one seemingly closer to the pair despite the curtains of smoke and fire retardant … They couldn’t see Hisha. A thought struck James. “They are aiming at the child’s screams.”

  As soon as the words and thought had passed from him, Hisha fell. Noa screamed, and James could see the muscles in Noa’s arms strain and knew she was going to jump. Oliver was still wailing on the ground. In his mind, realizations collided in a stinging flurry of electricity. Noa wouldn’t leave the child, she’d jump down there, attempt to rescue him, and make herself the target. Before he could second guess himself, or formulate a plan, he shoved Noa down and leaped over her and 6T9, landing on the ground next to Hisha. Above him, he heard Noa say, “Chavez, let loose with all you’ve got!” and heard gunfire from the elevator roar above his head. Noa wasn’t going to jump down—she was going to try and cover him. It was oddly a relief even as return fire came from all directions.

  James knelt down on the ground next to the fallen woman. She’d landed on top of Oliver, now only whimpering. Another bullet hit her side right before his eyes and her body jerked. Oliver wailed. “Hisha,” James said, getting closer, eyes stinging with the fire retardant that was congealing near the ground in a thick cloud. She didn’t move from where she lay, body huddled over Oliver. He touched her shoulder, and felt slick hot blood. He lifted her up and realized there was a bullet wound in the back of her head—and another in the front right above her open eyes. The wailing Oliver was coated in red and gore. The child took a deep breath, and for a moment his cries became soft gasps. James ripped the cloth of the carrier, picked up the child roughly with one arm. His mind went still, blank, and dark. The elevator was too high. He couldn’t make it. He knew it like he’d known how to kill a man with a roundhouse kick, or a quick twist of the neck, or that he could leap two and a quarter meters into the air. Oliver wailed again. Bullets screamed by them.

  He should run.

  Instead, against all logic, he jumped. Some useless part of his brain calculated that he would miss the platform by a good half meter, and even 6T9’s extended hand by at least forty centis.

  Even as that thought was passing through his mind, 6T9 slid down so he was hanging over the edge by his waist and caught James’s hand. And it was like a light had gone off in James’s mind; it spread to the world and every fiber of James’s being and for an instant, everything was brighter.

  And then 6T9 began to slip forward.

  Noa eyes were tearing as she sprayed bullets haphazardly into the wall of red fire retardant. It wasn’t all because of smoke or the cocktail of chemicals doused on the flame. She aimed high, telling herself their snipers would be on the roof. It was also where Kenji wouldn’t be. The elevator shuddered beneath her, and Noa hazarded a glance down just in time to see 6T9 catch James’s arm. Laying flat on the floor of the elevator, 6T9’s entire torso was hanging over the edge. And then it was like a slow-motion nightmare. James was dangling, Oliver was screaming, and bullets were still raging. One of the bullets hit 6T9 square in the arm, leaving a black hole. The ‘bot didn’t flinch, but he was quickly sliding forward. Eliza toppled on top of the ‘bot, shouting, “He caught them!” Manuel threw his weight on one of 6T9’s legs. Noa braced a foot on 6T9’s backside, trying to help, but she didn’t dare stop shooting, for fear the return fire would intensify. As she thought that, another bullet whizzed by James so close she saw a piece of his shirt rip and catch in the breeze. His face remained impassive, but his eyes briefly met hers. He could have climbed up 6T9’s body if he only let go of Oliver, but he didn’t.

  For an instant the scene was crystal clear, in the way that only battle could be. The Luddecceans were firing at James and 6T9. The sex ‘bot, a symbol of all that was degenerate, and the fallen angel of their twisted fantasies were trying to save a human child.

  “Pull them up!” Eliza said.

  “Oliver!” screamed Manuel.

  “I have no leverage, my darling Eliza,” 6T9 shouted.

  Still spraying bullets, Noa half-turned her head and snarled at the students, “Pull him up!”

  Snapping out of their shock-induced comas, the students dropped to the floor and began pulling the ‘bot backward with Manuel and Eliza. Chavez and Noa kept firing into the red cloud. Even Gunny was firing. His eyes were weeping and shut from the sting of fire retardant—but they were all firing blindly anyway.

  The elevator jerked so quickly she nearly lost her footing. Just as she ran out of ammo, she heard scraping behind her, felt cool air against her back, and Ghost shouted, “It’s open!”

  “Eliza! Help guide Manuel and Gunny!” Noa shouted, dropping her useless weapon and falling to her knees to help the students pull the ‘bot, James, and Oliver into the elevator as Chavez continued to spray bullets.

  “Hurry, come!” Ghost shouted. Kara took Oliver from James, and James slithered on his stomach up into the elevator cab. Chavez grunted. “I’m out of ammo—”

  “Then go!” screamed Noa. “All of you!”

  Everything was a confusing blur of moving legs, intensifying gunfire, and another sound—a low roar. Engines. The Ark’s engines were starting. Noa gaped. Kenji had been wrong—about the mainframe, the elevator … and everything.

  “Keep down!” Noa shouted into James’s ear as he began to stumble upright. Nodding, he kept to his hands and knees. Joining him, she turned to the door of the ship. The door was an archway of light. She saw bullets impacting into the wall just beyond the entrance. She scuttled forward, James was beside her … but then he slipped and crashed to his belly.

  “James!” she shouted, grabbing him beneath the arm, preparing to drag him. But he got up a moment later, and they scurried into the Ark. “Do
wn!” Noa said as soon as they were inside. Flinging herself over James’s shoulders, she pushed. His body gave way beneath hers and they flopped together on the floor with James cushioning Noa’s fall.

  “They’re in!” Chavez shouted. She stood by the door, intermittently swinging around the door frame to fire a small pistol … a pistol that wouldn’t even be powerful enough to break the glass of the museum windows from where she was standing. Before Noa could shout at her to get out of the line of fire, the door slid closed. There was a sound like raindrops on a tin roof … it was the sound of bullets hitting the hull.

  She took a deep breath that came out shakier than it should have, even after taking fire. Her thumb found the stumps of her fingers. Kenji’s betrayal was so fresh that it made her feel physically heavy. The fingers of her left hand curled—and she felt the absence of her ring and pinkie finger. Her breath quickened, as though she were starting to hyperventilate, and she felt like she might be sick. Noa forced herself to calm, bit her lip, and told her stomach to untwist from its knot. She could not break down. Not now. Sliding off James’s back, she rubbed her hand over his shoulder, not letting him go—to anchor herself, maybe, or to comfort both him and herself. He was warm, solid, and real beside her, his tattoos dark on his arms, but fading. He had been a perfect stranger, not Fleet or Luddeccean. She’d met him in the snows of the North, and he’d had no reason to save her, but did anyway, whereas her own flesh and blood had sent her to a prison camp—and would have again, claiming it was to save her. Her eyes briefly caught sight of Carl Sagan, standing upright on his four back legs, waving in the air, his nose twitching. James moved, and she turned toward him. His cheek was pressed to the floor, his shockingly blue eyes were on her. He wasn’t a stranger any more. They were bound as tightly as anyone she’d served with in the Fleet. Her mind instinctively reached for James’s, and she let loose a flurry of emotions—relief and gratitude, and shame for Kenji—but James wasn’t hard linked to her, and the emotions never crossed the empty air between them. There was no time to say all she felt. “Come on,” she said, heaving herself up. “It’s not over—” And then her eyes caught sight of crimson on the floor, smudged by her body.