Not With A Whimper: Destroyers

by D. A. Boulter

  From the beginning, she hadn’t particularly liked Rogers, what with those flat eyes that seemed to show nothing inside the man. Afterwards, before he had left, she had almost feared him. He seemed somewhat less human than before. Now she knew the reason: Westorn’s perversion of her program had indoctrinated him – made him little more than a robot.

  Her stomach began churning. She could think of only one reason he accompanied them – he and probably more of the ‘success stories’. Westorn had them to ensure that none of her soldiers lived, should her reconditioning of them fail.

  “What is it?” Arch asked her.

  That frightened her, for if he had noticed something in her expression, posture, might not others do the same? Her thought turned in unwanted directions. And if Rogers were here, what did that mean for her and Arch? If Westorn got his hands on the one thing he wanted, would he hesitate to dispose of them so that they could not do the same for any other?

  “Just tired, Arch,” she lied, and vowed to make a better show of acting the excited scientist embarking upon a new experiment that she felt sure would result in success and glory.

  Despite her vow, her apprehension grew with each further step. She checked in her luggage, receiving a chit for it, and watched the cases disappear into the heart of the building along conveyors. She received her emergency suit, and slipped into it, feeling ever more trapped, especially as they walked to the final departure lounge.

  There, they waited only ten minutes – enduring a short lecture on the suits – before their flight attendants beckoned them.

  Christy found herself seated between Arch and one of the dead-eyed soldiers who had passed her previous testing. Arch had the bulkhead seat; the soldier occupied the aisle seat – between her and the freedom of the exit door. And then that door closed, leaving her with no escape possible.

  “Something wrong, Doctor?” the soldier asked.

  She swallowed. “I’ve never been in a shuttle before. I only had my first ride in an aircraft the other day.”

  He gave a smile that failed to comfort her. “Safe as being on base,” he said. As she didn’t consider being on base safe at all, that, too, failed to help.

  But she smiled. “I hope so.”

  “Just relax, Doctor. Close your eyes, and pretend you’re in one of the flotation devices you put us in.” He handed her earphones from the compartment in the seatback in front of her.

  She gratefully put them on, knowing that if she were listening to music, he wouldn’t expect her to converse. He touched the controls in the screen in front of her, and a selection came up. She quickly glanced over it, and then chose classical. The warm chords of Brahms washed over her. She closed her eyes.

  When it came right down to it, she found the take-off, flight, and rocket burn less thrilling than a roller coaster she had sampled when younger. After the burn, in the zero-g of space, she opened her eyes. Beside her, Corporal Stanley – she finally remembered his name – appeared to be sleeping. Looking the other way, Arch had the wide-eyed, excited look that she had somehow thought that she would have, but didn’t.

  For him, it seemed, the flight was an adventure; for her it represented the loss of all that she had been, for she knew she would likely never return to Earth. A new life lay ahead of her, one fraught with danger – and possibly very short.

  Worst of all, her life now depended upon her allies, for her active part in the conspiracy had ended – she had gotten them into space. Now, she merely played out the cards already dealt. Sergeant Jensen and his crew would have to find and arrange their escape from Topside One and transport to one of the colonies.

  “Docking at Topside One in five minutes,” the words came through her earphones. She jerked awake, considerably surprised that she had fallen asleep. She pulled the earphones off, and replaced them in their compartment.

  Beside her, Corporal Stanley watched. “As I told you, safe as in your bed on base.”

  She pulled up a smile for him. “So you did, Corporal, so you did. Thank you for your care. I hope I see you again on the station – or are you transferring to a ship?”

  “We might meet again,” he said.

  Christy felt a shiver go down her back. He probably hadn’t meant the words to sound ominous, but they did.

  Gravity returned with a lurch, causing her stomach to momentarily want to give up its contents. She struggled against that for a few seconds, but then had to struggle no longer as everything returned to normal. Beside her, Arch groaned.

  “I wish shuttles had grav-gens,” he said.

  “Weight,” she replied.

  “I know. Thus, more room for cargo. I don’t care. Zero-g isn’t something I want to get used to.”

  She heard the hiss of the hatch opening. Stanley stood, opened the luggage bin, and pulled his bag from it. With a parting smile to her, he walked off. Christy waited for the crowd to thin, then stood, and joined the line filing out. Outside of the shuttle, Christy felt much better, though she knew that the station represented only a larger prison.

  “We’re here,” Arch said unnecessarily.

  “As much as I’d like to get to work, I hope we can get some sleep first.”

  Colonel Westorn’s voice startled her. “You have four hours before the cargo gets delivered.”

  “Colonel! I didn’t see you aboard.”

  “I caught an earlier shuttle. Would you like me to see you to your quarters for that four-hour sleep?”

  She laughed, though she felt very much like crying instead. “Yes, Colonel, I would be grateful for the escort. I’ll study the map for this place later.”

  Alone in her small cabin, she felt the tears start to come, and did nothing to hold them back. She had now fully committed herself. The only escape lay further away from home.

  * * *

  TOPSIDE ONE

  Saturday, August 7th

  “Dear God, is that the end of it?” Christy Burnett asked Arch.

  “The very last module,” Arch agreed.

  “I’ll bet our subjects will be glad of that.”

  Their subjects, the soldiers for whom Christy had risked all to get into space, had served as her helpers, setting up the equipment. She had barely a chance to speak with any of them, however – at least not concerning the subject she wished to speak with them about. One of the graduates of Westorn’s perversion always seemed to be about, and Colonel Westorn made frequent inspections as well, popping up unannounced. And, speak of the devil…

  “Ah, I see you’ve put almost everything together,” Colonel Westorn said, eyes looking over the place. “It appears exactly as our setup back in Denver.”

  “Yes, your people did good work there – and here, to get all the power cables just as I wanted them.”

  They turned together as Arch put down a piece of equipment. “Last one,” he said with a smile. “And I have one of the soldiers ready to test out the first bio-back suit in half an hour,” Arch said, switching on the module. “We’ll soon know if we connected all the wires in the right order or if we’ve wired the station to explode.”

  “Not funny, Arch.”

  “I’ll be back soon,” Westorn said.

  At least she was free of him for the moment. She looked around and saw Sergeant Jensen mostly suited up.

  “I’m ready when you are, Doctor. Let us hope for a success.” He held out his hand, and she shook it. His eyes held hers, and she felt the small item pressed between their palms. She gave a tiny nod.

  “Let us hope. Go into the zero-g chamber, and I’ll run you through the checklist.”

  Once in her control chamber, she glanced at the item he had given her. It looked like little more than an adapter for input jacks. On a hunch, she attached it to her headset, then plugged that into the command module.

  She waited.

  A light came on, and she opened the comm. “Hello, Sergeant Jensen. Can you hear me?”

  “Five-by-five, Doctor.”

  “Good. This is a modified head
set, and I wanted to ensure it worked.” She hoped that he would understand.

  “It works, Doctor.” He paused. Through the small window, she watched his body floating in the suit. She saw a more detailed view on the screen. “We have only a minute before I want you to un-modify your headset. Anyone listening at this moment will believe we haven’t yet made contact. But if we delay, someone may check. Do you understand?”

  “Yes.”

  “Good. First, congratulations. You have safely brought us to a space station. We are in your debt. Next, we have begun to make our escape plans. We assume you want to come with us. Is this correct?”

  “Yes. Both me and Arch – he figured it out. If either of us stays, we’re as good as dead. We’re not giving Westorn anything more, and he won’t get what he wants from this new ‘experiment’.”

  The short silence had her worried.

  “Acceptable. We will get word to you. Do you remember the man I threatened to kill, should you make a fuss?”

  Why would he bring that up? Didn’t he trust her? Was he threatening her again?

  “Yes, but–”

  “Trust no one. Just do your job, carry out your experiment. When we have to leave, one of us will mention that man’s name. At that time, do everything he – or she – tells you, when you are told. Understand.”

  She relaxed. “I understand.”

  “Good. Tell Dr Grant the same when you get a chance. Now, remove the mod and begin.”

  She pulled the jack out, removed the adapter, and replaced it.

  “Hello, Sergeant Jensen. Can you hear me?”

  “Five-by-five, Doctor.”

  “Good. First we’ll begin by you moving as I indicate. Then allow the suit to move you.”

  On the monitor, she saw his thumb come up. Her control panel indicated the same. She laughed. “When I tell you, Sergeant, only when I tell you. Okay, we’re about to begin calibration. First, turn your head to the right.”

  Two hours later, she finished. “Thank you, Sergeant. Bio-back suit #1 checks out. I’m going to take a break and let Arch check out suit #2. We should be ready to begin experiments in two days.”

  “I assume that’s your equivalent of ‘dismissed’.”

  Christy laughed. “Yes, Sergeant. Dismissed.”

  “Thank you, Doctor.”

  She watched him on the monitor. A tether drew him back to one of the doors into the chamber. Done. She turned off the console. The sergeant had given her things to think about. If the escape might come at any moment – and she needed to obey her handler completely and without question – she would have to keep her research data on her person at all times. Further, she should make up a ready-case, something that she could pick up if she got a few seconds to do so. Just the most important things.

  Outside the small booth, Arch waited.

  “Your turn. Suit #1 fully functional, no problems. We’ll alternate – every two suits – until we’ve finished. I’m going to go get a bite to eat. The next two are yours.” She could see he wanted to ask questions, but didn’t give him any opportunity. Who knew what sort of listening devices the Colonel had. She wondered why Jensen felt confident that Westorn couldn’t bug the control chamber itself.

  She walked out of the lab and onto the main concourse. She had seen a likely restaurant, and decided to spend some of her hard-earned government money there. She had credit chips with most of what she possessed – in case they might buy her something, or be useful for a bribe. Seated, her eyes roamed over the interior – unpretentious by any standard – and the patrons. A couple wore uniforms. She wondered if one of those had instructions to keep her in sight.

  “I’ll have the chicken entree,” she told the server. It occurred to her to wonder that they had actually lifted people from Earth to work merely as wait staff.

  She had just begun to relax with the glass of wine she had ordered, when she saw Sergeant Jensen walk through the door. She closed her eyes. How could she enjoy her meal if he were there, reminding her with his very presence of the leap she had made? She looked down at the floor, and hoped he would find a spot somewhere she couldn’t see him.

  “Hello, Doctor Burnett,” his voice nearby forced her to open her eyes.

  She looked up and smiled, though feeling like doing anything but smiling. “Hello, Sergeant. Something I can do for you?”

  “May I sit – the restaurant seems to have no more empty tables.”

  Great. A dinner companion who would not aid her digestion in any way. Yet she couldn’t refuse him without attracting the attention of others. She still didn’t know if any of them had her under observation. With a jumping stomach, she said, “Sit.”

  “Thank you.” He sat, and leaned back. “Nice place.”

  “Yes.”

  The server came over, and he ordered. Until their meals came, she kept up an inane small-talk conversation with him when all she wanted was to escape to somewhere she wouldn’t have to think on her situation.

  The meal seemed to go on forever, with her not even tasting the food. By the time the server came to inquire about dessert, she couldn’t handle it any longer.

  “No, thank you. I couldn’t manage another bite.” Which was truth as far as it went. But the server wouldn’t know the reason: she felt ready to vomit. “A pleasure, Sergeant. We will, no doubt, see each other again.” She stood and left, though the look he gave her told her he had something he wanted to tell her.

  “I’m not feeling well, Sergeant,” she told him. “I think I’ll go back to my quarters.”

  “Good idea,” he said. “Put your head down on your pillow for a bit. You’ll feel a different person after that.”

  Christy walked back to her room, fighting a tremulous stomach all the way. In the safety of her quarters, she went to her washroom and threw up the meal she had just finished. Washing the taste out of her mouth, she looked into the mirror to see the woman she had become. No longer someone in control of what she did, she merely reacted to the things thrown her way. Her time had passed.

  She wet her face, and combed back her hair. Slowly, the competent woman she had been reappeared. She took a deep breath. She should go back to relieve Arch, she knew. More than that, though, she needed to put her head down for a bit. She closed the door to her small bathroom behind her. Her bed, unmade from her morning nap awaited her. She straightened out the sheets and blanket, and then moved the pillow – and froze.

  There, beneath where the pillow had been, lay a small pistol. She reached out, picked it up, and automatically ejected the magazine. Full. She inserted the magazine and stopped herself just shy of pulling the slide back to inject the first bullet into the firing chamber. It felt good in her hand, just the right weight.

  Christy froze again – these were the feelings that the bastardized program had poisoned her with while she had slept those three days, not her own. Or had they now become so?

  Taking a deep breath, Christy replaced the weapon on the bed, and covered it with the pillow. She exited her room, and walked with a confident stride back to the lab. Looking critically at herself, she realized that this confidence wasn’t a part of her, but of the other Christine Burnett, the one who felt a surge of strength at the word ‘duty’, the trained killer – though she had never taken a life.

  “Hi, Arch. I’ll take over. Go get yourself something to eat.”

  He looked up. “Will do. The break seems to have done you good.” He stood. “Suits two and three check out.”

  “Great.”

  She took her seat and began running Private Anne Macintosh through the procedure with the fourth suit. While thus occupied, she heard the door behind her open.

  “Forget something, Arch?”

  “Not Arch,” Colonel Westorn’s voice said from behind her.

  An hour ago, she would have felt her stomach jump. Now? Nothing.

  “Come on in, Colonel. Just checking out the suits so we can get down to our real work. Would you like to sit down and watch? I can di
scuss anything while doing the checks. Mostly mindless work, but I don’t want anything going wrong.”

  The colonel chuckled. “No, we can talk later. I just wanted to see if you were settling in okay. I can see I needn’t have worried.”

  She turned her head, and gave him a genuine smile. “No, sir, no need to worry. As for me, I have so much to occupy me that I doubt I’ll have time to worry during the next week. But I did schedule a half-hour for that next Thursday.”

  They both laughed, and the colonel left after taking one more look around. The rest of the day and the next went by without incident and, before they closed the door on the lab, Christy and Arch had finished with the remainder of the suits.

  “We can begin tomorrow,” she told her tired partner.

  “If you say so. I’m so ready for sleep – and not three hours between shifts.”

  She thought of the pistol lying beneath her pillow. “I’m hungry.” She hadn’t eaten a real meal since vomiting – only small snacks. She thought she would have no problem now.

  * * *

  Wednesday, August 11

  Sergeant Jensen slipped through the door and found Corporal Tieff waiting for him.

  “Followed?” Tieff asked.

  “No. They think they have everything covered. Where could we possibly go? And they still seem unaware that we know what we know.”

  Tieff nodded. “They don’t even appear to have bugged our quarters. At least not with anything we can find. How’s the doctor holding up?”

  Jensen sat down in one of the plastic chairs. He found it amusing that each one had a seatbelt on it, so one might remain sitting in it if the station went zero-g. The seat itself he had latched to the deck in floor indentations made for just that purpose.

  “Holding up okay. I slipped her the weapon. As soon as she picks it up, she’ll get a surge from the programming. And how did you get on?”