by Kate Kyle
Jax blinked.
"That sounds a little too easy as a solution to the current problem," she said carefully. "Can you at least check if there is a backup? How can you be sure that the virus doesn't survive? What if the virus survives? What if there is something already hiding in the previous backup? What if the backup is corrupted? What-" she wheezed in a breath.
"Jax," he cut in waving his hand in front of her face. "Panicking is my job. You're supposed to say something like, 'is that the best you can come up with?'"
"Fine. Is that the best you can come up with?" she said now calmer.
"I'm afraid so. Now, pick the holes in it."
She stared at him for a few seconds. Was he being sarcastic?
"Why?"
"I need to talk it through with someone, and you're the only person available."
"I've no idea about your computer thingamajig."
"Tough. You're my teammate and I need your help right now. Remember, we're a team now?' he said and grinned, undoubtedly in a deliberately exaggerated way.
"Okay, okay," she said, trying very hard not to keep glancing at the panel. At least, the conversation was distracting her from her own internal stress that she had no control over. "How are you going to shut the system down?"
"I need to get into the main computer."
"Where is it located?"
"Somewhere in the ITC headquarters."
"Which is where?"
"Next door to the Si-Carb clinic. So, you go to the hospital and I'll go and power everything down."
"If we can get there at all," she said, glancing again at the panel. The light was pulsating even more furiously than before.
Or did she imagine it?
"Why?"
"Because this car is going to stop soon."
"How soon?"
"If only I-" the minicar wobbled, jerked forward and stopped.
"Oh, well, I supposed it's now," Jax said. Her heart sank into her heavy magboots boots. "So, we've got to walk from here, I guess. What did you say I needed to do in the hospital?"
"I need you to unplug the main system from its backup circuit. It won't take long. Maybe a few seconds. But if we don't wipe the hospital circuit, it'll re-infect the whole city all over again."
Jax bit her lower lip.
"Doesn't that mean all the automated life support stops?"
"Yes," he said. "It does."
25
Jax
Jax pressed her hand to the base of her throat, just in case her heart really planned to jump out of her chest.
"What do you mean it stops?" she asked once her voice was under control again.
SingMa tapped the door of the little capsule.
"Just like this thing: it ceases all function, and is dead-"
"That's right - dead," she gasped. "All of them will die. Including your friend, her son, if he's there, Rutger and my… my unborn baby…" she whispered.
SingMa's face tensed. He pursed his lips. Deep lines appeared on his high forehead.
"I'm sorry, but we don't have any other option. And we've got to go now." He gave her shoulder a little push.
Jax jerked her arm away.
SingMa climbed out of the minicar.
"You don't understand, or do you consider death reversible here?' she asked, opening the door, and following him out. There wasn't anything else she could do, although slamming the door in his face seemed a decent option.
Fortunately, the vehicle's door worked despite the battery being almost completely flat. The headlights were still on, and the dimming light let her see about fifty steps ahead. Better than complete darkness though.
"They may or may not die. There are only a bunch of them. And don't forget that among those who are there, is someone who's very dear to my heart," he replied, marching ahead. "You'd better hurry up."
"Where are you going?" she yelled after him.
He pointed into the darkening tunnel. "There should be an access door nearby."
She sprinted to catch up with him.
"Hang on a second. How can you tell me to flick a switch and kill all those people?' she asked. Her head was humming, and a big cold hand was tightening its grip on her windpipe.
"Because sometimes we have to risk the lives of a few to save the many?" he half-replied, half-asked, without looking at her.
He was marching really fast now, she had to trot to keep up the pace.
"And you're saying it just like this?' she snapped her fingers.
Un-fucking-believable!
"Fair enough, some people might die when we switch the network off, but they may not. There may be some sort of residual capacity, or charge that can keep the equipment going for a couple of seconds. There usually is. And people don't die immediately, even if their hearts stop for a moment, right?"
"No idea, I'm not a doctor," she replied.
Her chest felt tighter.
"Neither am I, but I know that lives of thousands of healthy, fully functioning people are more valuable than lives of a bunch of unconscious people who have no immediate chance of survival."
It came like a blow to her gut. A thick, iron-fisted blow, delivered from the cold, dark of outer space.
Her body shivered.
"What the fuck is that? How can you pitch one life against another?" she said. "And you call RR a place of ultimate equality where all lives are worth the same?" she said, keeping up the pace with him.
SingMa turned. His face was hidden in the darkness of the hallway, but she could feel the tension in the air.
"Yes, we're all equal," he said, without stopping or even turning. “We may not have the equal biological material, because we were all born on Earth. But here, we have been given equal access to the same resources and equal chances to do whatever we wish with what we've been given. You're free to choose what you want to do with what you've got."
"Really?" Her heart was pounding fast, not only because of the pace, but because she was furious with him.
"So my life is worth as much as yours?" she asked.
"If you choose to live your life to maximize your happiness and well-being that's okay, and your life is worth as much as it is worth to you," he replied, clearly short of breath. "But if you choose to enhance the lives of others, then your existence will be amplified by the existence and the impact of those whose lives will improve through your action. And that's how we can survive as a species."
She opened her mouth to shout something back, but she couldn't find anything suitable. Whatever she ended up saying, it'd be wrong.
SingMa's steps accelerated.
Bloody Rebels and their bloody self-righteous little utopia.
Why was she even doing this?
She trotted up to him.
"Ah, the famous Rebels' Republic spiel," she grumbled, once she was by his side again. "And you're choosing to make it instead of running to save the lives of so many."
"Because it'll be easier to do it with you. But you're free to stay here, in the hallway," he replied, without slowing down. "The air will last much longer here, but it'll get colder quicker than in the inhabited ring. I don't know when the ring will stop rotating though." He stopped and took a deep breath. "You, Earthians, you haven't really learnt, have you? Despite the years of pandemics, dramatic man-induced climate change, populist dictators appealing to your sense of being special and deserving to go back to the former glory, at the cost of others," he said crossing to the left. She followed him. A quick movement of air indicated they approached an opening in the hallway. SingMa turned in there. Jax followed him.
"You, fighters for your own, selfish rights, disrespecters of the rights of others," he carried on, striding ahead. "The anti-maskers and ani-vaxxers during the pandemics, the followers of the stupid, damaging conspiracy theories. Gun wearers to protect yourself against your imaginary enemies and defend your values, which are of course better than anybody else's values through the sheer virtue of you being a better person just because you believe so,
or your religion tells you so."
Oh, for fuckness sake... Her blood hummed in her ears. She stopped to catch a breath.
"You're rambling, SingMa," she called out. "That's a plain, self-righteous, sanctimonious rant. What's the point of it?"
The echo of his steps stopped. She could hear him breathing heavily a few steps away from her.
"What is the point of it?' he said, his words coming out fast. "Can't you see that we can only survive as a species if we work together for the greater good? We'll never reach the stars if we just hang out with our friends and family. We'll never fix our crooked, unequal society if we continue rejecting others on the basis of values and concepts, or imaginary gods, rather than that actual actions of real people. I'm going to get my bit done. You're free to stay here and die for your values. I can go and die for others, if needed."
She felt a movement of the air, and then, heard the footsteps, moving away from her.
Too far. She went too far. Too far backwards.
Fucking Earthian upbringing, everything drilled so hard into the brain… She might have disagreed with the Rebels' grandiosity, righteousness or smugness, but she couldn't disagree with SingMa's argument.
He was right. And hadn't she made a similar decision in the past, by risking her ex-boyfriend to save the lives of the unknown inhabitants of a nearby town?
"Wait," she called out, breaking into a sprint. "I'm sorry. You're right…"
She caught up with him, and they marched side by side along a wall in silence for a while.
"Here, a greenish dot, see?" He stopped and patted the wall. There was, indeed a faint glowing point just below his hand. "I was hoping there were still some of the original glowing markings. They're faded though," he added. "There is an emergency door ten meters away from here. They've not been used, since the system is designed to be serviced by machines. But there should be an emergency pack somewhere here, too."
An emergency pack? That sounded useful.
He marched on, counting his steps under his breath.
"Twenty," he said. "See, it's here," he said, a note of excitement and relief clear in his voice.
She came closer. A thin line glowed a foot above the floor level, pointing to the right.
"It'll be somewhere here," SingMa said, squatting.
She followed him.
Below the arrow, just above the floor, hung a box.
SingMa opened the box. The inside glowed, too, just enough to see the contents.
"That's a short-distance radio communicator," he said passing her one of the small, smooth boxes. "There are food and water rations," he said, pointing at the two remaining containers. "You can take them if you like."
"I'm fine, but I'll take it in case anyone in hospital needs it."
"Highly doubt it. The outage won't last long."
"If we succeed," she cut in.
"Yeah, sure. If we succeed. Because if we don't succeed, even this little portion won't be enough. The nearest help is days away. And even if any ships did come, they'd be more likely to plunder than to save us," he added grimly.
She felt compelled to comment.
"I'm afraid you're right. We're doomed either way."
"No, we're not," he replied, tapping at the wall. "There is a chance of survival. Help me find the emergency access and stop being so pessimistic. We have a decent chance of success, if we can get there on time."
"How do you know?"
"I've made the calculations."
"How?"
"Courtesy of the algorithm we all get when we join the Republic. The welcoming ceremony includes it. But we really learn to do it in the game," he carried on tapping. "The lock is here, but stop," he added and grabbed her elbow.
"What now?" she asked.
"We'll be stepping off the moving part of the ring. If you look down, you may be able to see the faint glowpaint."
She glanced at her feet. Indeed, a ribbon of the floor was slowly moving away from her.
A wave of nausea bulged in her throat. Jax swallowed hard to push it back.
She was a pilot, well used to spin gravity.
"Now what?" she asked.
"Step off it, quickly," he said and hopped forward, wobbled but landed safely on both feet just a little away from her. The section on which she stood was moving away from the part where SingMa was standing.
"Hurry up," he urged her.
She jumped, slightly miscalculating the distance. She landed just a few feet away from him, on all fours.
"Good," he said and stretched his hand out. She grabbed it and stood. "Now, we need to find the airlock leading to the passage to the habitation ring."
"Complicated," she mumbled. "Why wasn't it such a fuss in the minicar?"
"The vehicles use set connection points and it's coordinated automatically. The train platforms are located in immobile, locked segments, with everything opening and closing in perfect harmony with the movement of the rings. The same happens if you're riding a minicar - it's all fully automated. The system is now offline, and we have to use what we've got. We'll have to do the same thing all over again, but the ring will be moving in the opposite direction. It's over there."
He pulled her by the elbow, and she followed.
The airlock door was just a few steps away. They passed through the set of doors and stepped into another dark tunnel.
"Keep up," he said.
She did. He was still surprisingly calm, unlike in Vindolanda, or the shuttle.
Maybe it was because he was in his element. In the world he knew like the back of his hand. Or rather, the computer keyboard he had tattooed on his left forearm.
"You were talking about an algorithm before the locks." she said. "What is that algorithm?"
"The Priority Algorithm, you mean?" he asked striding ahead. "It's one of the founding principles. It helps us consider the right priorities to focus on."
"What do you mean?" she asked. "The lives worth saving?"
"Yeah, the good, old trolley problem. Do I leave things as they are letting the trolley kill five people, or do I flip the switch, so the trolley kills one person? Swap the people for babies, grannies, friends and foes. All sorts. Ethical dilemmas. Without even knowing it, we all go through it in various shapes and forms, and many times before we're even allowed to apply."
Their steps echoed in the hallway. A faint green dot appeared in midair.
"The other lock," SingMa said. "Remember what to do? Just in opposite direction."
"Sure," she replied, getting ready for the repetition of the weird steps. She did it in silence, focusing on the movements.
This time, her jump was perfectly measured.
"That's the door to the habitation ring," he said pointing into the darkness. "We're nearly there."
Jax relaxed her shoulders.
"What do you mean: without even knowing and before you join?" she asked as they cycled through another airlock.
"In the game," he said.
She could feel his gaze on her face.
"You've mentioned the game a few times, as if I should know better," she said.
"Sorry, I always assumed that all players are there because they want to get in," he replied.
"Get in where?"
"Here, to the Rebels' Republic. AdAstra is the Rebels' only recruitment tool. It's a sort of visa application program."
Now, all his earlier comments made sense.
"Wow, I didn't know," she said simply.
"I suppose you only know if you're actively looking for it. If you don't, you won't see the signs." He paused. The door leading inside the habitation ring opened. "We're here."
26
Rutger
Rutger mobilized whatever strength he had left in his exhausted, sore body to tighten his grip on Lulu.
"Get off me!" she screamed at the top of her lungs.
Rutger grind his teeth and held her tight.
She slithered and wriggled, but he'd applied the hold in just the right w
ay. She slipped to her knees and the screwdriver-strength shriek turned into a wail. What a relief. Plus, he knew she was able to breathe.
"Fuck off, you crazy monster," she hissed and pulled forward. Surprisingly strong for such a petite body, he had to squat beside to not let go of her.
Lulu went back to wailing.
He thought of threatening her with gagging, but didn't want to waste too much energy. Everything felt like such an effort.
He slipped onto his knees. That was more comfortable, at least for now.
What was he supposed to do with her now? He had to lock her somewhere where she couldn't do any damage. The control room was the opposite of that.
Rutger looked around. This was a high-tech control room with slick touch screens around the central island and smaller ones by every door. A single, swivel chair stood by the central work surface. Not much use.
Unless he could tie her to the chair with something. He looked around… An unused cable, a tie… a bedsheet…
A bedsheet!
But he'd need at least one hand to get it off the bed, even if he did manage to walk Lulu back to one of the bays.
His gut clenched. The side of his head started pulsating again. A wave of nausea travelled up his chest to his throat.
He gulped.
He had to sit down and rest for a moment.
But he had to hold Lulu. Unless he found a way to grow yet another arm…
He'd sit down for a moment, maybe he'd find a solution.
Rutger lifted his arms, pulling Lulu up a little. This must have done something to her breathing. She wheezed in a breath and paused her wailing for a moment.
"Let me go..." she pleaded, her voice hoarse.
"I'll loosen the grip, but you have to get up and walk with me. Understood?" he said right into her ear.
She jerked her head. He pulled away instinctively, expecting her to bite, but she didn't.
He pushed himself up, pulling her up with him. She offered no resistance.
"I... have to... do... something..." she said dragging her feet.
"Yeah.. yeah..." he grumbled. "Let's see..."
He moved step by step, half-dragging her, half-steering towards the swivel chair. Thank God it wasn't too far!
