Unknown

by Microsoft Office User

  The yellow slivers of light burned deep holes into Sam’s face and forehead. Sam stood for a second in disbelief, then collapsed on top of the chair, his eyes locked in a skyward death pose.

  As smoke filtered from the three burns on the traitor, Adam let go of the weapon, and it bounced onto the floor, its metallic tinkle rattling in echo against the walls of the silent room.

  He turned and walked out, and he had no idea where he was going.

  77

  I

  n the same instant Bryan prepared to say farewell to life, he landed hard on top of a wildly erratic Sprint piloted by a computer program not qualified for the job.

  “Oh, damn.” The wind battered him, and he felt himself sliding down the side of the vehicle. His right hand was effectively useless, a porridge of blood. He reached out and grappled with his left hand onto a dorsal weapons port. But again, his feet were dangling, and Bryan couldn't tell what part of his body wasn't in pain.

  “Matilda! Matilda! Retract the goddamn doors. Do it now!”

  Instead, the Sprint surged in retreat, its retros in full fire.

  “Retract, not reverse. Dammit, Matilda. You're killing me out here!”

  As the Sprint wobbled, its doors lifted up and out. The wind blew his hair into his face as Bryan reached with his left leg for the edge of the entryway. He knew how it must feel to attempt to stand erect against the incoming brunt of a hurricane. The position was incredibly awkward, and he knew not even an acrobat could pull this off without the use of the right hand.

  He screamed as he placed the bloodied hand against the weapons port, then reached with his left and gained sufficient leverage upon the entry.

  “I'm not going to die after getting this close,” he whispered to himself, then counted. He took a deep breath and kicked off with his right foot. He pulled himself in, his left limbs bracing him as he leaped into the cabin of the vehicle. He crashed to the floor, twirling around on his back.

  He winced, shouted to Matilda. “Close the doors and let's get the hell out of here.”

  “DOORS ARE CLOSING, BRYAN. AS YOU KNOW, I HAVE EXCEEDED THE PROTOCOLS OF MY PRIMARY PROGRAM. I HOPE I HAVE NOT DISAPPOINTED YOU IN THIS EFFORT.”

  “Am I dead, Matilda?”

  “NO, BRYAN. YOU ARE ALIVE.”

  “Then you haven't disappointed me.”

  Bryan would have laughed had he not been hurt in so many places. It was only by sheer luck he pulled off this stunt, having been able to transfer Matilda's protocol sequence to his personal business Sprint less than a minute before such access codes were stripped away. That the vehicle was parked on Dome's upper platform was a saving grace, especially given it took so long for Matilda to pilot the craft such a short distance.

  He tried to brace himself against a swivel.

  “Get us out of here, Matilda. Immediately.”

  “YOUR DESTINATION, BRYAN?”

  “At this point, simply choose the fastest route out of the AFD. I'll worry about the rest later on.”

  “WOULD YOU LIKE FOR ME TO ENGAGE BOOSTERS?”

  “Please.”

  Gravity took its toll as the Sprint jolted then accelerated from Dome. Bryan was tossed back, but he managed to hold on to the swivel. Slowly, he gathered himself up and took a seat.

  He knew the Front Guard would be dispatching Sprints to engage in pursuit, but he wasn't concerned – at least not for the moment. There would be a delay as they tried to weigh the fallout from the chaos in his office, and he was certain Travert would be just rattled enough to hesitate.

  As the Sprint accelerated to full velocity, either Matilda became a better pilot, or the automated systems kicked in, because the vehicle was moving smoothly.

  “It's over,” he whispered.

  Bryan knew the past 22 years of his life – and everything he tried to accomplish during that time – had just been erased. The PAC would see to that, whether he was caught or not. Dead hero, dead traitor, fugitive. Didn't matter.

  He lived a life of material comfort. He lived a life surrounded by people of power. And he learned how to love a woman. But now, as he flew off in whatever direction Matilda took him, Bryan Drenette understood the world would never again offer him these things.

  On this day, he forfeited everything but his ability to breathe.

  And soon, he would have to say goodbye to his only friend – a computer program that would have to be dismantled once he finally ditched this Sprint.

  For a moment, he wondered why he had not simply jumped to his death when he had the chance. It would have been so much easier. Now, he would be more alone than ever.

  So maybe that's not the worst fate, he told himself, and he thought of Janise. He remembered her words from a time when they had hurt him very much. But at this moment, for reasons he was just beginning to explore, Bryan found a certain comfort in those words:

  “I can have no partners ... only accomplices.”

  The Sprint maintained its course into the harsh night, and Bryan vowed that somewhere, some day, he would find another accomplice.

  78

  A

  dam Smith was sitting on the spiral staircase, and he rested his head against a railing.

  “I am always amazed,” he said, barely above a whisper.

  “Amazed by what, sir?” Michael Straczynski sat with him, a couple of steps down. Straczynski and a few other techs began to return to the command pod after the all-clear.

  “History. Our individual fates. How the single action of one man or woman can so drastically alter the future for so many. And how, in the end, nothing is altered.”

  Straczynski listened patiently to these ramblings, staying close to Dr. Smith only because Rand instructed him to while Rand headed to the upper platform to inspect the damage.

  “I could have left Marte,” Adam continued. “I was chosen for the Andorran mission, but I refused to go when Marte was not allowed to join me. I think of all the pain and loss I've seen because I did not leave this world when I had a chance.” He shrugged. “But had I gone, Ari would never have come into my life. And in the end, I would be staring into the face of death either way. Wouldn't I? On Earth or on Andorran, the future has come back to where it began.”

  Straczynski struggled with his words. “We'll all miss Arilynn. She was the best migmaster I ever knew.”

  “The damage was minimal because the explosion occurred in the armory, which is our most heavily fortified chamber,” Adam said. “She knew. Somehow, she knew where to go. A single action saved so many lives. She gave us a future, assuming there’s still a point to it all.”

  Straczynski shook his head. He heard footsteps along the staircase.

  “We can still have a wonderful future, sir. Andorran's crew will be here soon, and I'm sure we'll have the command pod back up to speed within 24 hours. We'll be ready to go at them again.”

  The tears since dried upon Adam's red cheeks, and for now, he lost the capacity to cry. “Hmm. Andorran. When those folks see what's awaiting them, I wonder if they'd ...”

  “Oh.” Straczynski sat up, his jaw dropped, and he was staring upward. “Sir.” He pointed up the steps.

  Adam was slow to turn. He, too, heard the approaching footsteps, but he didn’t care which techs returned or who saw him like this. Only when Straczynski stood up and smiled did Adam try to acknowledge this new presence.

  It was still painful for him to stand up – his hip was going to need an examination by Dr. Solomon at some point.

  Two people were descending the staircase, and his eyes first latched upon Rand. And then he felt a dagger of pain sweep through his chest, and his breath was cut short. He fought with himself over what certainly must be a mirage.

  The woman was bald, her skin tainted by smudges of black. Her eyes darted in circles of overdrive, unable to latch on to anything in particular. And one of her arms clung desperately around the back of Rand as she leaned against him, visibly trembling.


  “Ari.”

  As Adam's ability to cry reemerged, his exhaustion – and the strain in his hip – vanished. He raced up the stairs, skipping steps.

  And when he stood within inches of his daughter and raised a nervous hand to touch her, to confirm that the only dream that mattered to him was in fact reality, Adam found himself without words.

  He placed both hands to her face, and they cupped gently against her cheeks, which were also smudged a sooty black.

  Her eyes stopped circling. Arilynn released her grip from Rand and hugged her father.

  “My god.” He turned to Rand as he embraced his daughter. “How?”

  “She's remarkable, Adam. Remarkable. When the uptechs began returning to their posts and assessing damage, a couple of them found her in the furnace, which fortunately had not been in use for several hours. She was sitting right inside the door, waiting for someone to come and get her out.”

  “What?”

  “She hasn’t told us what happened, but it seems obvious now that right before the bomb detonated, she flung herself into the armory's jettison vent, which leads to the furnace. Somehow ...”

  Adam smiled, hugged Arilynn tighter. “Rand, she knew. My daughter has lived here most of her life, and she knows every square foot of this facility. The woman we thought we lost four years ago is not gone. She's still inside, and she told Arilynn where to go. She's not gone, Rand. She's not gone. Are you?”

  He kissed his daughter upon her nose, and she giggled.

  “Lovedaddytoo.”

  They held a silent embrace for another moment, and Adam looked across at Rand, who stepped away to give father and daughter some space.

  “We're going to rewrite the rules,” he said. “Everything has changed, Rand. It's time to fight the way we should have a long time ago.”

  Rand offered a nod of emphatic agreement.

  Adam and Arilynn returned to their quarters, and she told her father about a journey she took through a tall castle in search of a monster. It was a very hard journey, she said, and she was glad to be back in her own bed. She was ready to sleep.

  79

  G

  uard against all possibilities, no matter how improbable, Lara. Consider nothing beyond reason.”

  Miguel Navarro's words were many hours old, and so much had transpired since he came out of a haze to utter them. But at this moment, they ricocheted across the forefront of Lara's memory, and they were both haunting and somehow revealing.

  “That's why you were killed, wasn't it?” She whispered, still alone in the hibersleep pod. “You knew something big about the Fyal.”

  She studied the screen again and allowed the names – including her own – to soak in as suspects in his death. Miguel wanted her to consider any possibility. Fine! I will. But I didn't do this.

  A computer announcement shook her: “DECON INTERLINK PROGRAM COMPLETE. INTERLINK FAILURE CONFIRMED IN STASIS RELAY 14.111660033. MAJOR MALFUNCTION UNREPAIRED AS RESULT OF DETONATION IN STASIS CHAMBER. HOW DO YOU WISH TO PROCEED?”

  Lara rubbed her hands together. Despite the program's three-dimensional viop presence, she forgot it was running. And now, it seemed trivial. I don't need this.

  “Computer, await further instructions on interlink program. Store my personal program in my personal archive. I'll be retrieving it shortly.”

  She grudgingly tapped the vocal end of her RIF.

  “Olivia, the interlink is complete, but I'm not sure where to go with it from here.”

  - “thanks, Lara. Be right there.”

  I must have been too general in my questions, Lara deduced. I need to narrow them down, give a more specific time frame. So, when did I ever access nanotrax?

  The doctor entered while Lara was deep in thought. Olivia took a quick look at the interlink update and frowned.

  “Hmm. I should have known there'd be a problem with this relay. The stasis chamber was so badly damaged, even the Tube entry was jammed. Well, there are two ways to approach this. We can take the time to repair the relay, which could take hours – something we don't have – or I can request a pod jettison.”

  - “you sure about that?” Peter asked over the RIF. “A drastic move at this stage.”

  “Drastic, yes. But Richard Kreveld's design for Andorran allowed that the biological storage pods would be among the easiest for the ship to de-couple in the event of a contamination emergency.”

  - “yeah, I'm aware of that, Liv. But we got a ship incoming. If we're gonna go that route, I'd suggest we wait until the ship is in the cargo bay. No sense in risking collision.”

  - “yes, agree,” Boris added. “Jettisoned pod would have minimal retro fire.”

  - “let's junk it,” Fran said. “Nothing left in there we could salvage anyway.”

  “Very good. I'm going to program the interlink to bypass the stasis relay. But pod jettison will have to be controlled from the command deck, Mifuro. I'd suggest you program the jettison for one minute after the rendezvous craft is safely onboard, then proceed with the decon sweep immediately afterward.”

  - “confirmed, doctor. Anatoly will handle that. I am receiving an incoming transmission from the rendezvous craft.”

  - “about damn time,” Peter added. “You folks are not going to believe what the hell we're seeing in the IPG. Goddamn Fyal everywhere!”

  - “still they do not acknowledge you?” Boris asked.

  - “damndest thing,” Fran replied. “SOBs sure seem to be almost completely corporeal, but they either don't see us or don't want us to know they can see us.”

  - “we'll report back when we've got more to go on, folks.”

  Olivia quickly completed the revisions in the interlink program. She tapped off her vocal link on the RIF and turned to Lara.

  “I don't feel good about what I'm hearing from Peter and Fran. Don't feel good at all. And you?”

  “I'd rather not think the worst. We've already been through so much, Liv.”

  “True. And it's very possible that ‘the worst,’ as you call it, might be waiting for us on Earth and not in the IPG. Look, I'll have the archival download completed in a few minutes, and then I'm going to the IPG. I know, I know. I have different orders. But I turned off the vocal link because I didn't want my feelings to make the situation even more tense than it already is.”

  “And what are your feelings, Liv?”

  “That before this is over, those two in the IPG are going to need some help. We're covered on the command deck and in the cargo bay. I just think we're not playing it safe enough in the IPG. I'll let you know when I'm ready. It wouldn't hurt if you came along.”

  Lara simply nodded, then hesitated. “I ... OK. You're probably right, Liv. I've got a few things to finish up here, and I'll join you. I'm downloading my personal archive. Who knows? I might not get another chance before we leave.”

  “True.”

  Lara offered the doctor a weak smile until she was alone again, then sat down quickly at the workstation.

  I did not do this!

  She tried to ponder the possibilities, and knew that if she was going to get anywhere, then the issue of the nanotrax had to be resolved.

  “Computer, recall my last program and break down the information for me.”

  “CONFIRMED. BEGIN.”

  “List all times when I accessed nanotrax emulsion. Also, if you know the purpose for which the nanotrax was used, please include that information.”

  “PROCESSING.” The computer needed only a handful of seconds. “LARA BETTINA SINGER LOGGED ACQUISITION OF 5.2 CUBIC CENTIMETERS OF NANOTRAX EMULSION AT 16:35 HOURS, STANDARD DAY 41, ROTATION 37. ACQUISITION INDEX NUMBER 45332. SITE OF ACQUISITION: BIOLOGICAL SUPPLIES POD 4. PURPOSE FOR ACQUISITION NOT STATED.”

  “Was that my only access to nanotrax?”

  “CONFIRMED.”

  Lara was breathing only a little bit easier because this final rotation was the mission's 46th, and
she last accessed nanotrax on rotation 37. But she knew that just because she got hold of the emulsion many years ago did not mean she used it ... before today. I didn't do this.

  “Computer, access all archival memory for the standard day I acquired nanotrax, and search the hibersleep and stasis systems to determine if a supply of nanotrax was introduced into them.”

  “CONFIRMED. PROCESSING.”

  Lara stared down the long, sterile hibersleep chamber and studied the empty sleep pods. There were more echoes in her mind: Sh’hun’s Nya-phur’um needed a second traveler. One of us. Carry out its destiny.

  This time, she was shocked that the words floating across her mind for the past hour began to form whole sentences. And she realized something else: These aren't my thoughts. Someone is talking to me. Someone was talking to me. Warning me.

  The voice seemed almost familiar. Almost.

  “PROGRAM COMPLETE. 5.2 CUBIC CENTIMETERS OF NANOTRAX EMULSION DELIVERED THROUGH INTAKE CONDUIT 194-B FOR DELIVERY INTO REFRIGERANT SYSTEM OF HIBERSLEEP POD 6. DELIVERY COMPLETED AT 17:01 HOURS, STANDARD DAY 41, ROTATION 37.”

  “Who was my rotation partner?”

  “MIFURO NAKAHITA.”

  Lara cupped a hand over her mouth, and she felt a tear pour from the corner of one eye. Her memory returned: She had indeed accessed the nanotrax shortly after Mifuro, upon running a standard diagnostic program, detected levels of the emulsion dropping below optimal status in that particular pod. It was such a routine procedure, been done so matter-of-factly, that it would have been lost as another brief, insignificant episode in an otherwise dull day somewhere within that eight-month rotation.

  “Thank you, computer. Thank you.”

  “YOU ARE WELCOME.”

  “That means we've got three possibilities.” She reviewed the other names the computer displayed earlier: Peter, Fran, Olivia. How could any of them have done this? Why?

  “I need to regroup. Computer, I want to narrow the search of common questions from my first program and add one additional question. Regarding access to nanotrax emulsion, reduce the window to the past six hours. Also, please list all those people other than myself and Miguel who have entered Miguel's quarters during that time.”