The Dead Room Trilogy

by Stephanie Erickson

  “A little less what, Mr. Hawkins?” Kingsly asked, the amusement clear in his voice.

  “Unsavory.”

  Kingsly burst out laughing again. “Well, Mr. Hawkins certainly does know who I am after only a ten-minute conversation. How wonderful it must be to be able to read people as well as you.”

  Vega bristled at the condescension in Kingsly’s voice, but Mason didn’t react.

  “Mr. Hawkins, I assure you, there is no one like me anywhere in the sky. I will do what you’ve asked, if only to show the unbeliever that his savior is at hand.”

  Eighteen

  Work on the hack began immediately. Kingsly demanded nothing more than a laptop with Internet access and a server. Any server would do according to him.

  He claimed all he had to do was convince the bots that his server was their home server, their mother for lack of a better term, and then make nice with them. If he could, then he would be able to disable them.

  Seemed simple enough to Mason, but it was taking forever. They’d been up most of the night, and it felt like nothing had been accomplished. Every time a call came over the intercom in that conference room, Mason braced himself for another mayday. Another distress call. Another crash they would have to watch helplessly.

  Eventually, the major spoke up. “I think we should all disperse. Kingsly is hard at work, I’m sure. Right, Prime Minister Williams?”

  “Oh yes, I assure you of that much, Major,” Williams said.

  “Fine. I trust an update will come as soon as one is to be had.”

  “Yes, sir. That I can promise you.”

  “Thank you, Prime Minister. You’ve been invaluable today. Kingsly, good luck.”

  “Many thanks,” Kingsly said, although Mason could tell the convict was distracted. Mason hoped he’d already gotten to work.

  “We’ll notify you of an update when it comes,” the major said, looking directly at Vega. She nodded at him and stood, turning to Mason.

  “Well, let’s go,” she said.

  Lehman stood up behind her and shrugged, clearly exhausted. The dark circles under her eyes looked like they had dark circles of their own.

  “Fine,” Mason replied, reluctantly standing. He didn’t want to go back to his quarters. They were odd. Sterile. And after the whole shower with minimal soap and the razor incident, he didn’t feel all that clean. At least they had soap he could actually use on the mainland. As they walked back to their quarters, he took in the opulence around him. He couldn’t believe he already missed the simplicity of what he’d had before he came on board the Perseus. Was he homesick?

  After he’d spent so much time trying to get off the island, he didn’t think it was possible to feel homesick for it. When Ashley was still alive, maybe. But things were different now. There were possibilities, complications he didn’t even know could exist. He missed when his life was simpler. When he was a simple welder and Ashley was still alive.

  Win. Ashley’s words came back to him, and he felt a twinge of guilt. Was he feeling like giving up again? Maybe a little. He just wished his life would stop being such a struggle.

  None of them spoke until they got outside their doors.

  “Goodnight. Thank you for your help today, Vega. It is truly appreciated,” Lehman said through a yawn.

  “Certainly, Lehman. Anything at all you need, don’t hesitate to ask,” Vega assured her.

  “Thank you,” Lehman said as she walked into her quarters, tossing a small wave over her shoulder as she went.

  “Well, I suppose this is goodnight then,” Vega said.

  “I’m not really ready for bed. Mind pointing me toward somewhere I could think for a moment?”

  “Of course. I think I’ll just go with you, unless you want to be alone,” Vega offered.

  Mason wasn’t sure what he wanted, except that he didn’t want to be cooped up in his quarters. “All I know is that I don’t want to be inside that confounding sterile box. I need to move. To be under the starry sky. Something. I can’t just sit here while we leave humanity in the hands of an Ashby-forsaken criminal.”

  “Why do you use his name like a swear word?” Vega asked curiously, catching Mason off guard.

  “What?”

  “Ashby. You’ve said it a few times tonight, using it like a swear word. Why?”

  “Well, for many centuries, we worshiped him as our savior. I suppose it’s like taking his name in vain. I don’t know. It’s just part of our vernacular.” Mason felt stupid. She was right. Even after he’d read the journal, he still used the old phrases, even though they knew he was just a man who’d mishandled some of his talents.

  She led him to an elevator, and they rode up in silence. “I’m sure we have stupid things like that we say too. You’ll just have to hang around long enough to hear them.”

  Mason smiled, but he didn’t feel it.

  “What’s wrong?” Vega asked.

  “I don’t belong here. I want to be back on the ground, with the others. With…my family.”

  “You’re homesick.”

  “That’s one way of putting it.”

  “I’m looking forward to getting back on the ground and exploring. You know, as long as we don’t all die,” Vega said as they walked down a metal corridor.

  Mason ran his hand along the metal handrail, feeling how cool it was against his skin. “That would be ideal.”

  They fell into step with each other as they walked, and Mason enjoyed the silence that settled over them. People were already bustling around in the early morning hours, starting their days and totally oblivious to the peril they were in. Must’ve been nice.

  Mason shook his head, trying to shake the bitterness that wanted to settle on him. “Where are we going?” he asked, hoping a change of subject would help.

  “You’ll see,” was the only answer he got as they wound through the ship.

  It felt like they’d walked for miles. He was just about to start complaining when they came to a glass door. Behind it, Mason could see the sun rising.

  He threw the door open and plowed through without waiting for Vega to follow.

  She went to the coffee machine at the far side of the room while he took in the view. The sun shone brilliantly as it crested the horizon. If he walked around the huge room that was in the shape of a half circle, he could see the sea. Below them, he could see where the islanders were. He had no hope of seeing Mattli or any individual person, but he knew it was them because of the unnatural-looking semi-circle created by the fog of the bots.

  He sighed as he looked down at them, longing to be with them, but also longing to be free of the bots. “Do you think Kingsly can do it?” he asked without taking his eyes off the islanders.

  “Yes, I do. Do I think he will do it? I’m not sure.”

  She sat down on a plush, white couch with two cups of coffee, setting one on the small table in front of her before leaning back to savor her own drink. Mason remained standing with his back to her.

  “Ashley wouldn’t have been able to believe this,” he said so quietly he didn’t know if Vega had even heard. But he hadn’t said it for Vega. He’d said it for Ashley, hoping she could see what he was doing and would be proud.

  “How did you know her?”

  “We were friends when we were kids. Both outcasts, I suppose. Her match was a shit. Beat her. She ended up stabbing him in self-defense.” Once it was all out, it felt like a bit of an over share, and he cringed, waiting for Vega to judge Ashley, him, or the island. Maybe all three.

  “Wow. That’s amazing that she stood up for herself like that. What’s a match?”

  “Like a husband, I suppose, but chosen for you by our former government, which was the elders, in order to have the best chance at procreating to maintain the population of the island.”

  “That sounds…tough.”

  “It was.”

  “Who was your match?” she asked, and Mason didn’t miss the probing tone.

  “She died before we wer
e ever matched.” He left off the ‘thank Ashby’ he was thinking. She hadn’t been a very kind woman. In fact, she was put out by the fact that she’d been matched with a welder and not an elder.

  “I’m sorry to hear that. How long ago was that?”

  “Seems like eons ago. This may sound strange to you, but life was simpler then.” He sank down onto the coffee table and reached for the extra cup he assumed was his, letting the steam warm his face with very little intention of drinking it at the moment.

  “Life is more complicated when it’s threatened. For everyone.”

  Mason looked over at her, and she smiled softly at him. She held out her cup. “To life.”

  He held his out to her as well. “To life.”

  They were silent while he looked out at the vast nothingness below.

  After a few moments, Mason felt a little more relaxed, having gotten a feel for where the islanders were. “Any word on when those who wanted to come will be brought up?”

  “Actually, the first shuttles should be venturing down there soon. The major pulled me aside and told me they would be starting trips at first light. I told him how many wanted to come back, and he said that would be fine. As you can see by our accommodations, there are quite a few empty rooms. There’s plenty of space here for another thirty people or so.”

  Mason nodded, feeling even more relaxed. As it washed over him, he started to feel tired. But he didn’t want to sleep. He wanted to know the moment something happened.

  The sun was up in earnest, and he knew Kingsly had been at work for at least four hours. He wondered how much progress he’d made, or if he’d gone to bed himself.

  “You’ll get updates if anything comes through while we’re in here right?” he asked, suddenly worried they’d missed something.

  “Yes, I will.” She held out her wrist, revealing the square piece of glass attached to her wrist with a white band he’d seen in the restaurant. It almost looked like a watch. Mattli had an old wind-up watch, but he had a terrible time keeping it running. Mattli never knew exactly what time it was because of that thing. He had an easier time using the sun and stars like everyone else did.

  “What is that?”

  “It’s my comm. It gives me updates on my schedule, or if something isn’t working right on the ship, it alerts me. I get messages from everyone from the major to Jo on here; it’s a way to stay connected, I guess.”

  “That’s…invasive.”

  “I suppose. But it’s also very useful in times like this. Gives me the freedom to wander if I want, and still be available should I be needed.”

  “Huh.” Mason watched as the glass lit up at her touch, and she scrolled through several different screens. “Your technology is mind boggling. How did you continue to make advances after you launched?”

  “I’m not sure I know the answer to that. It’s my way of life. But we do have some brilliant minds on board, in addition to a lot of people who are willing to get their hands dirty and get to work. And they did when they left too. Cream of the crop, or so they say. And a lot of those people didn’t get rich on their looks. They were smart. Knew how to survive in that time, when greed and narcissism prevailed.”

  Mason wasn’t sure what she meant by that. He didn’t know much about the time before, except what he’d read in Ashby’s journal, so he changed the subject. “Assuming this goes amazingly well, and you can land this ship, what will you do?” Mason asked.

  It was Vega’s turn to look out at the expanse of nothing. Her silence stretched on until Mason wondered if she would answer him. “I haven’t really thought about it. If we land and can live on the mainland, we won’t have a need for pilots, will we?”

  The panic in her dark eyes made Mason gulp. “Well, I don’t know about that. The ships will be pretty spread out when they land. Seems like there are ships overseas even. If we ever wanted to have face-to-face contact with each other, we’d have to fly.”

  “Yeah. But the demand won’t be like it is today. I might have to find something else to do.”

  Mason could see her mind racing with possibilities. “Anything you might like to do?”

  Vega looked lost in thought as she watched a cloud drift just above them. “I’m not sure. I do love the animals. Maybe I’d be a farmer or something. Work the new land.”

  “Do you really think we’ll be able to grow anything in that grey ash?” Mason asked.

  “I don’t see why not. Supposedly, in the time before, the volcanic grounds were some of the most fertile lands on Earth.”

  “Volcanic grounds?” Mason asked, wondering what the connection between volcanoes and the bot-ridden Earth below was.

  “Yeah. The ash, I guess. Although it was probably the lava that made it nutrient rich, so I don’t know. Logically, the land has been lying dormant for hundreds of years. It should be ready to support life in a big way when we get down there.”

  “Assuming the bots haven’t robbed it of all that’s good and holy.”

  “I see your glass is half empty.”

  He chuckled, struck by her yet again. “In fact it is,” he said as he stood to refill his cup for the second time. He carried hers over to the machine as he thought about her. Repeatedly over the last few weeks, he’d felt out of place, like he didn’t belong. He wasn’t an elder, nor an explorer. He was a welder. But sitting in that room with Vega, he felt comfortable. He couldn’t put his finger on why exactly. Maybe because she never said exactly what he expected, and he liked that about her. She never judged him when she had every right to. Their way of life was so foreign to her, why wouldn’t she think them odd? But instead, she seemed to respect them for their sheer tenacity.

  “What will you do when we land the ships?” Vega asked, breaking the silence.

  “Go back to work, I suppose. I’m still an elder among my people. There will be a lot to do to get them all settled and integrated with your people.”

  Vega nodded. “There will be a lot to do.”

  Mason glanced down at the islanders again, wondering what they’d be up to that morning, when he noticed something. He stood up so fast he nearly spilled his third cup of coffee.

  Vega was startled by the movement and stood as well, glancing at her watch or whatever she called it.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “Look at the islanders,” Mason said, hoping he was wrong. It was an optical illusion. His mind and lack of sleep were playing tricks on him. Something.

  “What about them?” she asked, clearly not seeing what he saw. Was that a comfort?

  “How big did the circle look to you when we walked in here?”

  “I…” She took another step toward the tremendous floor-to-ceiling window. “It seemed bigger than that. But I don’t know for sure. I didn’t measure it. It might just be a trick of the light with the sun rising.”

  “How long have we been sitting here?” Mason demanded, searching the room for a clock, but there were so many windows that there wasn’t anywhere to hang one. Finally, his eyes landed on a digital one built into the window in the center of the room. Nearly ten in the morning. They’d been sitting there several hours without word on the hack.

  Vega’s eyes followed his, and she didn’t answer his question, apparently seeing no need.

  They held their breath as they watched the circle. Mason was sure it was the size of a softball when they sat down. Now it looked more like a baseball. Were the bots closing in on them?

  “The EMP was working, right?” Vega asked.

  “It was when we left,” Mason said. “But we’ve been gone almost twenty-four hours now. I learned rather quickly that the world can fall apart in less than twenty-four minutes, let alone hours. A lot can happen in that amount of time.”

  “True. We learned that last night as we listened to ten thousand people lose their lives.”

  The notion struck him. She wasn’t so different from him after all. She’d known suffering. She was struggling to stay alive, and to keep her friends alive,
just like he was. Just because his was on a more basic level didn’t diminish her situation.

  He looked over at her, but she didn’t notice. She was squinting down at the stark circle created by the fog of bots.

  Abruptly, she turned, set her coffee down, and walked away.

  “Hey, where are you going?” Mason asked, putting his cup down, spilling a little in his haste.

  “I’ll be right back.”

  “Did you get a comm? What’s happening?”

  “Chill out. I’ll be right back.”

  He followed her, keeping his eyes on the islanders as he went. The room curved around, and she finally stopped at the end of it. A wall of shelves with books and cabinets ran all the way back to the glass door.

  She searched the cabinets until she found what she was looking for. Turning around, she brandished a marker, as if it was a scepter that would answer all their questions.

  “A marker? How on Ashby’s earth will that help?”

  “You’ll see.” She marched back to the coffee table where their cups waited for them.

  They’d lost their steam by the time they returned, but they’d freshened them at least twice since they’d been sitting there. They could certainly do it again.

  Vega looked down at the islanders and uncapped the marker. She raised her comm watch and pulled up a chart of some kind directly on the glass of the window. Looked like the land below maybe.

  Scrolling through some numbers, she wrote out ‘10,000 ft. @ 10:07 AM.’ Then she drew a circle on the glass.

  Mason crouched down to her eye level. The shape matched the exact size of the fog surrounding the islanders, flattening out along the shoreline.

  “Now we’ll know if it gets smaller.”

  “And what exactly will we do with that information?” Mason asked, trying, and failing, to keep his panic at bay. Mattli was down there.

  “At worst? Maybe let the major know and rush the rescue efforts. I don’t know. I’m sure we’ll think of something. We’ll have some time to sit here and come up with an idea. I’m hoping this little experiment will simply set our minds at ease. We’re both tired from lack of sleep. Our eyes are probably just playing tricks on us.” She led him over to the sitting area, but Mason sat on the table while she sat on the sofa.