Terradox Reborn

by Craig A. Falconer

  Marcel’s gestures and expression suggested that he mistakenly believed that Holly and Peter could no longer hear him, either, when in reality the Kompound’s speaker system had no bearing on their suits’ ability to pick up and relay external sounds.

  More understandably, Marcel also didn’t know that the new suits were equipped with the ability to project their wearers’ speech. He reacted with suitable surprise when Holly issued the verbal command to engage this feature then spoke directly to him:

  “I know, but we can hear you and we can project our speech.”

  Peter issued the same command. “It’s not too late to make the right decision,” he then yelled to Steve, knowing that his voice wouldn’t be relayed as audibly as it had been through the speakers and making a successful effort to make up for this with extra volume.

  “Shut up and stay back,” Steve snapped in reply. “I’m not buying any of your lies! If you were really Holly and Peter, you would show yourselves. Voice-disguisers are children’s toys!”

  “So what’s the plan here?” Holly asked, changing tack. “You have to be in the rover before the evacuation process kicks in, or you’re just as dead as we are. Staying in there isn’t going to save you.”

  Steve hesitated, confused into silence for the first time. “I… you… stop trying to fuck with my head! Get into the privacy room, all of you. Now!”

  “He’s forgotten about Kim,” Marcel said quietly, close enough to Holly and Peter for them to hear. “He sent her to get another suit and she must be hiding somewhere. If he leaves, even if he does lock us in, she could run in and halt the evacuation procedure.”

  Holly shook her head. “We can’t count on Kim,” she whispered, loud enough for her suit to project the words for Marcel’s benefit but not Steve’s. “If she’s hiding, there’s no way we can count on her to come out at the right time or even to know how much it would help if she did.”

  Despite not agreeing with Marcel’s particular reason for optimism, Holly knew that the chance of drawing Steve out of the all-important control centre couldn’t be missed — not with so little time left — and her own reason for optimism lay in the belief that dragging Chase would give an outwitted Steve far less time to inflict any telling blows with the makeshift pipe-like weapon than was currently the case with Chase lying flat on the floor.

  Stepping into the privacy room then rushing at Steve before he locked them inside was the last hope her group had, and the numbers were on their side.

  “Okay,” she said, fully projecting her voice, “we’ll all go in. Come on, everyone, you heard him: into the privacy room, now.”

  Although Peter and Marcel were on Holly’s wavelength, Sara was considerably more reluctant; so reluctant, in fact, that Peter had to marshal her quite forcefully into the claustrophobic privacy room. This was for her own good, well and truly, which made it easy for him to ignore her pleas and complaints.

  “Close the door,” Steve ordered.

  This time, Peter was reluctant.

  “We’ll rush him if he tries to lock us in,” Holly whispered. “If he gets something to barricade the door, that means he’s dropped Chase — and that means he has no leverage. His metal chair leg isn’t going to do anything to these suits, so we can take him down easily.”

  Peter had heard enough; Holly’s words made sense, so he pulled the door closed.

  “What’s going on in there?” Bo asked, desperate for an update after a full twenty seconds of radio silence. “Are they making any progress?”

  Eagerly and worriedly gathered around Bo’s chair, everyone in the Buffer then heard something that sounded like a click. Each of them hoped beyond hope that it wasn’t the sound of a door opening or closing.

  “Viola, are you there?” Bo yelled at even greater volume.

  But shout as he might, no reply came.

  And no reply would come, because the rover was empty.

  thirty-eight

  Marcel’s spoken hope of Sara returning to disable the evacuation procedure had planted a seed in Viola’s mind, and her knowledge that the Kompound’s speaker system was completely offline had sealed it. No announcement would alert Steve of her entry via the service bay, leaving her free to sneak into the control centre when he was on the way to his escape rover at the other end of the Kompound.

  Bo’s bubble was still in place, allowing Viola to comfortably reach the service bay’s doorway and enter a code that was imprinted in her mind forever — 2 8 2 8 0 2 — before passing through the bay’s airlocks in a matter of moments.

  She stayed utterly silent; unsure of everyone’s relative positioning inside, she didn’t want to say anything that risked eliciting some kind of reaction from Holly or Peter which Steve might see or hear.

  Viola surprised herself by feeling relatively composed despite how much was riding on her success with just a few minutes remaining until the ordinarily overridable evacuation procedure was set to open the Kompound’s outer airlock and instantly kill everyone inside. She entered the main corridor furtively and stuck to the wall.

  This composure died a quick death, however, when she fell upon the sight of Steve still approaching the privacy room. Due to Steve having moved significantly slower than she expected courtesy of his decision to drag Chase’s substantial weight, a problem exacerbated by Viola herself having moved slightly quicker than she realised, the timing was off by at least twenty seconds.

  Steve’s eyes remained utterly fixed on the privacy room’s door, providing at least a ray of hope that he might not see her, but at this point it remained unclear what he was going to use to barricade the door, assuming that this obvious move was indeed his intention.

  But with Holly and Peter having been waiting to pick their moment and now standing with their heads in their hands as they watched Viola through the room’s large one-way peephole, one thing was only too clear: not for the first time, a workable plan originating from the privacy room was in grave danger of being derailed by a well-intentioned but unfortunately-timed arrival.

  Viola tried to manage her breathing and inched bravely towards the control centre, slowly growing in confidence with every quiet step.

  It was working, until it didn’t.

  It was all going well, until it wasn’t.

  As Steve neared the door empty-handed, he belatedly turned around to scan the area for a suitable and reliable barricade. Inevitably, he saw her.

  Like a deer transfixed by the headlights of an unstoppable truck, Viola Ospanov froze in the dangerous no-man’s-land between Steve Shepherd and the control centre.

  Rage crossed Steve’s face; eyebrows down, nostrils flared, gaze piercing.

  Still holding Chase, he spun around and took several large steps towards the control centre, where he recklessly threw him back inside.

  Pointing his makeshift spear at Chase’s exposed neck, Steve this time drew blood with a light contact which promised something much more final. This time, he didn’t just mean business; this time, he was ready to do it.

  Steve held the spike under his shoulder for a brief moment as he tore off his helmet and recklessly threw it across the corridor.

  “One more step and he’s fucking done!” he yelled at Viola, keeping the jagged metal implement tight against Chase’s neck. His voice and expression made it abundantly clear that Viola truly was one wrong step away from having Chase’s blood on her hands and his life on her conscience.

  “Steve, it’s Viola!” Holly called, throwing open the privacy room’s door in a move that was less of a calculated risk than an act of utter desperation.

  “Lies!” Steve yelled back from the threshold of the control centre. “All lies!”

  “Viola, speak!” Holly implored her. “Tell your suit to ‘activate voice projection’ and speak to him!”

  “No,” Viola said, her shaky voice heard only by Holly and Peter. “Holly, Peter… get ready. I’m going to hold my breath and take off my helmet so he knows it’s really me — so he knows it’s
really us.”

  “No!” Peter screamed, heard by everyone.

  “Whatever it does, it’s going to interrupt his focus,” Viola said. “Whether he’s shocked or calmed, that’s the chance for you to pounce and take him out. He might drop the weapon he’s holding, he might move away from Chase… whatever he does, he opens himself up for you to take care of this. So on one, okay?”

  “No!” Peter boomed, even louder than before. “V, do not do this!” He moved to take off his own helmet to save Viola from herself, but Marcel grabbed at his arms and prevented him from doing so.

  “Get the fuck off of me!” Peter snarled, but Marcel held tight. He was no match for Peter’s size or strength, but his positioning was awkward enough to delay Peter for a few seconds.

  “Four,” Viola said, still heard only by Holly and Peter.

  Looking rattled by the sudden chaos, Steve clocked what was happening. He didn’t drop the spike, but his grasp loosened sufficiently to remove the pressure from Chase’s neck.

  Viola lifted her hands. “Three.”

  And at that, clear that Viola was serious and with only three seconds remaining, Holly ran out of the privacy room in Viola’s direction, filled her lungs with air and removed her helmet.

  Long before those three seconds were up, she was lying motionless on the ground. And despite Viola and Peter’s dearest hopes, she was not bluffing.

  When Holly’s face became visible, Steve dropped his spike and rushed to her side. He fell to the ground and frantically put her helmet back on her head.

  “Peter, go!” Viola yelled. “I’m fine… get in there and do it!”

  Peter did not have to be told twice; he dashed past Viola and straight towards the control centre.

  “Holly…” Steve said, shaking her body and suddenly distraught to learn that it really had been her all along. He still couldn’t hear anything Viola said and was too focused on Holly to know that Peter was well on the way to breaching the control centre and assuming full control of the Kompound. “Holly, please be okay. Please be okay!”

  But then, like a switch was flipped, Steve very suddenly let go of Holly’s unresponsive body and turned to Viola. Sorrow disappeared from his expression, rage taking its place once more.

  Standing between Viola and the control centre where her only possible protection in the form of Peter was currently and frantically trying to halt the evacuation procedure, Steve Shepherd inhaled deeply and glanced at his makeshift weapon. He shifted his weight and gazed menacingly at Viola. “Look what you made her do,” he growled. “Look what you did to her!”

  thirty-nine

  “Peter!” Viola called desperately.

  “Grab the sharp pipe thing he dropped,” Peter replied, still desperately trying to halt the evacuation procedure and finding the thickness of his suit’s fingers to be his greatest obstacle. “Hold on… it’s done!” he then yelled in sudden victory.

  Peter hadn’t wasted any precious time re-enabling the Kompound’s speaker system, so no announcements played to confirm his success. Needless to say, however, no such announcements were necessary to send the majority of the Kompound’s current inhabitants into rapturous delight.

  With one urgent task completed, he immediately turned to run out of the control centre and protect Viola from the looming and still irrational Steve.

  But as he neared the door, Peter tripped over; not by losing his footing or running into an inanimate object, but courtesy of Chase Jackson.

  Chase, seriously injured but now at least somewhat conscious, clamped onto Peter’s leg like a limpet and refused to let go.

  “V, you’re on your own!” Peter warned her. “Just grab that weapon before he does and take him out!”

  Steve watched in a momentarily dazed confusion while Chase and Peter wrestled on the floor. He didn’t know why Chase was hostile to Peter, but he would take such assistance wherever he could find it.

  Viola took advantage of this distraction by reaching the jagged pipe-like weapon first. Steve noticed it in her hand and took two tentative steps backwards. Unlike her, his helmet-free head was fully exposed — if the implement in Viola’s hand was an equaliser for his huge size advantage, the protective suit covering her whole body tipped the balance decidedly in her favour.

  Steve’s retreat didn’t last for long however, and — as though sensing the hesitation in Viola’s grip — he inched forward once again with menace and malice and madness in his eyes.

  Peter could see all of this, and was aching to get out to eliminate Steve’s threat altogether. In his current battle, Chase’s eyes were concerning in their own way; there was no visible malice or anything of that nature, but there were telltale signs of a bad concussion. Disoriented and with blurry vision, Chase seemed to either think that he was grabbing hold of Steve or that the man in the helmet was a second enemy.

  “Chase… I’m Peter Ospanov, you idiot! Let me go!”

  Chase’s eyes opened and closed distantly. He licked and bit his lower lip rapidly and incessantly, clearly having no idea what he was really doing. And despite shouting loudly and ensuring that his suit was projecting his voice, Peter couldn’t even be sure that Chase could hear him at all.

  “Why did you come here?” Steve boomed at Viola, catching Peter’s attention again. He was now only a few steps away from her, and had just formed his hand into a large fist. Although Viola had faith in her suit’s excellent protective abilities, the thick gloves of Steve’s own heavy suit gave her reason for concern that he might be able to generate a strong enough blunt impact to both knock her down and knock the equalising weapon from her hand.

  In the face of these thoughts, Viola fought to stabilise her shaking arm. All she could think about was Holly being faced with a similar confrontation with a former friend and colleague so many years earlier during her own ill-fated isolation test, when reasoning with the assailant proved futile and the only way out was unwavering and unflinching self-defence.

  With that and nothing else in her mind, Viola raised the weapon and swung, closing her eyes before it made contact.

  But she did make contact — brutally decisive contact — and the sound alone was sickening.

  “Yes!” Peter yelled, not in celebration but rather relief and encouragement. He continued fighting to free himself from Chase, who, unlike Marcel, very much was his physical equal.

  Peter tried to spread his knees to free them from the grasp of Chase’s tree-trunk-like legs which were clasped around them, but Chase was having none of it.

  However far away his mind might have been, Chase’s body was fully operational. It delivered a fruitless bare-knuckle punch towards Peter’s rock-hard helmet, then quickly tried for a second without flinching despite what Peter thought must have been a finger-breaking impact.

  As Chase went for that second punch, Peter saw his chance. Reluctantly and with no more force than necessary, he delivered a stiff blow to Chase’s gut, taking all the care in the world to avoid worsening his concussion. He didn’t want to think there would be any lasting brain damage, but Chase was in a bad way and the last thing he needed was another blow to the head.

  Free at last, Peter ran to comfort Viola while Nisha and Marcel ran in the opposite direction to help Chase.

  Viola, sobbing quietly in regret at what she’d had to do to Steve, rested her helmeted head on Peter’s shoulder for only a few seconds before standing up straight once again. “You need to get Holly into the rover and back to the Buffer,” she said. Both of their HUDs reported Holly’s basic vital signs, all of which appeared stable despite her disconcerting and continued unconsciousness. Neither knew exactly what her problem was, but they did know that the only place she could be helped was in the Buffer.

  “You, too,” he replied. “There’s no way I’m leaving you here.”

  Viola looked around the chaotic scene, but the adrenaline pumping through her veins provided a surprising clarity of thought. “I’ll drive Holly back,” she suggested. “You need
to stay here to keep Steve under control and monitor Chase.”

  Peter now glanced towards Chase and saw that Marcel and Nisha were already checking him. Nisha was crying over him in an unusual mixture of relief and concern while Marcel talked directly into his ear in an effort to both bring him around as quickly as possible and ensure that he was calm when he did regain his bearings.

  “Does anyone have a belt or something else I can use to restrain Steve while I carry Holly to the rover?” Peter called, loudly enough for all to hear.

  Marcel immediately jumped to his feet and grabbed an emergency kit from underneath the primary control console, quietly asking Nisha to keep talking to Chase in an effort to bring him around, as Marcel himself had been doing for the last few moments. He then carried the emergency kit to Peter, who met him halfway and quickly opened it to find a rope which was ideal for the task.

  “Marcel,” Peter said when he was finished. “You all know first-aid… could you clean up Steve and check he’s okay?”

  Again, Marcel did as he was asked; Peter had a similar air of natural authority to Chase, whose polite orders Marcel was used to following. And regardless of what Steve had done over the course of the last few hours, when Marcel looked at him he still saw a friend and certainly didn’t want him to die a preventable and unnecessary death.

  “We’ll get everyone back to the Buffer as soon as we can,” Peter said, picking Holly up. He felt the strain of the combined weight of her thick suit and muscular frame — carrying Nisha, Viola or even Marcel would have been much easier — but he powered through. “It won’t be long, and I’ll be back in a few minutes.”

  “Viola, are you sure you can drive?” Marcel asked.

  She replied affirmatively, but soon realised that Marcel couldn’t hear. Belatedly, she instructed her suit to project her voice and tried again: “I can do it. I have to do it. We have to get her back and Peter has to stay here.”