Archangel Down: Archangel Project. Book One

by C. Gockel

  Noa’s brow furrowed. “You just ate … ”

  He shook his head in annoyance. “I was there, I remember.”

  “We’re here!” 6T9 shouted.

  The hover started wavering wildly, and Noa and James slid across the floor toward 6T9. “Just let me land this thing!” Eliza shouted.

  Noa put her head under her arms in a crash position. The craft lurched sideways, and James rapidly assumed the same pose. 6T9 crooned, “Darling, you drive like you’re in the Mars Rally 6000.”

  The Mars Rally 6000 was a demolition rally. James blinked beneath his arms. “Well, he isn’t wrong.”

  Noa huffed in what sounded like a laugh, but then the hover hit ground, bounced, and bounced again and all James could hear was Noa’s and his teeth rattling, 6T9’s head bouncing, and a frantic-sounding squeak from Carl Sagan. James thought the worst was over when Eliza cut the engines, but then the hover settled down before the risers could engage. Metal screeched against metal. James felt as though his eardrums and the auditory regions of his brain were burning with agitation.

  He barely had time to catch his breath or for his frantic nanos and neurons to cool before Noa said, “Let’s go,” and slipped over to open the side hatch. Mercifully warm air from outdoors flooded the hover.

  James considered just lying on the floor with his head down.

  “James, are you alright?” 6T9 said, scooting closer. “If you were injured during the landing, I give excellent back massages.” James hastily scrambled to his knees and crawled out of the side hatch after Noa, Carl Sagan hot on his heels. Noa was already at the door to the Manuels’ residence, hand on a brass knocker. The building was a two-story white stucco townhome with red tiles. It and its identical neighbors had covered balconies on both levels to shield the windows from the equatorial sun. Beneath the sheltered stoop, the light at the corner of the porch was already on; its blue-white glow made Noa’s pink wig appear almost lavender. James reached her just as she let the knocker fall. She stood facing straight ahead, back straight, eyes on the door’s peephole. James looked around, surveying the surroundings. The Manuels’ home was on a cul-de-sac, set off of a narrow street. All the townhomes on the cul-de-sac and street had narrow front lawns with palm-like trees near the street, and neat sidewalks paved with recycled glass of various colors. Each had a short driveway in the front; Eliza had managed to land her hover squarely at the center of the Manuels’.

  James tilted his head, listening—the sun was close to setting and the nocturnal pterys were starting to sing their songs. A rustling in the ferns close to the house made him turn sharply—just in time to see a white cat dart across the street. At Noa’s feet, Carl Sagan stood up on his back four legs and hissed at it. Other than himself and Noa, he saw no humans outside, but he did see a few children’s toys left on the lawns. There were none in front of the Manuels’ house, he noted. Noa had promised that the Manuels would help them. Their son had been born with a faulty heart that had had to be replaced regularly with artificial devices as the boy grew. Noa was certain the Luddeccean philosophy had managed to kill the boy.

  “Can you hear if anyone’s home, James?” Noa muttered. She scratched at the base of her pink wig, and then adjusted the dark glasses she wore.

  James turned his attention to the door and tried to focus. The ptery’s cries seemed to increase in volume, the cat that he knew was four meters away sounded as though it was just a few steps behind him, and the sound of Eliza being helped out of the hover by 6T9 was deafening. His head jerked to the side, and those extraneous sounds faded. Behind the door he heard the very faint sound of breathing.

  “Someone is home,” he said.

  Noa looked around. Turning back to the door, she took off her glasses, spit on her fingers, and rubbed a long stripe across her cheek.

  Behind the door, James heard a gasp. And then a soft voice. “It’s Lieutenant Commander—Commander Noa Sato. Go quickly!”

  He heard feet racing from the door inside the house. And then he heard the sound of marching boots. In the cul-de-sac he couldn’t see anyone, but he estimated they couldn’t be more than 400 meters away. There were no gaps between the houses; the ferns were too small.

  “Patrol on the way,” Noa said, evidently hearing it, too.

  The door swung inward just as the words were out of her mouth. A man stood there. He was of indeterminable ethnicity: brown skin, dark brown hair, light brown eyes and medium build, which was to say, normal. What wasn’t normal was the flare of his nostrils, and the sweat on his brow in the cool night air. Carl Sagan darted between his feet and into the house. The man didn’t appear to notice. He stared at Noa open-mouthed, and then his eyes swept to James, 6T9, and Eliza.

  “Lieutenant Manuel—” Noa began softly.

  The man waved them inside, whispering, “It’s almost curfew.”

  Noa and James immediately entered, and Eliza and 6T9 followed. Just before they crossed the threshold, 6T9 swept the old woman into his arms and cooed, “Milady.”

  “Hurry, darling!” said Eliza, for once not giggling at his flirtations. Thankfully, 6T9 didn’t argue—but the Lieutenant looked at him in alarm. A moment later, he shook his head and darted outside the house, slamming the door behind him. Outside, James heard the troopers turn into the cul-de-sac.

  Chapter Thirteen

  “Manuel?” said Noa as the door slammed behind her. She shivered, and not just because the Manuels seemed to have set the air conditioning too high. James grabbed her arm and pulled her back. From outside the house she heard the sound of breaking glass, and the slightest band of blue-white light peeking through the curtains disappeared. She heard loud footsteps over the sound of her heart, and almost immediately heard a Guardsman say, “You there, what are you doing? It’s past curfew!”

  Inside, a woman’s voice whispered, “Grandmother, are you injured?”

  “I’m fine,” Eliza whispered back.

  Beyond the door, Noa heard Manuel say, “My porch light was blinking … broke the damn thing trying to replace it.”

  The Guard’s voice went from accusing to solicitous. “Do you need help?”

  “Yeah, that would be great.”

  A second later, yellow light broke between the cracks in the curtain. The Guard said, “There you go. Just to follow procedure, may I see your identification?”

  “Of course,” said Manuel.

  “This way, all of you,” the woman whispered. Noa turned and saw a slender woman with long straight hair who must be Dr. Hisha Manuel. She was leading 6T9 to what looked like a small cluttered kitchen.

  As he entered the kitchen just behind Noa, James muttered dryly, “I hope that they don’t invite the Guard in for milk and cookies.” Noa gave him a sidelong smile, but he was looking away from her.

  “That would be crazy,” the woman whispered.

  “Crazy like a fox,” said Eliza.

  6T9 growled. “My silver fox.”

  Hisha dropped her hand from the ‘bot’s arm. “You’re not her grandson?” Hisha asked in a cautious voice.

  Gently setting Eliza down by a chair, 6T9 said cheerfully, “No, I am her personal cybernetic consort.”

  The hand that hadn’t been on 6T9’s arm fluttered to Hisha’s chest. She looked between Noa, James, 6T9, and Eliza, swallowing audibly. The woman sidled to the sink. “My husband will be back in just a moment, Commander.” Looking away from Noa, she washed her hands in the sink—concentrating on the hand that had touched 6T9 … which … sadly, Noa sort of understood. Touching a walking, talking, sex toy was a little disquieting, although she knew intellectually sex ‘bots were programmed to practice scrupulous hygiene. Her eyes flitted to the ‘bot. He didn’t seem to have noticed the slight. Despite herself, Noa still felt for him. Which was why ‘bots were so dangerous. Worrying about ‘bots distracted people from worrying about their fellow humans.

  The front door slammed, and Noa breathed out a sigh of relief when she heard only Manuel’s footsteps hurriedly com
ing down the hall. Standing straighter, Noa stepped forward. “I’m sorry about your loss,” she said, before anything else. Manuel raised his chin. When Tim had died, Noa had felt empty … afloat. Manuel looked angry, and something else; she couldn’t put her finger on it.

  The engineer hadn’t changed much in the past few years. His hair had gone gray at the temples. It was longer, too. She noted it flopped over the spot where his neural interface was. He was sporting about three days’ worth of stubble; but he was still in decent shape, as was his wife, who was a doctor. She could be useful. And they would be motivated to help her … if Noa had correctly surmised the reason for their son’s death.

  “You have a plan, Commander?” Manuel said.

  “I have a plan to summon the Fleet,” Noa replied.

  Smiling tightly, he said, “Commander, I hoped that you were coming to say they were on their way … that maybe by some miracle they were already on the edge of our system’s space.”

  “No,” said Noa. “We have to go get them.”

  Manuel’s eyes slipped to 6T9 and back to Noa. “Who is ‘we’?”

  Noa didn’t flinch. “So far, only the people you see in this room ––”

  “ ––and the ‘bot,” added Eliza hastily.

  6T9 looked at Eliza. “Why are we summoning the Fleet?”

  “6T9,” said Eliza. “Please shut down for now.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” the ‘bot said. He abruptly went silent; he’d been producing a barely audible hum, Noa realized. His eyes went dark.

  Manuel looked at Noa, his forehead written with lines of concern. And then he took Hisha’s hand. They looked at each other; and, before Noa could say another word, Manuel said, “We’re in.”

  “We’ll do anything,” Hisha said. There was desperation in her voice, not anger. To Noa it seemed too fast, too easy, and that didn’t feel right. But, if Manuel was going to turn them in, he would have done so already. Wouldn’t he? Noa’s eyes sought James’s, but he was looking at the ceiling. Her hands clenched at her sides. She wanted the Manuels’ help too much, but for the wrong reasons. Kenji was so close … the map of the city flashed in her visual cortex ... if she could only get a chance to see him ...

  James said, “There’s someone upstairs,” and Noa snapped from her reverie.

  “A cat!” said Hisha.

  Noa’s shoulders relaxed, but then James said, “You are lying.” He stepped quickly to Noa’s side, but kept his eyes on the Manuels. She felt a warmth rising in her chest that she hadn’t felt since she’d returned to her home planet—trust—the kind of trust that only happened between comrades-at-arms.

  Dipping her chin, Noa demanded, “What are you hiding?” An elaborate ruse to find out what her end game was?

  It was Manuel’s turn to hold up his hands. She saw his Adam’s apple bob. “My son.”

  Eliza gasped, and Noa rolled back on her feet. James tilted his head. “But the obituary … ”

  “False,” said Manuel.

  “But the body … ” Noa said.

  Hisha spoke. “It was an animatronic—a ‘bot someone had commissioned when their child died. I knew about it. They’re illegal now so I begged it off them and then faked a death certificate. Some of my patients had their augmented children taken away, or they just vanished. Oliver would have been next.”

  Manuel took a step toward Noa. “Do you understand now, why we’ll do anything?” A baby’s cry from upstairs mournfully punctuated the question. Noa’s heart sank.

  * * *

  James paced through the house, listening for sounds outside, and occasionally peeked through the blinds. Since their arrival, he hadn’t seen nor heard more than a cat. He also listened as Noa related her plans to Manuel. Afterward, he heard Manuel say, “Dan Chow … don’t trust him; but you’re right, he needs to leave. Since he built the system that controls the ground defenses, he’s probably the best bet to shut them down. Still, you have the Local Guard to deal with. You need weapons … ”

  “I was hoping you could help with that,” said Noa.

  “And,” continued Manuel, “you need more than an electrical transformer station explosion to keep the Luddeccean Guard at bay while you steal the Ark.” A transformer explosion was an idea James and Noa had floated as an idea to distract the Guard.

  James padded back to the kitchen and found Noa sitting at the table with the engineer and Eliza. Eliza had fallen asleep in her seat. She was leaning against 6T9. The ‘bot was standing beside her, hand on her slumped shoulder. 6T9 was in an energy-conserving “sleep mode.” Although he was upright, his eyes were dull and dry instead of shiny and wet. James hadn’t realized how much that contributed to a life-like appearance. 6T9 was also mercifully silent.

  Noa inhaled sharply. Leaning on her elbows, she said, “I know, but I don’t have a better idea.”

  “I do,” Manuel responded.

  Noa sat back in her seat. “What do you have in mind?”

  From the front room James heard the sound of Hisha’s footsteps on the stairs.

  “Protests,” said Manuel. “Some of us have been planning them even before Time Gate 8 was destroyed. I can organize a ‘spontaneous’ show of civil disobedience within days.” He waved a hand. “And we have access to weapons and explosives for those of us who will be aboard the Ark.”

  “We need more engineers for the Ark,” Noa said. “A ship that size will need a crew. I’ve got a list of Fleet personnel in my data banks, but I don’t know whom to trust.”

  Manuel nodded quickly. “I can find you a crew.”

  At that moment, Hisha walked into the room with a child clutched in her arms. He appeared to be sleeping, his head pressed to her shoulder.

  “He’s beautiful,” Noa said, although the child’s thick, fleshy face was distorted by its own weight, and one of his sagging arms was visibly cybernetic as well—plastic and steel that the Manuels hadn’t bothered to cover with synth-skin. His ‘beauty’ was subjective, James decided. He had a hazy memory of saying such things himself in the past. But he also remembered confiding in a friend that he didn’t want children because they were a “burden,” “expensive,” and “drooling pools of disease.”

  Manuel slid out a chair, and Hisha’s body sagged into it, giving credence to James’s observation about children being a burden. The woman twisted her body, and James could see a dark wet stain of drool on her shoulder, giving credence to that observation as well. Manuel cleared his throat. “And my wife, she doesn’t have combat experience, but she would be useful aboard the Ark … ”

  Noa was silent.

  “I’m not afraid,” Hisha said quickly, her eyes getting wide. “I …would do anything … For my child, I would even kill.”

  Noa looked back and forth between the couple. Her lips flattened.

  “You just … you have to let us bring him,” said Manuel. “You can’t make it to the Ark without our help. You don’t know which members of the veteran’s community have fallen for the Luddeccean philosophy, you don’t know whom you can trust. I do. And you know you can trust me—” He looked at his wife, rubbed his chin, and looked back to Noa. “You can trust us.”

  Noa’s chair screeched against the floor as she scooted backward. “No. Manuel, I can’t take the three of you ... ” Her eyes fell on the sleeping child and up to Hisha. Her lips thinned, and she turned back to the Lieutenant. “Manuel, I’ll take you, yes … ” She looked back at Hisha. “But Hisha, you and Oliver have to stay here; you don’t want to bring your child into this.”

  “I have to get him off the planet,” said Hisha, clutching the child tighter, the pitch of her voice noticeably higher. “His heart will have to be replaced in a few months! It won’t be big enough for him for very long—he’s growing so fast.”

  Voice tremulous, Manuel added, “I know, best case scenario you can get to the gate in the cloud in two Luddeccean months, but who knows how long it could take for the Fleet to plan a campaign after that? It will get caught up in bureaucracy
.”

  Noa’s voice was soft as she replied. “You know that, when we commandeer the Ark it’s going to be bloody. If something happens to your son during the firefight, you won’t be able to focus on anything else.” Rubbing her temple, she sighed audibly. “A child will disrupt everyone’s focus.”

  “I’ll sedate him,” Hisha said.

  “That isn’t what I mean,” said Noa.

  James’s brow rose, not sure what she did mean.

  “Hisha,” Noa implored, “Please stay here, for your child’s sake.”

  “We won’t have anything to remain here for, if Oliver dies,” Hisha said. “And he will die if he stays here. We know that … we will stick with the mission … even if … ” She swallowed.

  Noa put her hand down too heavily on the table. She released a long breath. “I don’t like it,” Noa ground out, leaning back in her chair.

  James looked between the couple and Noa, weighing their arguments. Stepping closer to Noa, he said, “We don’t have time to find another engineer … and finding a doctor was pure luck.”

  Noa looked up at him sharply.

  “Each time we contact someone, Noa, we put ourselves at risk for being turned in. We are better off accepting their help and the risk to their child.” He waved his hand at Oliver, still asleep on his mother’s shoulder.

  Noa crossed her arms. “The risk to bring the child on the ship—and then, once he’s aboard—”

  James shrugged. “If your objection is based on the risk to the child, there is no argument. He may die trying to escape; he will die if he stays here.”

  He heard Hisha gulp at his words, and Manuel shifted in his chair.

  “I’m not just worried about the risk to the child,” Noa snapped. “I’m worried that the child may endanger the entire crew.”

  James looked at the baby. His small cybernetic hand clenched in his sleep.

  “Please,” said Hisha. “We’ll work hard. We won’t let ourselves be distracted.”

  “Of course you’ll be distracted!” Noa said.