Archangel Down: Archangel Project. Book One

by C. Gockel

  She closed her eyes. Oh, Kenji. Her stomach dropped. He’d been so misled.

  Remembering where she was, she opened her eyes. Manuel and Gunny were looking at her with bright eyes. Gunny gave her a tiny nod.

  She took a steadying breath. “As a Commander in the Fleet, I am privy to a lot of classified information … things they never asked me about.” She looked down at the floor. Her voice, when she spoke, was softer than she meant it to be. “During the interrogation, they kept asking me about the Archangel Project. They swore I was a part of it.” She met their eyes again. “I’ve never heard of the Archangel Project.” Gritting her teeth, she said, “I thought maybe they’d just been trying to break me.”

  “But they didn’t,” said Gunny. His voice was thick. Noa met the older man’s gaze. She might outrank him, but she respected him, and she got the feeling deep in her gut that he respected her … more than that, he’d be loyal despite his own misgivings.

  Her eyes slid to Manuel. He was looking at the ground, nodding to himself. He’d be loyal because of his son. She didn’t look at James. She didn’t need to. He wouldn’t let her down, she knew that like she knew how to walk, to talk, and to breathe.

  “Well, glad that’s settled,” said Ghost, wiping his hands on his thighs. “Are we dismissed?”

  Noa’s eyes went to the little man. She needed him, even if he was a coward; he was brilliant and useful. “That was very clever, Ghost, ejecting the contents of the toilets.”

  Ghost shrugged, but she could see a hint of a smile on his face.

  “You’d make a hell of an engineer,” said Manuel, his voice oddly monotone. He was saying it by rote, Noa realized. Playing the role of the encouraging leader and offering praise on autopilot.

  Ghost’s smile dropped. “Too boring,” he said dismissively.

  Manuel scowled and Noa contained the urge to roll her eyes.

  And then it hit her, something that had been bothering her since they crawled into the Ark’s airlock. “And it’s a good thing you were able to stop the elevator,” she said.

  “What?” said Ghost.

  “When it got jammed … ” said Noa. Her jaw tightened. He’d claimed he hadn’t been able to stop for Hisha … but he’d stopped at the first deck with a door, instead of the one at the top, where the elevator would have stopped on its own.

  “Ah, well, got lucky,” said Ghost.

  Noa met his eyes. He might not be lying. He had his direct brain-to-mainframe connection, or whatever—he could have found the problem. She blinked. But that isn’t what he said, he said they “got lucky.” When did Ghost not claim responsibility for any sort of genius? She surveyed the slight smile on his face, the way he looked at her too directly. Her jaw got tight. If the Ark had a computer error, they needed Ghost. There weren’t any other options. Purposefully relaxing her frame, Noa said, “Of course.” Her voice must not have been as neutral as she had attempted, because a light went on in Manuel’s eyes. He looked up at Noa, and back to Ghost. She could see the question playing out there.

  Noa forced herself to smile at Ghost, and hoped it didn’t look too fake. “Dismissed,” said Noa.

  Manuel and Ghost headed toward the lift platform at the center of the floor. Manuel cast a dark glance at Ghost. Ghost lifted his nose.

  She bit her tongue. It was going to be a long trip. “Forget about aliens—humans are more dangerous at the moment,” she thought as the lift descended.

  “Noa?”

  She jumped and found James very close. “Did I say that aloud?”

  He raised an eyebrow, but didn’t answer with words. He didn’t need to––she could read him by now. It was oddly comforting to know, even if yes, she did say that aloud.

  * * *

  James sat at the edge of the bed in the room that was his quarters. It had just enough space for a double bed that could fold into a couch, and a chair that was next to a portion of wall that could lift up and become a desk. There was a tiny porthole that showed the blur of stars, a sink in the wall with a mirror. There was a small lavatory with a toilet. An ancient notice on the wall on some sort of plasticized paper reminded him that food was strictly forbidden outside of the galley, lest they had accidentally picked up rats.

  There was also a screen above the area that was a desk. James had been informed that it worked a lot like his father’s laptop, and the Ark had movies on file, mostly religious in orientation, all of them ancient. He should be curious about what entertainment the ancient ship had to offer, or, barring that, too tired to be curious. But he wasn’t. The hallucination––or the dream––that he had had while unconscious played over and over in his mind. It didn’t feel like a hallucination or a dream; it felt like a memory—a memory that was bright and clear, like anytime after he’d awakened in the snow.

  He swung himself back onto the bed. It had to be a dream. He wouldn’t have walked calmly and unafraid over dead bodies. He might be callous—but he wasn’t without fear. It had been a dream. He had not understood what the voices were saying before he fell into unconsciousness, or after he woke up. He’d latched onto the words ‘Archangel’ and ‘Heretic’ and imagined he understood, that must have been what happened. Curling on his side, he closed his eyes and tried to sleep, or to sink into the half-waking state that passed for sleep lately. Like every other time, his mind started to replay the events of the day with astounding clarity. His eyes bolted open. He did not dream.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Visions of Ashley waving her crutch danced before Noa’s eyes. She woke up with a start. Her bed smelled stale. She closed her eyes, and let her mind focus on the hum of the engines. For a moment she had a sensation of stepping into sleep as though it was a deep dark pool—but then in the darkness the face of the woman in the corpse wagon took form, and the form stretched forward, reached toward Noa with waxy arms, her mouth opened, and ...

  Noa awoke, shaking, curled in on herself, and clutching a pillow. She looked across the bed. It was too large for one person aboard a spaceship—but the Ark was a colony ship—during the first voyage, even the Captain had a wife.

  She took a deep breath, squeezed her hands into fists, and felt the absence of the last two fingers on her left hand. She felt tears prickle the corners of her eyes. She thought of Kenji, and Ashley, and the dead woman in the wagon and desperately wanted drugs to help her sleep. There was probably something in the sickbay … she shook her head. The crew would know. A crew this small, they were all going to know everything about everyone really soon. Having their commanding officer hooked on sleeping pills would not inspire confidence.

  She wished James were here. Chavez had actually asked if she’d be billeting with him. Her hand clenched on the covers. She missed him … she hadn’t slept without him since the camp. He’d become associated with safety in her mind. Rubbing her eyes, she sighed, thinking of some of the erotic dreams he’d inspired. Waking up to him after those had been awkward, but erotic dreams were better than nightmares.

  Maybe he wasn’t asleep. She reached out with her mind … and before she could reprimand herself, she touched the ethernet. She blinked. Not just the local ethernet––Ghost had promised to establish one. With her mind she saw little lights for each member of the crew and felt a wave of happiness. They were connected, if only to each other. She tried to access the ship’s functions—and found she still could not—baby steps, she reminded herself. Her mind flitted back to her crew, and to James. The light for his consciousness was white … he was awake. She reached out to it, and felt his reply in her mind. “I am here.”

  “I think I’d like a snack,” she replied across the shared channel. “Meet you in the galley.” James was always up for a snack. She flung on the clothes she’d laid out on the chair beside her bed, and was out the door less than two minutes later.

  She nearly bumped into 6T9. He was pacing the hallway, Oliver on his shoulder, a long power cable with an extension attached to his back. The other end was inserted into the wall.
‘Bots were so energy intensive. 6T9 gave her a smile. She nodded, though it was unnecessary, he was only a ‘bot and wouldn’t have cared. She turned to the lift, but before she’d even taken a step, James emerged from the sliding door. She blinked.

  Over the ethernet, he said, “I was on my way to see you when you called.”

  “Couldn’t sleep?” Noa said aloud, and stifled a yawn behind her hand.

  “No,” he said, approaching her slowly, almost cautiously. His eyes went to 6T9. There was a line between his brows.

  “Me either,” she said. “Kept thinking of everyone we left behind.” 6T9 wasn’t human. Speaking so plainly wouldn’t make him think less or more of her … or make him think at all.

  James’s gaze returned to her. He tilted his head, and lifted his hand toward her, but then dropped it. “We will reach the secret time gate. The Fleet will return to Luddeccea and end the genocide; we could not do that ourselves.”

  It was the wrong thing to say. Noa’s heart sunk. By the time she brought the Fleet, Ashley could very well be dead. Kenji … well, she had no idea. The Fleet would save others, possibly millions, but not the people she knew, and not the ones she’d seen die already.

  Pacing back toward them, 6T9 leaned close to Noa, putting Oliver’s drowsing drooling little noggin right next to her shoulder. The ‘bot whispered, “Whoever saves one life saves the world entire,” and gave a bright smile.

  Noa’s breath caught at the words, and at the smell of Oliver’s sweaty little head. He smelled like toddler and hope. The words were heavy, but lightened her heart. He was right, and she was letting herself sink into a vortex of despair she’d never known before—not even during the Asteroid Wars of System Six. For all of them, she needed to pull herself out. She put a hand to her mouth, her vision got blurry, and she almost cried from relief. She’d just been delivered grace by a sex ‘bot—who would have thought?

  “That is profound,” James murmured.

  Lifting his chin, 6T9 nodded. “I have a proverbs and idioms app. Just like a pig in a poke.”

  Noa’s lips parted. That made no sense.

  One of James’s eyebrows shot up. “Are the idioms set to cycle randomly?”

  “Yes, how did you know? Guess it takes one to know one!” said 6T9, walking away and gently shushing Oliver.

  Noa laughed, and rubbed her temples.

  “Not so profound, after all.” James sighed, looking after him.

  Noa shook her head. “The words are still profound, even if the messenger is a sex ‘bot.” She looked up at James. He was watching the ‘bot walk away. The crease was still between his brows. She wasn’t hungry, but she said, “Want to get that snack?” She didn’t want him to leave.

  “Actually, I needed to speak to you,” James said, his voice low and hushed. Leaning closer, he whispered, “Privately.”

  Her eyes slid closed as his warm breath tickled her ear. She felt herself flush, but then her brain caught up with his words and the reality of the situation. He had already been on his way to her quarters when she’d contacted him, and it wasn’t a romantic visit, despite the hour. His caution, the concern in his eyes, said otherwise. She shouldn’t be disappointed. She was too old for such sentimentality.

  “Right,” she said, “this way.”

  She commanded the door to open, and it didn’t. With a huff, she found the open button and gave it a shove. The door slid away, and James followed her into the tiny space.

  When he spoke, it was over the ethernet. “Can we have a truly private conversation, even here?”

  Noa looked above their heads. Could they be private over Ghost’s ethernet? She suspected not. Her eyes went around the room. 6T9 was just outside the door; he might not listen on purpose, but she had no idea what his auditory abilities were. He might hear, and if anyone asked him to repeat what he’d heard, he’d doubtlessly tell them. And even if he didn’t … She looked to the intercom on the wall. The whole place was linked by the ancient communications system. You were supposed to touch a button to transmit, but still … Without a word, James lifted a hand. For the first time, she noticed he was carrying a roll of hard link.

  Noa laughed. It was a brilliant idea. The direct connection would circumvent eavesdroppers of the electronic and physical variety—and even if someone burst into the room, they’d think they were just up to some kinky sex.

  James tilted his head, and one eyebrow shot up. Noa motioned with her hand for an end of the cable. Plugging it into her port, she said across the well-used line, “If 6T9 saw this in your hand … ” She rolled her eyes, and said across the link, “He’d think we’re hard linking in all sorts of ways.”

  As she said it, she felt a slight stir of disappointment in her chest. She didn’t let that slip through. She was lonely; and these past weeks … today … she hurt. It struck her that she desperately wanted contact, an embrace––her eyes fell to James’s slightly parted lips—or more. Why was she thinking this right now? She’d been alone with him before, even had more privacy. But they’d been on the run, not even as safe as they were here, and she’d been dying. Now she was like a spring that had been tightly coiled for weeks, and she was bursting free. But it still was not the time. She snapped her eyes back to his. He wasn’t saying anything; he was completely motionless. She wasn’t sure how a human could stand so still. It was obvious, though, that he hadn’t been amused by the joke.

  “I’m sorry,” she said, crossing her arms, suddenly uncomfortable. “That was off color, I—”

  “I am not offended,” James said. “The opposite.”

  Noa felt her breath catch. James dropped his gaze to the floor. Across the hard link he said, “But there is something I must tell you—it could be important for all of us. It’s something I remembered, from the time before I landed on Luddeccea … ” He took a long breath. His head ticked to the side a few times. “It … it ... came to me when I was unconscious.”

  The stutter, the head tic. Noa put her hand on his arm without thinking. His eyes slid to it and then slid up to her face. Blue eyes on hers, his lips did not move as he whispered across the link, “I think it will be easier if I showed you.”

  She nodded. And then the world went black.

  * * *

  James showed her everything: the walk through Gate 8, the darkness behind his eyes when he had listened to the transmission—and he translated the transmission for her, too. Noa’s avatar had stood quietly the whole time, arms crossed as they were in real life, as close to him as they were in real life.

  When it was all over, they stood in the mental space between their minds. Noa looked up at him and said nothing for a long while. “It could have been a hallucination,” Noa’s avatar said.

  “It wasn’t,” said James.

  “A dream.”

  “I don’t dream—I recycle memories, that’s all—and that’s what this was,” James’s avatar responded.

  In the mindscape and the real world, Noa narrowed her eyes up at him. “So, this … ” she waved a hand and turned the scene to the interior of Gate 8. “Is your way of telling me you might be an alien?”

  In the real world James’s head ticked. “I … I … ” His avatar ran a hand through his hair, and then chuckled mirthlessly. “I wish I could say that for certain.” He met the eyes of Noa’s avatar. In the darkness of the mindscape, they were nearly black. Her avatar still had the scar on her cheek, but her hand was whole. Her brow furrowed, and her mouth opened. Before she could speak, he said, “Noa, I know I’m wrapped up in the Archangel Project somehow … ”

  “And I am, too,” Noa said.

  He shook his head. “No, not like me. We both know the evidence points to me being the Archangel—”

  “And I’m probably the Heretic.”

  James’s avatar blinked.

  She held up her wrist, and then scrunched her eyes at the sweep of dark brown perfect skin. “In real life, it has the tattoo … ” James looked down at her avatar’s wrist, and remembered the t
attoo from the physical world in perfect detail. Running his hand down her avatar’s wrist, he left the tattoo behind. H0000616.

  “The ‘H’ stands for ‘Heretic.’” Her lips stretched into a thin, bitter smile. “They never told me why.” The smile crumpled. She hissed, and he felt frustration, anger, and despair seep across the link.

  “Noa … ” James stammered. “Something is wrong with me. The time before I woke up in the snow, it feels like a dream, less clear, hazy, as though I was a completely different person.” He closed his eyes. “Before I got to Gate 8 … I was a different person. I couldn’t have killed anyone.” He looked down to the ground. “I couldn’t have walked past a dead mother and child and not felt something, not tried to help.”

  “You don’t know you didn’t feel anything!” Noa snapped. “It was the dream, the memory, something was wrong with your recall.”

  “I can’t even smile, but I have all these abilities that I don’t even remember I have. Noa, something is wrong with me. I’m broken.”

  “We’re both broken!” Noa said, throwing up her left hand. On her avatar it was whole … and two platinum bands were on her ring finger. Noa’s eyes widened as though she’d just noticed them. Her avatar pulled her hand close and suddenly they were surrounded by wraiths. A woman on a crutch holding out her hand, a corpse’s face frozen open in a scream, a guard beating a woman bent over a sewing machine. Long lines of women trudging between barracks, and Kenji throwing up his arms before a wall of fire. Noa’s memories, James realized—or her fears.