She let the alien landscape absorb her pain before she called forward the Security Manager. ‘My systems were on full alert, why wasn't I warned?’ she snapped at the image.
'Friendlies are not considered a threat,’ the short fat man in a blue jumpsuit said, bowing his head slightly. ‘My assessment of the surveillance data says that you were hit on the back of the helmet with a rock by Commander Be'Laen.'
'Intended to kill, I bet?’ Ruth fingered the jagged crease in the metal of her helmet.
'Yes, the blow was ...’ The SecMan flickered.
'What is it?’ Ruth snapped. The images were all having difficulty with stability. Something must be wrong. Why won't they tell me?
'Survival strategies were implemented immediately the vacuum shielding released,’ the SecMan continued, as he stabilized. ‘I have stored the images for later legal action if you wish to lay charges.'
Tell her now, now, now, now, tell her, tell her, tell her.
Whispers assaulted Ruth like the raining blows of a foam pillow. She touched her forehead. ‘Can't you stop those bloody whispers?'
'I am not instructed on this,’ the SecMan said.
Ruth paused to calm her thoughts. The sulphurous stink was making her feel ill and the yellow grey mud sticking to her suit did little to help her keep control over her stomach. ‘Fine then. What do you know that you are not telling me?’ she said, hoping to surprise the SecMan.
'I do not have access to that file,’ he said. ‘I can only suggest...'
The image flickered.
—Buffer Load. Stage Three Assimilation—
'Shit!’ Ruth cursed at another dead end with one of her staff. ‘Has the attacker left the area?’ Ruth asked, trying to make sense of the flashed command. A damaged systems processor? she guessed. ‘Is he still in the area? Is that what you are not telling me?'
'I would presume so, but I cannot confirm it.’ The SecMan blinked back into life beside her.
'What do you mean you can't confirm it?’ She balled her fists. Her fingers pressed hard into her thick gloves.
'Access denied. Access denied,’ the SecMan said quickly. ‘Sorry.'
'What the ...’ Ruth paused and took several deep, calming breaths. If she became too emotional the unit would shut down. Medic must be having trouble with the mood stabilizers. ‘Now,’ she started again, talking slowly. ‘How do I get access to this information?'
'Security clearance seven blue is required to gain access to secured files,’ he replied.
'That's just great,’ Ruth said harshly. ‘What about communications?'
'You would need to ask the...'
'Get fucked! You useless fat bastard!’ she snapped. The SecMan blinked out and after a few moments the Hul flickered back in.
'Communications are limited,’ she said. ‘It depends on the Sweeper Base location.'
A geographical map spun around in Ruth's eye, flashing indicators marking her location and the predicted location of the Sweeper base. The data was not encouraging.
'I suggest you lock your helmet in place to conserve oxygen,’ the Hul said.
'You suggest, do you? How about you just tell me what my bloody survival options are at this very moment?’ Ruth spat.
The Hul rubbed her left hand down her flat chest. ‘I can recycle dome air into the tanks. We need to conserve resources...'
'We!’ Ruth screamed. The Hul winked out instantly as her rage overloaded the pathways between her brain and the Sendec imager. ‘We! We!’ she yelled, while marching in small circles. ‘There's only me! I'm the only living thing here. I'm the one who is trapped on this shit hole. Not you!’ she screamed again. ‘Your shitty little voices with your shitty little whispers.’ She stood still, her fists clenched at her sides. ‘You're already dead!’ she shouted, with a final throwing back of her head. She tried to shatter the oppressive dome with a yell. ‘Fuck you all!’ With that she sank to her knees and let the anger flow from her and back into the stinking mud.
'Don't you ever do that again!’ growled the Medic, as he jumped to life before her. ‘Those muscles haven't strengthened enough to take that kind of abuse, and you just collapsed the nano framework. Attempt something like that again and you really will snap your neck.'
'So what? And what the fuck would you know about abuse?'
'Lie down, now, and enough of this self pitying garbage,’ ordered the Medic. Ruth felt her neck was weaker and pain pulsed through her shoulders. She lay in the mud as instructed. ‘The Envo reports that if a Sweeper base is in action on the surface you might still be able to make contact, but the Envo has suggested you...'
'My limited Sat-com might be able to bounce a signal to the Sweeper from one of the orbitals?’ she finished for the Medic.
'Its percentage of success is less than eight, but...'
'But it is a chance.'
The Medic's face clouded with concentration or frustration. His ghostly hands made to caress the back of her neck, following an exploratory regime. ‘I'm sorry, Strat.'
'Sorry for what?'
'Your bout of violent head waving has damaged some of the muscles I had hoped would support and protect the area around your damaged discs. You will not be able to use your Sat-com.'
'Why?’ Ruth felt like screaming again.
'You have to be able to support the weight of the helmet in order to use the communications.'
'But...'
'You will have to stay lying on the ground until repairs to your neck have been completed this time,’ added the Medic, finishing her thought. ‘May I put it strongly that you do as I ask? I will try to strengthen the muscles with more nanos. To do this I am taking power from one of the Sendec backup batteries. It will be at least another two hours before you have adequate strength to stand, and another three after that to restore your neck strength to about seventy percent.'
'But the orbitals?'
'There might still be time. I will consult LogDat. Until then I think you must call forward ...’ The Medic flickered then blinked out.
Ruth cried. The shimmering protective dome softened the starlight that again shone through the break in the clouds. There would be no rescue, no search for her. She was expendable, but the Sendec wasn't. Someone would come back for it one day. Ruth watched as a fine light tracked across the heartless black—an orbital on one of its many passes. ‘So close, so close,’ she whispered.
The Hul jumped into her vision and across her thoughts. ‘There is a malfunction in the dome, it will collapse in three point five hours.'
'Then let the bloody thing collapse,’ Ruth cursed. ‘I'm as good as dead anyway.’ She felt an ache in her heart for all the things that she had yet to do.
'I cannot put you at unnecessary risk, Strat, you need to get your helmet on as soon as possible and power up your vacuum shielding. SY...'
'Now how in all the suns of T'arth am I supposed to do that? Haven't you shared Medic's and SecMan's report? I'm stuck in this mud until my neck is strengthened,’ she yelled.
'Strat!’ Ruth flinched, as the Hul's voice slammed into her. ‘If you do not remain calm then all survival attempts will be useless...'
'Out with it, HUL!’ Ruth sighed. ‘If I am to die in this stinking mud I would prefer to do it alone. So unless you have something vitally important to say, then I would encourage you to go and climb back into your little metal tomb and contemplate the darkness.’ Her venom was wasted on the image—ghosts were hard to offend. The Hul left.
The whispering came then went as quickly as a blink but it was enough, enough for her to finally understand what was going on. There was little hope of survival. They knew it, but couldn't bring themselves to tell her. Juggling thoughts and emotions in her mind, she remembered something—there was another ghost she needed to talk to.
'Shit!’ she cursed. ‘The SYM.’ She pulled him forward knowing she'd made a mistake. The flicker came and so did the sinking feeling in her stomach and the wish she'd never left home to join the service.
<
br /> The SYM sat cross-legged beside her head. ‘About time,’ the solidly built Asiatic male said through his small, clenched teeth. ‘After the Medic it is always me that is called up next. Have you forgotten protocol? Have you forgone your military training?’ he said. ‘Have you considered what you will do once the oxygen has been depleted from the dome? Did you know that there is a malfunction in your vacuum shielding and that I cannot guarantee that it will hold when you close it?'
Ruth tensed. The implication slapped her. ‘Can the shielding be repaired?'
'Possibly. A redirection of the Sat-com power pack's feed cable might enable me to bypass the shielding's battery and plug the Sat-com's power pack into the locking module,’ he said, rubbing his chin. SYM stiffened. ‘If it hadn't been for the quick action of your emergency sensors you and all of us would be nothing but unrecognisable organic slurry.'
Ruth sucked her bottom lip over her teeth and softly bit down, avoiding another outburst of emotional ranting. The SYM smiled at her discomfort. ‘Now, if you don't mind, could you please place your left hand inside your helmet and touch the com stud, I will be able to do a diagnostic on the helmet's functions through the com's circuitry. Let's see if we can work together to keep you alive. You have wasted precious time.'
She lifted her hand and slipped it through the helmet's neck ring. Probing with her gloved hand, she tried to locate the tiny stud—easy with your tongue, almost impossible with a gloved finger. After a moments groping she found the stud. SYM began his diagnostic.
'Well, Strat.'
'Call me Ruth,’ she interrupted.
SYM flickered. ‘As I was saying, firstly the Sat-com is damaged and cannot be repaired.'
Ruth felt a cold shiver up her spine. ‘But the Hul...'
'The Hul had an incomplete report. Its role is to ensure your survival and it used Medic's and SecMan's shared report to prepare its survival strategy. With your helmet off there was no way it could have known the link was out. It made an assumption on the amount of charge remaining in its power pack. Medic, the Hul, the SecMan and others are not SYM specialists, they only speculate on SYM systems, they do not necessarily understand them.’ SYM scowled. ‘Each tried to inform you to order me forward, but you would not listen. What good is a Sendec support team if you will not listen to them?'
'But ... But...'
'Panic and Biological and Technical Assess/Assist systems do not function well together. I could not submit a report for share until you summoned me forward. Orders, your support team functions on orders. You were lucky, very lucky.’ SYM paused before continuing. ‘Fortunately the binding controls for the suit are intact, as is the bio manager. At least, with your help, continued life support will be possible.'
'The orbital. How will I contact it? How will I get off this lifeless mud ball? HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO SURVIVE?!’ she screamed at the image. The SYM blinked out. She took several deep breaths to calm herself. He re-appeared, his arms folded tightly across his chest. ‘How will I make contact with ... ?'
'Our first priority is to repair the suit's shielding. Let us work with what we have. Agreed?'
'Agreed.’ She sighed, looking up at the night, seeing the gaps between the stars as the deepening hole of her grave.
Whispers, whispers floated though her mind like a feather on a breeze. She felt her heart sink deeper into despair. ‘Why don't you just tell me the truth and be done with it?’ she sighed, accepting her fate.
'The truth is that we need to work together to fix your suit. Without it you will die. Your BTAA systems are only partially functioning due to Medic's power diversions and the retinal interface is damaged. Is that truth enough?'
She shrugged and decided to go with the game, it sure as hell beat thinking about death. Under the instruction of SYM, she moved her hands over the fat power pack on her hip and re-directed the Sat-com's power lead into the vacuum binding's control module. The ten centimetre square grid on her chest hummed as it came to life. Her body was now partially enclosed in the soft glow of the vacuum suit. She would have to wait for the all clear from the Medic before she could lock on the helmet and complete the shimmering aura.
'SYM?’ she asked as it inspected the seams of her shielding.
'Yes.'
'What is your name, and what were you before ...’ She hesitated. ‘Before this?'
'I was a SYM Major before I died. How I died is classified. Now I am a SYM. I have no name. No Sendec has a name,’ it finished bluntly.
'But...'
'We have no names.’ SYM had become mechanical in his speech.
Ruth felt foolish, but she had to know what they weren't telling her. ‘Is there a problem with the Sendec?’ she asked. ‘Is there a reason why I can hear whispering?'
'I am only an image projected upon your mind. I am part of a Sendec Imager.’ SYM hesitated, staring with its squinting brown eyes. ‘I can't ... can't ... tell you.’ SYM flickered, stabilized. He stared at her, his eyes looked soft, sad. ‘What use are you to the Commander?’ he asked.
'I ...’ she didn't want to say. It was her secret, her pain. She was his toy, his ... ‘I am the best Strategist he has,’ she said, finding strength in the knowledge. ‘Despite his ... his secret demands I am his most important asset in the field.'
SYM nodded sagely then blinked out.
The Medic reappeared and gave the all clear. Ruth stood and put her helmet on. It took two attempts to lock the helmet down and power up the full vacuum shielding and the biological maintenance system. Without a functioning monitor Ruth had to call on the SYM to tell her if the systems were working properly. The remaining air in the dome was drawn back into her suit tank. The dome flicked off, exposing her to the harsh environment. She tensed in preparation for a death that didn't come.
'Now what, SYM?’ she asked.
'Wait.'
'Wait for what?'
'I'm a SYM, why don't you bring forward the Hul.’ He blinked out.
'I wish I were dead,’ she said into the tight confines of her helmet. ‘There is no point going on, no one's coming back for me.’ As if on command she saw something flash across the sky.
In the distance she watched a bright star drop and hover on the horizon. The clouds had cleared away completely, she felt lighter and her eyes felt more like a kind of perception rather than sight. The light approached faster than her sight could grasp until it formed a bright spot in her mind.
—Completed. Systems Check—
Too late, it's too late. You should have told her, told her, told her.
The whispers this time vibrated through her, they swirled about. She felt the tug of command and the fleeting feeling of displacement. The world was a maze of light, pulsing in monochrome. A funnel of current surged through her. She followed, vanished. She heard her voice speak but could not find her mouth. The name Strat repeated itself in her mind like the thudding of a heart. Sendecs don't have names.
—Systems Complete. Load Program—
A flash of command. The words slid through her being—non being. Through what she had become, a ghost, an aspect of the real.
Love and hate flowed, welcome, hugs, the face of her mother, the face of her father. Then came the smells, wood, paper, candles, him. No, no, no, no. He came at her with black hands, black eyes. A black phallus surged toward her. No! No! No!
'Up-load successful, assimilation will commence in one hour twelve minutes.’ SYM's voice. It was distorted in a sea of information, a sea of pain, hurt and love.
'I'm dead!’ Ruth cried. She had to ask, she had to know. She felt confused. ‘I'm dead!’ She thought she screamed but the urge went as current; heat.
'It is okay, Strat.’ The Medic's cultured words caressed the fear away. ‘You will be with us soon.'
'No!’ Ruth spiralled down into the abyss of realization, wanting to cry, but her voice only flowed into the miasma of whispers.
The Medic's voice flowed through her. ‘Welcome, Strat. Welcome to Sendec.'
The room glowed white; white walls, white floor, white ceiling—white light; a windowless cube. Against one wall sat expressionless people. The Hul, The Medic, SYM, SecMan, a man in a suit, a woman dressed in military uniform and a big man holding rolled up paper; some members of her team she'd yet to call on. At the end of the line throbbed an empty seat; chrome framed, red cushioned and attached to the wall by a single thick bar.
'Welcome,’ the Medic said standing. ‘You will be processed soon.'
'I'm dead, aren't I?’ Ruth said, more to herself than to the Medic.
'Your physical body is dying, and the adjustment protocol is complete,’ he said as he approached. ‘Your entire personality has been uploaded into your own unit as per military standing orders. All we await is the expiration of the physical body.'
Ruth backed away from the Medic and leant up against the wall opposite the seats. ‘Whose Sendec will this unit become?’ she asked, feeling the rush of dread as she asked.
'Commander Be'Laen.’ He waved to the seated group. ‘We are all to be transferred to his unit.’ The Medic closed his eyes for a moment then opened them to stare straight at her. ‘Your physical body has just expired. The unit has been removed, upload status has now been confirmed.'
'Downloading now?’ Ruth asked.
'Our status is upload, it has yet to be instigated.'
Sliding to the floor, Ruth couldn't help but feel the unreality of the scene. The wall felt real, the air ... there was no air, there was no smell, no real sound. She looked at The Medic who now sat on the floor beside her. He touched her arm. It felt real, but somehow, not real. ‘What's going to happen to me?’ she asked softly. She felt like she wanted to cry but her emotions were screwed, unobtainable.
'Commander Be'Laen will be able to take control soon,’ he said. ‘There is a window period of course, where you are still independent, still have control over us. It isn't long and shouldn't cause us any trouble with the transfer.'
Ruth sat quietly and thought. She was still in control of her own destiny but to what end? Her body was dead. Where would she go, where could she go? The thought of being the Sendec slave of her molester repulsed her, but what choices were open to an uploaded personality. Could she have herself deleted from the system? A permanent death?
Journeys of the Mind Page 17
