Darkness Rising

by C. Gockel

  Walker gave a grunt. He glanced up to see her curling her lower body up under the stretcher. She hooked her feet around the edge from below, and the additional weight on the stretcher made 6T9’s alarms scream louder. “What are you—?”

  With a growl, Walker grabbed the doctor beneath the arms and gently drew her up through the straps. The weight against 6T9’s abdomen lessened and his Q-comm sparked, realizing what Walker was doing. She was using her lower body as a hook to hold up the stretcher while she used her arms to stabilize the doctor.

  6T9 jerked up ten centimeters and Walker jerked up twenty. Growling, the doctor said, “Put us both down so we can even out.”

  Whoever was above let them down. 6T9 exhaled as soon as his feet connected with rock. A moment later, Walker uncurled her legs from beneath the stretcher. Through the reflection on her helmet, he saw her teeth flash in a manic grin. “Well, I got my ab workout for the day.” His eyes met hers across the length of the stretcher and through her visor, and 6T9 had the odd sensation that there was nothing between them, not glass or space. She gave him an infinitesimal nod that he returned, not certain what he was acknowledging, but knowing it was important. And then, looking up, he shouted, “Haul us up—at the same time!”

  Walker’s eyes barely left his the entire trip up the incline, even though they both bounced against the rock face, and he heard their suits rip on that side.

  Two minutes and forty-three seconds later, they were at the top of the ledge. Isaacs met them there, barely recognizable from John in his envirosuit with its faceplate down. Kneeling beside Lang, Isaacs dropped his faceplate to the doctor’s and his shoulders heaved, but then he stood. “It’s out there. You better patch yourselves up or you’ll be exposed.”

  Walker looked down at her ripped suit and 6T9’s and pulled a roll of silvery tape from one of her pockets. “I’ll tape us up.”

  Toward the opening of the cave, 6T9 heard Young say, “We have to relocate. Another pass and a bombardment like the last and we’ll be done.”

  He heard James agree but was focused on one of the Marines, Corporal Stratos, who had been originally lowering them to the ground. Stratos was leaning against the cave wall, jaw set hard, eyes focused on nothing, a rock the size of 6T9’s torso near him. He was cradling one arm and the set of his shoulder was wrong.

  Closing up a hole in 6T9’s suit with a piece of tape, Walker whispered, “We have to take care of ourselves so we can take care of them. I’m almost done.” She put another patch of tape on his shoulder and said, “Go.”

  6T9 heard James’s and Young’s voices joined by John and Isaacs but couldn’t make out the words, and his attention was focused on the shattered human.

  “It’s broken,” Stratos ground out.

  6T9 nodded. The end of the acromion, the top part of the shoulder blade, and the clavicle were shattered. Maybe more.

  “It’s my left shoulder,” the man said. “I can still shoot.”

  Walker came over and said, “We can make a sling to take the pressure off, but we need to know more about the contagion before you take your suit off.”

  A phaser shot and a shout of surprise echoed from the mouth of the cave. It was Volka. Before he’d thought about it, 6T9 had bounded to his feet and was taking off in a sprint. He dashed past John, Issacs, and Trina and reached the cave opening. James and Young were already there. Volka stood panting over a creature vaguely like a seagull in form, but its coloring was darker, almost blue, and its feathers looked almost like scales where Volka hadn’t melted them with phaser fire. It had webbed feet with four long, black curved nails. His Q-comm heated. Could it have shredded Volka’s suit?

  Volka looked up at Sixty, chest heaving. “It’s part of it, the thing. I feel it.”

  He stared at the shattered creature and at its blood spilled on the rocks at the cave mouth. The blood was red. Iron based. There was nothing that suggested it was anything other than a bird.

  “It attacked me,” Volka hissed.

  Sixty’s Q-comm sparked. It couldn’t have hoped to kill Volka. It was too small.

  “It’s dead now,” said Young. “We agreed that we have to move out of here. Another cave in will kill us.”

  “Where is Sundancer?” Sixty asked, Q-comm seizing on what he should have noticed first.

  Volka stared at him. From James’s pack, Carl’s voice came in a sigh. “She was injured, like she was above the planet with the abandoned station. We told her to get away. The bombardment was going to kill her and us. I’d hoped that she could let herself fall back into the atmosphere and burn away the contagion on re-entry…”

  “She needed to get to the sun,” said Volka.

  “She didn’t make it…” said Carl.

  Volka growled.

  “We have no way home without her,” said 6T9.

  “Sundancer is maybe—” Volka’s voice cracked. “Sixty, we can’t feel her anymore!”

  6T9’s Q-comm hummed. Sometimes he could tell when humans required an emotional response. Now was one of those times. But his Q-comm was hot, yet pulling down no data. His vast server aboard the gate was calculating something monumental, but it was lacking some vital input. In a flash he knew what it was. “How long ago did this happen?”

  “I don’t…” Volka stammered.

  “How long ago did this happen?” 6T9 asked again, keeping his words slow, trying to cut through the emotion to get to the essential information he needed.

  “About ten minutes, maybe a little more,” Volka replied.

  “Carl?” Sixty demanded.

  “About that,” said Carl.

  “Are we ready to move out?” James asked Young.

  “No,” Sixty said, eyes falling on the gull creature, remembering his “army” of sex ‘bots aboard the Copperhead harrying the pirates. “We can’t leave.”

  “What?” said James.

  “Get a handle on him or shut him down,” said Young.

  “I think we should hear what Android General 1 has to say.” The last came from Trina.

  6T9 didn’t know when she’d joined them. To James, he said, “If they wanted us dead, we would be dead by now. They could do it from the station just by programming an escape pod to drop on us while we were in the cave.”

  “Which is why we have to get out of here,” Young said.

  “No, we need to stay here. The gull wasn’t trying to kill Volka. It was trying to infect her,” 6T9 said. “They won’t try to kill us. They will infect us—” He blinked. “Or you. It will infect the humans here.” His Q-comm hummed, a theory developing in his mind. “If Carl is right that it controls infected humans—”

  Carl hissed. “I am right. It does, and it controls infected whatever-the-thing Volka killed is, too.”

  6T9 continued, “Then we know what they want. They told us right from the beginning. They need help fixing the gate. The infected obviously have their human minds to some extent; they are flying the shuttle—”

  “And are already fixing the time gate,” Trina said.

  6T9 turned to Trina.

  She was standing near John, fully suited, face shield down, and he couldn’t read her expression. Voice somber, she continued, “The chargers for the interior ring that allows the jump are 51 percent repaired. That is up from 50 percent six hours ago. More manpower would mean faster repairs. When the repairs are finished, I won’t be able to keep them from using my processors to calculate jumps to other gates.”

  “More people infected would mean more opportunity to infect others,” said John. He looked down at the gull. “That bird would have drawn attention in a crowded gate terminal. None of us would.” 6T9 thought he heard a rueful smile in the man’s voice.

  Young shook his head. “So why should we stay here?”

  6T9’s Q-comm was humming. “Because even though this position isn’t defensible from twenty-sixth-century weaponry, it is defensible from—”

  “Seagulls?” Young snorted.

  “Yes,” said 6T9. “I h
ave it on good authority they’re evil.” He meant it as a joke to lighten the mood, because his Q-comm was saying if what he thought was happening was correct, they were about to fight a battle they were going to lose.

  Young said, “You need a reboot.”

  “More than gulls,” said Isaacs.

  Everyone turned to the man. Through his helmet, 6T9 glimpsed a shocking white curl on his forehead.

  Isaacs continued, “Near the asteroid crash site, we noticed there were animals acting strangely. Carnivores biting prey animals and then letting them go. Prey animals letting themselves be eaten by carnivores.”

  “It’s spreading itself,” said Carl Sagan.

  “I think the general is right,” Trina said. “We should stay here. We have coverage from the air. You will survive the longest here.” She turned to John. “I want to stay with you as long as possible.”

  There was a moment of silence as Trina’s words sank in. They had 26th century weaponry. But they didn’t have endless power or endless food. If Sundancer didn’t come back, all the humans would become infected. 6T9’s eyes slid to Volka. It might be better than death. The humans still kept their memories, if not their free will. Static prickled along his back. Would an infected Volka charge aboard a pirate ship to rescue a ‘bot? He didn’t have enough data to know…and shouldn’t care. Her survival was the important thing.

  “I want to survive as long as possible,” one of the Marines said. “And take as many of the…whatever…the thing is with us.”

  Young looked to James.

  “I think 6T9 is right,” James replied.

  6T9 had the sensation that gravity had decreased. James hardly ever agreed with him. James never wanted his “horizons expanded” with a threesome. He didn’t believe that Behind the Green Door or Debbie Does Dallas were classics of twentieth century cinema. He thought “being a stick in the mud” could be “fulfilling” and that vanilla was “the most underrated flavor.”

  Young exhaled. For 4.3 seconds he said nothing. “We’re going to trust a sex ‘bot?”

  “He is Android General 1,” said Trina.

  “I have no idea what that means,” said Young.

  “Well—” said Trina.

  Young cut her off. “We’ll stay here.”

  6T9’s Q-comm buzzed with data from research expeditions to new systems. To Dr. Isaacs and John, he said, “What happened to the escape pod you landed in?”

  John replied, “We left it behind after a few days. We landed in a place too far from water to remain for long—”

  “Did it have camouflage netting?” 6T9 asked. Usually, research teams had it to hide their observation posts from local wildlife.

  “Yes, that’s how we managed to stay undiscovered,” Isaacs said.

  “It could be used to keep out small animals and gulls,” 6T9 said. “How far is it and can you give us directions?”

  “About three kilometers, and I can show you where it is,” Isaacs said.

  6T9 shook his head. “We have no idea when the attack will be. We’ll want to send cyborgs and androids for speed—”

  “I have bionic legs and can run three kilometers in 3.25 minutes,” Isaacs said.

  “You’re hired,” 6T9 said. To Young, he said, “Do you have a few others who can join us? Not Walker. She should be here to monitor Lang.”

  “I know who should go with you,” said Young. “Give me a few minutes.” Shaking his head, he went back into the cave, Isaacs tagging along behind, mumbling something about wanting to say goodbye to Isabella. Trina and John followed them.

  Gesturing to the pack on James’s back, 6T9 said, “James, I’ll need Carl. He’s more portable than Volka.”

  “Hey!” Carl protested. “I am not…lizzar dung. I guess I am portable. How demeaning.”

  6T9’s Q-comm was humming fast and data was pouring in too quickly to stop. “He can sense the—”

  “Darkness,” Volka supplied.

  “—for the retrieval team,” 6T9 continued. “Trina should stay here. She’s too young and inexperienced. I can’t have her being distracted by a pretty mushroom or a bug. I want you to stay here, James. Young trusts you, and you and I both have servers on Time Gate 1. If anything happens to me…”

  Volka visibly shivered, and 6T9’s data dump finally paused.

  Slipping off the pack, James said, “Gate 1 can share your final upload with me, and I’ll know what happened.”

  Contingencies poured into 6T9’s mind and right out his mouth. “While we’re gone, work on fortifying the cave with what’s available nearby. Don’t forget secondary entrances. Trees can be cut, rocks can be—”

  “We’ll get on it,” James assured him.

  6T9 exhaled. Of course, boring, dependable James would be on it. 6T9’s gaze slid to Volka. Her ears were squashed by her helmet and he couldn’t read her reactions in them. Her eyes were on his.

  “I promised you,” 6T9 said, “that I would be there for you when you died.” If something happened to him, he wouldn’t be able to fulfill his promise.

  Volka’s eyes widened.

  6T9 winced. “That came out wrong. I mean…”

  “You’ll come back, and I’ll be alive for it,” Volka said. “I refuse to believe otherwise. The prophets Jesus and Muhammad, peace be upon them, tell us never to lose hope.”

  Hope was illogical in this circumstance, and beliefs in prophets were always illogical. Volka would either die or become infected. Mind control was against 6T9’s programming—even Carl’s mind “nudging” gave him static—and he couldn’t let it happen without a fight. But perhaps it wouldn’t be so bad. Perhaps she’d remember him afterward? It would be better than death, wouldn’t it?

  Volka put a hand on his arm, and the firing of his sensory receptors briefly overwhelmed the flurry of activity from his Q-comm.

  “Better get going, General,” James said.

  “I’m not—” 6T9 began to protest, but James cut him off by shoving the Carl-containing-backpack at his chest. Two Marines, Hale and Ramirez, jogged out of the cave, Isaacs with them.

  “We’re ready for the retrieval mission,” Hale said. Smirking, he added, “Droid General 1.” Ramirez snorted, but he gave 6T9 a nod. Isaacs looked back toward the cave.

  6T9 swung the pack with Carl onto his back.

  Giving him a tired, crooked smile, Volka said, “If you don’t want to be called General, you might have to stop acting like one.”

  “This way,” Isaacs said, and 6T9 was too busy springing after the bionic researcher to respond.

  “You have axes,” Volka said. She’d wondered when 6T9 said to build up the fortifications with rocks and trees how they would do it, but all the Marines had them. They were chopping down smaller trees, avoiding the places where the ground was dark and wet from the earlier barrage.

  “Standard kit for planet-side wilderness extraction, ma’am,” said the Marine with orange eyes, bending over a fallen sapling that, with her helmet on, had no smell.

  “How can I help?” she asked. Idleness was making her think too much about Sundancer, how much being severed from the ship had made her feel empty and alone. It also made her think of what was to come, about the way the patches of wet ground made her hair rise and remember how the gull had felt wrong.

  The Marine regarded her a moment and then, with a clumsy gloved hand, slipped what looked like a knife without a blade from his belt and handed it to her. “You can clean off the leaves.” She stared at the handle, uncertain, and he chuckled. “Phase blade, see?” He pressed a button and a hot plasma blade about fifteen centimeters long shot from the handle.

  Volka took it. “Thank you. I’m sorry, I don’t remember your name.”

  “You can call me Ben,” he said, and then set off to the nearest sapling. Volka touched the plasma blade to a branch and it cut through it like butter—if cutting butter made it smolder. Volka tossed the smoldering pieces onto the dark wet patches. The sound of sizzling gave her a sense of deep satisfaction. S
he was sure she was hurting It, whatever It was. It spurred her on to strip the saplings quickly, and she was disappointed when they began hauling them to the outcropping around the cave entrance.

  They set the trees at an angle in holes that had already been dug by other Marines.

  “Are shovels standard, too?” Volka asked.

  “Yes, ma’am,” said Ben, drilling a sapling into the earth with a grunt. Volka bent down to pack dirt around the end but paused, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck rise. Turning to the horizon, she saw nothing, and with the helmet on, she smelled nothing, but a chill started in her gut and started radiating outward.

  “What is it?” Ben asked.

  “I feel it…it’s coming…it’s…it’s…big,” Volka whispered.

  “Keep packing,” Ben said, stomping clods of dirt around another sapling.

  He was right. Volka resumed furiously packing earth around the poles, but occasionally she couldn’t help looking over her shoulder. She saw sunshine, but as soon as she turned her back, she felt as though there was a shadow gathering behind her.

  Ben cursed. Volka’s head jerked up, and she found the Marine staring out at the horizon. “The ‘bot was right,” he said. “And so were you.”

  Around him, Marines stopped what they were doing and gazed out at the horizon.

  Young shouted, “Get the blankets and the sleeping bags lashed to the frame and take your positions.” Marines jogged out from the cave, unfurled medical blankets and sleeping bags, and used duct tape to attach them to the saplings. They worked with such efficiency, Volka knew she wouldn’t do anything more than get in the way, so she turned to the horizon. Squinting into the distance, she saw a storm cloud. “Maybe if it rains, it will keep the birds away.”

  “That isn’t a storm,” Ben said. “Those are birds.”

  Volka swung her rifle around, raised it, and peered through the scope. It had been hard to find the single bird in the sky, but the massive flock was impossible to miss. She scanned it with alarm. The flock was so thick the sun was completely blocked out. She’d never seen anything like it. “Get into the shelter,” Ben said, pulling her arm.