He was crying noiselessly, His whole body shaking. He withdrew to the wall. His wings stretched on the concrete like spiderwebs, He pulled his knees to his mouth and hiccuped as tears rolled like pebbles down his gray skin.
“What have you done?” Sax finally managed to say. “I didn’t fully realize what you told me—that I am the Cure. I couldn’t stop. I killed Julie!”
“You’re like a lamp that attracts moths. Nobody will be able to resist you. You’re an erotic magnet. You ravage all instincts in a mortal. Nobody will oppose you.”
“How could you do that to me?” he asked, bewildered.
“You weren’t supposed to wake so soon.” The words came strangled. He trembled.
“I killed Julie,” Sax repeated, horrified. “And I would kill all of them, wouldn’t I? I won’t save them, I’ll kill them!”
He knelt next to the angel and took his chin, raising his face, eyes on his eyes, pollen on cold silver. Mercury drops tangled on the Stranger’s cheeks, fell to burn his chest. “Tell me …”
“Take your hands off me! Don’t touch me!” The angel shoved him away and scrabbled away on his elbows.
“What did you do to me?” Sax demanded. “What’s running through my veins? Why did I kill Julie?”
Sax rose and breathed deeply. He felt the fury swelling his chest. He needed music, his armor, to protect him from the repercussions of his anger, the responsibility. He needed to strike without feeling guilty. Then he remembered his mother, all the unfulfilled promises, and a tear trickled down his cheek. Even before it fell away from his chin, vividly colored petals wrapped it and it floated through the air.
His friends. They were supposed to arrive any minute and he’d kill them unwillingly.
The angel grinned at that, and rose. “You see, there’s nothing else to be said. You should have asked me before the transformation. Now, willingly or not, you’ll follow your destiny.”
“Which is?”
“You’ll kill Time and all the monstrosities it has created!”
“Wow! What’s this?” Kiss blurted, appearing unexpectedly, Trompi beside him.
“Sax?” Trompi asked uncertainly.
“Don’t let him run away!” Sax shouted as the angel moved slowly backward.
Their instincts, trained for years to strike first, run next, and reason after, kicked in. In a few steps they caught the angel and slammed him to the floor. Flinging up the wing Kiss had grabbed, the angel slammed Kiss against the wall, then flung himself against a wall to loosen Trompi, who had jumped on His back and wrapped his arms around his neck. Trompi released him, sagging as he fought for breath.
Before he could get away again, Sax was in front of him. He punched him in the solar plexus, then shoved him brutally against the wall. Palms still on the angel’s chest, Sax saw the pain in his face and the panic in his eyes. Putting all of his weight behind the push, he leaned on his palms; the angel fell to his knees, screaming, his hands scrabbling for a hold on Sax’s arms, then falling away. Sax noticed that the metallic gray around his palms had lost its shine.
“How can I reverse the transformation?” he asked the angel.
“It’s irreversible.”
“How can I prevent the spread of the virus?”
“There’s no way. Anything you touch will die and it will spread …” The angel started to shake. Mercury drops streamed in rivers down His cheeks. His chest had lost its metallic sheen and was paling from gray to white.
“How can I close the passage to your world?” Sax demanded.
“You can’t close it from here.” The angel managed a tormented smile. “Even if I die, there’ll be others …”
“I’ll be here, waiting for them,” Sax growled.
“After summer comes fall, and then winter,” the angel gasped. “Isn’t it like that with time, monstrosity? All plants wither in the fall and die in the winter. If you’ve seen yourself, you realize what you are and that you’ll wither like any other plant.”
Sax pushed violently on the angel’s already white chest. The angel’s eyes drooped shut and he lay still and colorless in the Plague’s liquid, a white body with a pair of withered wings.
“Sax …” Trompi began.
“Don’t touch me. Keep away from me.”
“What’s happened? I don’t get it!” said Kiss.
“I’ll tell you outside,” Trompi said, then turned to ask, “Sax, can we help?”
“Go and tell Chris that …” He fell silent, not knowing what to say, then he nodded, “Trompi, I left my Deep-V on the Ping-Pong table. I have some romantic music on it. For my mother. Give it to Chris.” It seemed a long time before Trompi nodded approvingly.
“Don’t ever come back here. And if people start to die, that means I couldn’t hold them back. You must leave the city. Get as far away as possible … it will buy you some … time.”
He turned and walked away, deep into the basement complex, heading toward what remained of the Manulife building, where the passage stayed open and the white light whistled menacingly.
“After winter comes spring,” he said to the stream of light. “I’ll still be here in the spring.”
CIRCULAR ARGUMENT
DARIN KENNEDY
THE LIGHTS ONBOARD THE tram-shuttle flicker to life, sending Jonah’s heart racing. A breath later, the engines begin to cycle down.
As they did precisely eleven hours and fifty-six minutes before.
And precisely twelve hours before that.
“Four minutes.” Jonah giggles, a mix of exhaustion and mania in his voice. “All the time in the world.”
“Emergency Protocol Juliet-One-Seven in progress.” The computerized female voice, almost human, echoes through the enclosed space, a secret message whispered into a tin can on a string. “Four minutes to station. If you wish to initiate override, you may–”
“Initiate override.”
Simple.
Crisp.
No more shouting.
Shouting led to laryngitis that lasted four cycles. Two days of darkness punctuated by three four-minute instances of artificial light that’s grown dimmer with each repetition.
“All right, Jonah,” he mutters. “Just give the machine what it wants.”
“Override initiated,” comes the computerized voice. “Please wait.”
“Sure,” he grumbles. “Nothing but time.”
Upon his arrival at the station a month back, Jonah nicknamed the system-wide A.I. Zoe. She just sounded like a Zoe, all energy and light. He had no idea at the time how much he’d grow to hate the simulated perkiness of her every word.
But that was before.
Before the food ran out.
And the water.
Jonah fiddles with his wristwatch. An old school chronometer from the late twentieth century, the century-old timepiece with its scratched crystal and tarnished band has passed at least five generations of Davidson men. Jonah keeps the thing wound at all times. Not much else to do with a mere twelve minutes of light every twenty-four hours. With nothing to eat or drink for a day and a half, Jonah hasn’t felt the urge to even urinate in over two cycles.
“Stay calm,” Jonah whispers as he studies his watch’s second hand. “It’s going to happen this time.” He glances down at his sunken ribcage and presses on his belly as his stomach rumbles for the first time in a day. “It has to.”
Three minutes, thirty-two seconds.
“Three.”
A count with each movement of the second hand.
“Two.”
A silent promise not to screw it up this time.
“One.”
“Please provide override authorization code.” Zoe’s request, the inflection in her voice as chipper as ever, was designed to come across as helpful, but after six days and eleven failed attempts at escape, Jonah finds her tone, at best, mocking.
And at worst, maddening.
“Override Authorization: Delta-Oscar-Alpha-One.” Jonah keeps his voice even
and emotionless. “I repeat. Delta-Oscar-Alpha-One.”
Eighteen seconds. Three minutes, fourteen seconds remaining.
Another six seconds passes before Zoe comes back with a simple, “Override authorized.”
Three minutes, eight seconds.
“Suspend Emergency Protocol Juliet-One-Seven.” Jonah fights to keep his voice calm. “I repeat, suspend Emergency Protocol Juliet-One-Seven.”
Two minutes, fifty-eight seconds.
Zoe doesn’t answer for a good ten seconds this time.
“State reason for step down of Emergency Protocol.”
Two minutes, forty-five seconds.
Here we go.
“Emergency Protocol not warranted.”
“Noted.” Her response this time is immediate. “Verification needed. Identify.”
“Voiceprint ident—Jonah Davidson, Tech Specialist, Level 4.”
Jonah stares at his watch, waiting. Two minutes, forty seconds.
Thirty-nine.
Thirty-eight.
“Voiceprint ident for TS4 Jonah Davidson recognized.”
Five seconds. At least the voice recognition software worked this time.
“How may I assist you, Jonah?”
With no time to spare for grumbling, Jonah blurts out his previous command, keeping his voice as even and calm as he can. “Suspend Emergency Protocol Juliet-One-Seven.”
Two minutes, thirty-two seconds.
“Jonah.” Zoe’s robotic voice, somewhere between soothing and patronizing, echoes through the tram-shuttle. “Protocol Juliet-One-Seven is in place for your safety. Suspension of protocol not advised.”
Two minutes, twenty-six seconds.
“Listen. The protocol is not warranted. Do you hear me? It’s not warranted.”
Two minutes, twenty-two seconds.
“Jonah, radiation levels at main post are elevated. Main post, therefore, is not considered safe. Suspension of protocol is not advised.”
Jonah clears his throat. “The shuttle sensory array is damaged and giving you false information. Please recalibrate.”
Two minutes, ten seconds.
Nine.
Eight.
“Recalibrating.”
Jonah hunkers down, collects his thoughts, and tries to control his breathing. Over the last several cycles, recalibration has taken up to thirty seconds and as little as sixteen. He’s kept meticulous notes, albeit written in total darkness, on the various time parameters the system A.I. has taken for each of his requests. He hopes against hope this time falls on the shorter end of the spectrum.
“Recalibration complete.”
One minute, forty-nine seconds.
“Scan main post,” Jonah commands, wasting no time. “I repeat, scan main post.”
“Complying.”
Jonah’s heart leaps at the immediate response.
“It’s going to happen this time.”
Ten seconds pass. Then fifteen. Then twenty.
“Come on.” Jonah pounds a fist on the steel floor panel so hard his fingers tingle in answer. “Come on …”
“Scan complete. Radiation levels at main post within normal limits.”
“No shit,” Jonah mutters. “I’ve only told you that eleven times.”
One minute, seventeen seconds.
“Come on, Zoe. Pull the next one.”
One minute, fifteen seconds.
“Suspension of Protocol Juliet-One-Seven authorized.”
“Thank God.”
Another three seconds pass before Zoe asks, “Jonah, what are your orders?”
“Stop at main gate. Then open doors.”
One minute, eight seconds.
Seven.
Six.
“Scheduling stop at main post in one minute, four seconds.”
And now, the main event.
“Red flag advisory for onboard A.I.: In ten seconds, your advanced sensors are going to erroneously detect a–”
“Warning.” A claxon sounds in the shuttle-tram. “Warning.”
“No!” Jonah leaps from the floor and nearly careens into a wall, his leg numb from lying too long on the hard steel floor. “It’s too soon!”
“Radiation leak identified ahead. Shuttle charge at seventeen percent. Initiating Emergency Protocol Juliet-One-Seven to conserve power.”
“No, you stupid piece of shit.” Jonah punches the sliding glass door. “I just broke you out of that stupid protocol.”
“Commencing power down. Will bypass main gate and continue onto outbound track to minimize exposure during radiation clean up.”
“Like there’s anyone here to perform a clean up, you stupid machine.” Jonah paces the car. “It’s just me here, dammit.”
For another eighteen days when the next team is set to arrive.
“Powering down now.”
The train goes dark, even earlier than the previous time. The engines cycle up, ready to start another trip around the outer perimeter of the base. Less than a minute passes and the bright lights of the station’s fully operational main post illuminate the car for all of five seconds as it races through.
It’s the last light Jonah will see for twelve hours.
“Eleven hours, fifty-nine minutes, fifty-four seconds.” Too dehydrated to make tears, Jonah dry eyes squint closed as he chokes on the words. “Fifty-three, fifty-two, fifty-one …”
DRIFTING INTO THE BLACK
TIMOTHY G. HUGUENIN
THE CAPTAIN IS DEAD.
He was the reason we were all holding together, the reason we are still alive. He was the only one who’d kept a cool head when the Core Drive malfunctioned and everything hit the fan. Even Siegfried probably wouldn’t have made it if it weren’t for him. But now he’s gone.
About five days ago, he and Siegfried were trying to infiltrate the bridge and get the Nav back online, or at least get it running enough to get some sort of bearing, and also to check and see if there had been any pings received in response to the stress beacon. They were ambushed. The captain held them off while Siegfried made it back to the galley doors. The captain ordered him to shut the doors as soon as Siegfried was safe in the galley wing, so they wouldn’t be able to penetrate what little territory we had left staked out for us.
There are only a handful of us now, maybe twenty. From the beginning, the captain was smart enough to secure us the galley wing so we’d have food. We’d also tried to keep the bridge, and we’d had it for a few weeks, but they got through one day. Someone was careless and left the door open, and they attacked us and pushed us back until this is all that we have left.
Sometimes I wonder: we do have G-wing, but maybe that is more tragedy than hope. Perhaps, in some ways, the captain was one of the lucky ones. I ask myself all the time if I would rather die by their hand or starve to death when our food runs out. Either way, it would be better than becoming one of them. Or would it? Would I even know? Do they remember who they once were? They must not have lost all intelligence, as it’s apparent that they have at least some sort of aptitude for military strategy. Still, even that is limited, and it is mostly their sheer number that gives them their greatest advantage over us. I have heard that a few of them have weapons, but I doubt that they still work. Even if they have any guns, they would have been locked out of the armory. They’d have to be able to open up the armory doors to recharge the guns (or obtain new ones), and only the captain and Siegfried have bio-access to those doors. And the captain’s dead, now.
Weapons or not, they are ruthless. I know I’d have to think twice before killing ones who were once friends or acquaintances. They do not. Do they remember?
Would I remember?
Siegfried is ready to go to sleep. I’m going to join him.
Siegfried, Carmen, and I went on another op to the bridge. Carmen had done some recon and we had a pretty educated guess as to when they slept, avoiding their typical swarms. We did, in fact, encounter one on patrol, but Siegfried caught him coming around the corner and snap
ped his neck before he could alert others. It had been Tony, and I cried a little as we kept on our way, disturbed by the image of Siegfried coldly, efficiently, executing one who was once our chief engineer, our friend. We used to play holosquash together, Siegfried and Tony and I. We ate meals together.
We came close to the bridge, and we saw something laying in the flickering hallway. Siegfried came upon it first, and he told Carmen and me to look away, so, naturally, we inspected it further. It was a piece of flesh, a dismembered arm. At first, I suspected one of them had turned on their own. It wouldn’t have been surprising. They were unified, yes, but they were not loyal. Maybe the one we had just killed down the hall (I have to try so hard not to call it Tony) had turned on its buddy for a little midnight snack while on patrol. I guessed it hadn’t been hungry enough to finish the job. But the pool of blood around it had dried up, so then I figured it must have not have been so recent.
Carmen gasped and then threw up, and that’s when I noticed the familiar captain’s insignia on the shoulder just below where the appendage ended and the crusty blood began. My stomach turned, but I managed to keep it in, and Siegfried put an arm around me and whispered in my ear, and that helped.
So we got to the bridge, but we had no luck in getting Nav up. My heart leapt when I heard Siegfried utter a hopeful grunt while he was checking the distress beacon for return pings.
“Nevermind,” he said. “It was just some sort of radiation interference. A star we passed long ago.”
I let out a long breath I didn’t know I’d been holding.
“How are we doing?” he said, typing something at the main computer. “I want to run diagnostics on the Core Drive.”
“Fine, I think–” I started, but then Carmen signaled from her post. “No, looks like we might have some company soon.”
We knew better than to press our luck, what with the captain’s dismembered arm right outside the bridge entrance to remind us what happens to those whose luck falls short.
Dark Horizons Page 15
