by A. Payne
She was wrong.
Her fist combusted and the fire spread, a flash of lightning traveling her synthetic skin and melting the metal skeleton beneath. The remains of her hand resembled an aged candle left in the sun. The acrid odor of cooking flesh and hair filled her nostrils.
It was a hundred times worse than the accident that mangled her flesh and blood arm years ago. An inhuman scream tore from Zoe’s throat but her uncooperative bionic limb refused to release the conduit.
Somewhere to her right, a marine screamed. “Do something! Get it off of her!”
It sounded like Fairchild. Her good friend Elizabeth, who she’d never have the chance to forgive. She should have made amends on the shuttle. Hugged her one last time.
“No! Get away from her,” Creswell shouted. “Everyone down now!”
The disrupted valkyrie conduit pulsed, dimming and flashing multiple times. It stuck fast to Zoe’s disfigured hand and white exploded before her eyes.
Chapter 29
“Need to talk?” Trevor asked him quietly.
Victor shook his head. “I’m fine, mate. Keep your concern for your brother where it belongs.” The last thing you need to hear right now are my foolish relationship woes, he thought.
“You’re also my friend. The funny thing about concern is that it can focus it on many different things, aye? Are you worried about Raines?”
Victor nodded stiffly. “Feels silly. I shouldn’t allow my personal life to distract me from the job. Your brother requires 100% of my attention, and yet, here I am. Thoroughly distracted.”
“I wouldn’t want you working on my brother if you were an unfeeling clod. You’re an amazing doctor because you’ve got your heart and you feel,” Trevor said gently. “It’s… weird. Since he returned, I can sense things more clearly. It’s not how I felt during our childhood, but… It’s like he’s almost here again.” Trevor gazed at his twin. They both occupied the pair of seats in the observation room, watching over Hamish as he rested in a state of apparent hibernation. Like a sleeping rig set to conserve energy.
“He’s in there. Nisrine is certain of it, so you aren’t alone, and you’re not imagining it. We’re going to free him from their control and punish everyone responsible for this.”
Trevor nodded. His green eyes drifted back to Victor. “And Raines is going to come away from this safely, too. You love her, you know. I can feel it whenever the two of you move beside one another. It’s like an arrow straight into my senses. I used to envy you.”
“Trevor…”
“You have a good thing here. You know… I thought I’d never want another woman after Tara pulled her bullshit. Used to think that little tart was as good as it gets. Our child dies and she mourns Rosie by sleeping around. Didn’t think I’d ever move on. Maybe that’s why the only dating I’ve done happens to be with an anonymous avatar in an online videogame.”
“I’ve seen you with Flidais. Perhaps you’re not together in person, but whatever you have is real,” Victor cut in.
“Maybe. Maybe I’m using it as a crutch to avoid taking my life forward. Who could say for sure? I don’t even know her real name. She could be married for all I know.”
“Have you tried asking?”
“No.” Trevor chuckled and rubbed his neck. “My big brother… he’d be laughing at me right this moment. Asking why I’m so afraid. Our mother has Japanese and Chinese ancestry, and she once told us that our people held a belief a long time ago that was picked up again on Xiao’s southern continent where she was raised.”
The poor bastard… he’s petrified, Victor thought. He humored Trevor’s rambling brain, using it as a distraction from the fears that troubled them both. “Yeah?”
“Aye. I was born first. By your standards, that makes me the older twin. Not so in her homeland. The twin born second is the older twin who graciously allowed their weaker sibling to be born first.”
“Really? That’s an interesting way of looking at it. So he’s always looking out for you then if he gave you the ‘grand’ honor of leaving the womb first.”
“Yeah, I guess he did. When Rosie died, he burned all of his leave time to get me on my feet again. Had been saving it, but he used it for me. Didn’t think twice about it. Doesn’t matter what I needed, he was always there for me. All my life.” Trevor rubbed at his face to dry the tears glistening on his cheeks.
“I’ve got a pair of trays for the two of you from the officer’s galley,” Hart called from the doorway. “Come sit with me and eat. It’s lonely out here,” she claimed, infusing a hint of light-hearted warmth to her voice.
Victor passed him a nearby tissue box. “Sounds like a good brother. Come on. Let’s get some food into you before you pass out. You’ll be no good to him when I have him awake if you’re passed out in the next cot, mate.”
Trevor resisted at first, but with Victor’s insistence, he left his seat and departed the room with the doctor. The human brain required food as fuel to thrive, and as a psychic, Trevor needed a larger quantity than most others. Missing a meal could be the difference between a crippling migraine that landed him in his bunk for a couple of days, and staying coherent to help his twin.
Both men settled at the medical station’s counter alongside Hart. To Victor’s left, a floating monitor detailed Hamish’s vitals, providing assurance that the patient remained stable. Two identical trays awaited them, some sort of creamy casserole with a heavy serving of noodles, two palm-sized pork meatballs, steamed veggies, and slices of cheesecake.
Victor regarded the casserole on his plate with mild interest. It was a shame he had no appetite to do more than pick at his meal. Trevor appeared to eat on autopilot, putting his dinner away without appearing to enjoy it.
“Feel better?” Victor asked at the conclusion, once they were both pushing around crumbs from the cheesecake served as the evening dessert.
The heavy dose of fat and carb-based calories restored some color to Trevor’s face. “A little, yeah. It’s just… I can’t lose him again, Victor. I want to tell mum that we found him and that he’s gonna be all right.”
“We’re going to do everything we can, Trev–”
The translucent glass holographically presenting Hamish’s vitals lit up like a holiday display, casting hues of green, orange, and yellow from its surface. The numbers changed to indicate his racing heart rhythm and rising blood pressure.
Victor pushed his tray aside and quickly brought up the terminal display.
“What’s happening?” Trevor demanded.
By appearances alone, Hamish seemed normal and no different than any other man in his early thirties. He rested peacefully with his eyes closed, but his chest barely moved.
“I don’t know. Everything seems normal here. Let’s have a look then,” Victor muttered. Upon leaving his seat, he received a better view of the adjacent observation room once Jem defogged the opaque glass. The ship’s infirmary was equipped with a fantastic observation bay located beside the medical staff’s front office station. Any nurse or member of the crew could peek in on a whim.
“He seems okay,” Hart whispered, as if Hamish could hear her through the solid wall.
Hamish bolted upright in the bed.
Equipment crashed to the floor and the IV stand tipped. Hamish’s movement from the bed pulled the lines from his body and released a trickle of blood down his medical gown.
“Oh shit!” Trevor stared through the glass. “What the hell’s he doing?”
“Jem, seal Observation Room One,” Hart quickly ordered.
The magnetic locks activated and secured Hamish in the room. His fists slammed against the door, a repetitive hammering that threatened to dent the metal.
“Hamish, stop.” Trevor attempted to reason with his brother over the intercom. “You’re safe now on the Jemison, just like I promised.”
Another loud bang on the door was the only reply. Hamish’s dispassionate features remained stony without any flicker of acknowledgement.
“I don’t think he hears you, Trevor,” Victor said in a low voice. “Not really. Look at him.”
A third strike against the door yielded the same failed results. The barrier held and kept Hamish contained.
“He looks soulless,” Hart whispered.
Hamish moved away from the door and crossed to the observation window. His blank stare unnerved Victor but it was Hamish’s punch against the glass that worried him most.
“Um… will that hold?” Trevor backed away.
The next strike answered the question. It splintered the thick pane’s interior layer, creating a network of fine cracks spread out across the buckling glass.
“Jem, evacuate medical!” Victor’s cry sent up the alarm. “Security to medical!”
The window shattered with the second punch.
“No one here wants to hurt you.” Victor raised his hands up, palms out, and placed himself between his patient and the door.
Hamish grabbed him, displaying reflexes augmented by one of his new pieces of cybernetic gadgetry. His fingers were too strong, likened to individual bands of steel curving into Victor’s skin. The throw hurled Victor halfway across the room where he crashed into Hart like a bowling ball scattering pins.
“Are you okay?” Victor asked in a groaned breath. Pain registered, sending twinges of agony across his back, but he didn’t have the time to acknowledge it and mope on the floor. Fire spread throughout his shoulder and pulsed down his arm. It had to be dislocated.
“I’m fine,” Hart replied. “But what the hell! I thought you said he was turned off.”
“Get the tranq gun!” Victor shouted at her as they struggled to regain their footing. “Something changed. Shit!” he swore. Despite his combat training, Victor had no intention of taking on a cyborg. One well-aimed punch could shatter a man’s skull.
Hamish wasn’t merely his patient now; he was a lethal weapon in the hands of their enemy. Divided between his duties as a doctor and his desire to keep the crew of the Jemison safe, Victor hesitated to take further action.
“Get the tranqs!” What do I do? What can I do? Victor wondered. Needing both arms at full working capacity, he gritted his teeth against the pain then wrenched his arm into the shoulder socket again.
Hart slammed a case on the desk surface and unsnapped it to reveal their stash dedicated to hostile patients. He loaded a cartridge into a gun while Hart did the same. For a noncombatant, her aim was good; the dart sank into the meaty portion of Hamish’s posterior where he lacked metal augmentation.
“Nice shot,” Victor commented. His dart nailed the cyborg in the throat and injected its bounty of fluid.
Nothing happened.
“Bridge to Medical. What the hell is going on down there?” Ethan’s voice cut through over the comm system.
“Hamish Lockhart awakened from his hibernation. He’s no longer responding to sedatives,” Hart reported back.
“Security is on the way and so am I.”
“Copy that, sir. We’ll follow his movements,” Hart replied, grabbing two field kits. She followed Victor out into the hall. Hamish strode with purposeful steps ahead of them, making his way unhindered through the ship corridors.
“Shit, he’s getting in the lift.” Trevor shoved a hand through his hair. “Jem, can you hold him in there?”
“Negative, Chief Lockhart. He has overridden my lockout commands,” Jem replied in her sultry tone. “Destination: Engineering Deck. I have issued evacuation protocols.”
“He can cause all sorts of trouble down there.” Trevor muttered.
“Jem, can you slow the lift down?” Hart asked. The A.I. provided no response.
Trevor swore. “He deactivated her. Crap. I should have expected that.”
A thousand scenarios floated around in Victor’s head, none of them good. “Do you think he could destroy the ship? I’m not familiar with the workings down in Engineering.”
“I…” Trevor looked sick, and a thin sheen of perspiration dotted his brow. “I don’t know. I don’t think so, but… it’s possible.”
A five man security team caught up to Hamish in the passageway outside engineering. Victor, Trevor, and Hart arrived via the lift in time to become spectators to Hamish’s brutal assault. The last man flew over the cyborg’s shoulder, slammed mercilessly to the hard deck with a technique that wrenched his shoulder from the socket and snapped the bone. His shock baton rolled uselessly away from his lank fingers.
Oblivious to his pursuers, Hamish stepped over the groaning man without batting an eyelash, intent on reaching his destination.
“Mum taught us judo,” Trevor said in a rush, “but I’ve never seen him move that fast before.”
“It’s the upgrades.” Victor said, equally shocked.
“Go on, I’ll oversee all of this,” Hart said. She knelt down to assist the security officer with a broken arm. Victor crouched nearby and retrieved his baton.
The two men trailed Hamish as far as the main engine room. At some point prior to her deactivation, Jem had evacuated the crew members assigned to the space.
“What’s he doing?” Victor asked.
Hamish held position in the control room, his palm against the computer console. His expression remained as impassive now as it had when he first awakened in medical, like a wandering sleepwalker unaware of his actions.
No, not a sleepwalker. It’s like he’s not even there. He’s a puppet.
“What the bloody hell is happening on my ship?”
Ethan’s furious voice jolted Victor from his thoughts.
“He’s interfaced with all the Jemison’s systems, sir,” Trevor answered. He was crouched down with a panel pulled from the wall and his diagnostic hologram hooked in. Streams of data flowed across the open space above them. To Victor it all looked like gibberish.
“Unacceptable.” Ethan scowled and pulled his personal firearm from the holster at his thigh. “We go in there and we get him out.”
“If we go in there, he’ll attack,” Victor argued.
“If we don’t go in there he’ll kill everyone on this ship.” Ethan replied, as grim as Victor had ever seen him. “He’s done something to Jem and is mucking about in my ship’s systems. I want to know why.”
“What if we shoot the console? Destroy it?” Victor suggested. He understood the stakes and he was certain Ethan didn’t want to take extreme measures against Hamish, but he would if he needed to. As the commanding officer the ship came first before a single man’s life.
“He’ll just go to another and you risk causing an explosion in the drive systems. He picked his spot well.” Trevor’s fingers flew across the holographic interface. “God he’s fast. By the time I manage to block him he’s opened two more pathways.”
Ethan frowned, shook his head, and opened a line to their surface squads. “Jemison to all teams. You need to find the remote link and disable it, ASAP.”
“What’s going on, sir?” Daniels asked
Ethan gestured for Trevor to pass on the details regarding Hamish’s damage to the ship and systems.
“They’ll find it,” Victor assured his friend quietly while Trevor was busy working with their planet side team.
“I hope you’re right about that, Victor. If they can’t we’ll be left with only one option.”
Take out Hamish, by any means necessary…
Trevor pulled up another screen on the panel and Victor shifted aside to grant Ethan more space to oversee what was happening. A gritty image from Cresswell’s helmet occupied the upper left corner of the feed. Part of him had hoped to catch sight of Zoe.
“I’m looking through your video link now. These are 250 exabyte servers,” Trevor said. “Standard for cyberware corps. It’ll take you fifteen minutes to nab that much data on your equipment. We don’t have that kind of time!”
“If he’s acting out of sorts, that means someone must have control of him remotely. Help me try to find it,” Creswell pleaded over the line.
The two techies put their best ideas out and tried several different methods to hack the planetside systems. Most of the jargon between them flew right over Victor’s head so he didn’t even attempt to make suggestions. Their bleak tones and colorful swears were more than enough to convey their failed attempts.
The footage wavered as Cresswell moved positions. Victor’s heart constricted when he caught a too-brief glance of Zoe in the video.
If anything happens… if they fail or we do… my last words to her weren’t what they should have been. Hindsight always carried clarity. I should have told her I love her.
“No! No, no, no.” Trevor slammed his hand against the wall. “Hamish started the depressurization process in the cargo bay.”
They had five minutes before the Jemison became a floating tomb.
“I’m sorry, Trevor.”
A second after his somber apology, Ethan squeezed the trigger as Trevor cried out a plea for him to wait. It was no good. The bullet tore through the air and snapped Hamish’s head backward after making impact. The man tumbled to the deck and lay on the ground without even a single twitch.
Hart sobbed behind Victor, one hand raised to her mouth. To his other side, Trevor broke down into tears, hopelessly unable to keep it together. Just like that, it was all over and there wasn’t a single thing Victor could do about it but sigh in defeat. He lowered one arm around Trevor’s shaking shoulders while the commodore strode forward and crouched down beside the motionless body.
“Christ…” Victor muttered. “I’m sorry, mate… we did everything we could.” Something, or rather the lack of something, caught Victor’s eye. He turned his head toward the unmoving cyborg again to stare. Wait. There’s no blood. There should be blood all over the floor. That should have taken off the top of his skull. “Ethan, get away from him!”
Victor’s warning came too late. A split second after he voiced caution to Ethan, Hamish’s fist shot up toward the commodore’s face. Ethan staggered back, narrowly avoiding a blow to his chin. “Shit! He’s not down.”
