“Don’t talk about him like he’s dead,” Tim shot back.
A silence fell.
Tania cleared her throat. “Go on, Karl.”
“I was going to say that, as much as we all want to help, we have other issues that have languished since Zane fell ill. The scavenger crews have spent so much time finding the medical equipment necessary—”
“That stuff will be useful in the future, too. For years,” Tim said.
“I know, believe me. I’m just saying, Tania, Tim … I’m trying to point out that time is no longer on our side.”
“What do you mean?” Tim asked.
Tania knew but let Karl explain.
“The Builders. When we arrived here we knew it would be roughly two years before they returned. Or whatever they’re plotting.”
“We don’t know for sure,” Tania said. “But you’re close enough. If they keep to the schedule they’ve used so far, we’re now down to just over eight months.” Was it June already? Tania shook her head in disbelief.
“That’s all I wanted to point out,” Karl said.
Tim’s brow furrowed. “But … so what? I mean, what are we supposed to do with that? If there’s one thing we’ve learned about the Builders it’s that we have no idea what the heck they’re doing.”
“I have a few ideas,” Tania said.
“Me, too,” Karl replied.
Tim looked back and forth between them. “Well?”
“You first,” Tania said to Karl.
He took a breath and looked at them both. “I’ve been wondering if we shouldn’t set up a satellite camp. Take a tower and move it out to a safe distance. Just in case.”
Tania pretended to consider the idea, but instantly she disliked it.
“What’s a safe distance?” Tim asked. “I mean, SUBS spread across the planet almost as fast as the news of it.”
“I don’t know,” he said with a shrug. “One hundred kilometers?”
“How would they acquire provisions?”
“Send one of the new scavenger crews with them. Plus, Skyler could fly supplies and personnel back and forth.”
Tania grimaced. “I don’t know.…”
“It’s just an idea,” Karl said. “Should anything happen to the camp, it might be good to have a place to run to.”
“We have that already,” Tim said. He glanced at each of them in turn. “Darwin.”
After so much time away, the thought of going back seemed absurd to Tania. “We’d be treated as criminals. Traitors. I don’t think that’s an option.”
“It’s an option,” Tim said. “I didn’t say it was a good one. It’s just there. A last resort.”
Karl leaned forward. “Look, if something were to happen here that would drive us to flee, it stands to reason the same thing would happen in Darwin. Heck, they might even need to flee here. Wouldn’t that be something.”
Tania started to reply, then stopped. A hundred thoughts raced through her mind. Possibilities, reactions, counterreactions. None of it appealed to her. It all seemed to go against the two things she wanted in the world: build a new haven for mankind, and discover what the Builders ultimately wanted.
“See,” Tim said. “This is why I don’t like guessing games regarding the aliens. We simply have no idea what their purpose is. Or if they even have a purpose.”
“I refuse to believe the bastards are doing all this for no reason at all,” Karl said.
“Well,” Tania said. She slumped back in her chair. “Tim is right. There’s still too many unknowns. We have a date this time—March seventh, if the calculations are correct—but that’s not enough to take an action that drastic. I’m sorry, Karl, I just don’t think dividing our strength is the best idea.”
He persisted. “At a minimum, then, we should identify a location. Stock it with minimal supplies.” He shut his eyes for a moment and rubbed his neck. Even the slight exposure to SUBS he’d experienced still left him with brutal headaches, and Tania felt a pang of guilt every time she saw him in pain. The disease was in him now, in stasis, getting no worse and no better.
“Okay,” Tania said. “Pick the spot and start a list of supplies. We’ll wait until, um, ‘Builders’ Day’ is a month or so out before we expend the energy moving supplies there.”
“What was your idea, Tania? In terms of preparation.”
She clasped her hands in her lap and gave each of them a look she hoped came across as earnest. “As you both recall, just before this Elevator arrived, we were experiencing failures in Darwin’s aura. Blips, outages, whatever you want to call it. SUBS got through the protection, and if not for Skyler’s actions we might all be dead right now.”
Both men gave her blank stares. “Skyler’s actions?” Karl asked. “I … what do you mean? What actions?”
“He doesn’t talk about it much,” she said. “Obviously, or you’d both know. Neil sent him to investigate the base of the Darwin Elevator, which contrary to popular belief is quite deep below Nightcliff. Something happened down there, something Skyler doesn’t even understand. But somehow, he fixed it, or … reset it.”
“How?” Tim asked.
“Like I said, he doesn’t know. Nor do I, but I suspect his immunity might have had something to do with it.”
Tim looked pale. Karl’s face tightened. “You’re worried the same thing might happen here.”
It wasn’t a question. “Yes.”
Both men were silent for a long time.
“Of course,” Tim said with a sober tone, “it’s different here. We have the towers. Multiple auras. I guess they could all fail, but that seems counter to their purpose.”
“We have no idea what their purpose is,” Karl said.
“It’s not different, though,” Tania said. “Darwin’s aura faltered because it was having trouble dealing with a new strain of SUBS. That’s the theory, anyway. Skyler was chased down there by one of these ‘newsubs,’ and my hunch is that he somehow gave the Elevator what it needed to adjust to the new strain.”
“This is a lot of guessing,” Tim said.
“No other explanation makes sense,” Tania replied. “Believe me, I’ve thought over and discarded a hundred others.”
“Okay,” Karl said slowly. “The towers might not help. What can we do?”
“My concern,” Tania said, “is that we don’t have the same access to the true base of the Elevator here in Belém. Skyler was only able to do what he did because researchers had dug down below Nightcliff, back in the early days. Neil guarded this secret well, as the looks on your faces prove.”
“So, what are you suggesting? We dig a shaft? How deep are we talking?”
Tania gave a slight shrug. “The true base of Darwin’s Elevator is almost a kilometer down.”
Tim whistled.
“Equipment isn’t the problem here,” said Karl. “It’s knowledge. You don’t just pick a spot on the ground and dig a hole that deep. We need a geologist, and a civil engineer. Or someone like that.”
“Hold on. I don’t think we need to go that deep,” Tania said. “The way Skyler described the cavity, it sounded as if the Builders had done most of the work when they sank this … generator … down there. Neil’s people just had to dig through some initial coverage and then build a stairwell down. We don’t need to go that far, though. A simple high-tension cable would do the trick. A way to lower someone down.”
“Hell,” Karl said. “If what you said is true and a new variant of the subhuman appears, we could just toss one in the pit.”
The words, the way he said them, made Tania’s stomach tighten. “Perhaps.”
“Maybe that’s what we’re supposed to do with those weird armored versions out at red circle.”
“It’s … possible,” Tania allowed. “I’m inclined to avoid dealing with those creatures unless absolutely necessary.” She could still see the dark form as it danced among the colonists, killing with wanton ease. The thought of somehow bringing one of them to the Elevato
r, and dropping it in a pit, seemed ludicrous. Yet she couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if they did.
“I think we all agree on that at least,” Karl said. “Fine, then. We’ll look at digging a tunnel below the camp, and see if we hit a shaft similar to the one in Nightcliff. I’ll talk to Skyler, try to get some more detail out of him.”
“Thank you, Karl.”
“And I’ll look into a secondary campsite, as well as a basic list of provisions. Things are starting to settle into a rhythm down here, so it shouldn’t take away from anything to start stockpiling supplies. To be honest, with the limited space we’re starting to run out of things to do.”
“Again, thank you. For everything.”
Karl offered a tight smile. “Give Zane a punch in the shoulder for me,” he said, and clicked off.
Gateway Station
27.MAY.2284
SEEN THROUGH THE lens of spiced rum, Earth looked a bit like Mars.
Russell swirled the liquid in his glass. A few drops spilled onto the plush cream-colored rug, leaving little splotches of red like stains of blood.
The alcohol sloshed back and forth, coloring the planet beyond in alternating waves of blue marble and bloody red mess. A laugh began to rumble deep in his gut. It built and built until he cackled like a little girl.
As quickly as it began, the laugh died. He stared at the planet below with a mixture of anger and longing. A longing to return to how things were, when he ran Nightcliff and was at the top of his game. The anger came from handing all that over to Grillo.
When that word crossed his mind, he wound up and flung the glass at the transparent wall. He gripped the couch in anticipation of a spectacular shatter of crystal slivers. Instead, the glass hit the invisible barrier with a dull thud. It fell to the floor and rolled, trailing rum behind it in a graceful curve along the carpet.
No matter what he did, or how much he drank, all he could think about was Grillo. Goddamned Grillo. His neat suits and pretty-boy hair. His fucking success. Most of all, his endless excuses for delays in delivering the soldiers Russell asked for. Considering how efficiently the man ran the rest of his operations, it sure felt like a convenient comedy of errors when it came to making good on that promise. And deep down, Russell knew he couldn’t do anything but shower the man with orders and insults.
Nine months since Grillo had promised soldiers. Nine fucking months.
He heard the doors open behind him, and soft footfalls on the carpet.
Please be a woman, he thought. Some spectacular, lonely, needy woman who just came to enjoy the view.
“There you are,” said Alex Warthen.
Russell Blackfield shuddered. He suddenly found himself wishing he hadn’t thrown the drink. “Can’t a guy get some alone time in this tin can?”
Alex came around and sat down on the couch to Russell’s right, as if he’d been invited to do so. “We’ve been turning the station inside out. You missed your climber at eleven hundred hours.”
“I needed a drink.”
The security chief glanced at the rum that still dripped down the thick glass wall. The liquid gave the abstract impression that Australia bled. “We could have supplied the climber.…”
“What’s the big fucking deal, Alex? So anxious to be rid of me? Do I need to log my every movement with you?”
Alex held up his hands. “Calm down. We were just worried. You and I both know the importance of keeping a strict climber schedule. When you didn’t turn up, well, people don’t just miss a climber departure.”
“Well, shit, Alex. I’m sorry if I put a wrench in the schedule. What did you think, someone jumped me in a hallway? That the ghost had returned?”
The man took a deliberate look at the glass lying on the floor by the window. “Honestly, we figured you’d passed out somewhere.”
Russell got up and strode to the wet bar tucked in the corner of the room. “I’m not that deep into my cups yet, Alex. A bit buzzed, maybe. Give me an hour and you’ll find me facedown in some obscure corner of this sodding place.” He poured another glass of rum. Russell didn’t particularly like rum, but everything else was empty, and anyway alcohol was alcohol when you got down to it. “I would have thought the old man would keep a selection in here worthy of his riches.”
“He did. But that was during a time when things like liquor were tacitly allowed through Nightcliff. Not the most important thing to send up. No one was going to suffocate if it didn’t make it through. But it made life in these enclosed spaces a bit easier to cope with, so we all used to turn a blind eye. Grillo, on the other hand …”
The rum burned pleasantly in Russell’s throat and warmed his stomach. He could guess easily enough where this conversation was going, and he didn’t think there was enough rum in all the world to suffer through it again. “Go on, say it.”
“Grillo didn’t get the memo. Or,” Alex said somberly, “more likely he did and tore it up. His doctrine doesn’t seem to leave room for drink. Or anything else, for that matter.”
Another gulp and Russell found enough fortitude to return to the couch. He plopped down with a sigh and put his feet up on the coffee table. He clasped his hands behind his head and stared at Alex for a long moment, trying to see through the man’s stoic façade. Not an easy thing to do when sober, and all but impossible now. Russell gave up, spread his hands, and said, “How long until we run out?”
“A month, my guess. Of course we’ll still have cider from the farms.”
Russell wrinkled his nose. “That shit is vile. Does the job though, I guess.”
“Unfortunately,” Alex said, “most of the farms with apple crops are still with Tania Sharma.”
“Jesus. If I’m not getting it in one end I’m getting it in the other.” He leaned forward and rubbed his temples, suddenly wishing he could think clearly. “So are you telling me it’s time to relieve Grillo of his duties?”
Alex shrugged. “Rein him in a bit, maybe. He’s cooperating on the whole, but you give him too long a leash, Russell. If he turns on us—”
“Goddamn, is this what I’ve become?”
The comment stopped Alex short. He looked at Russell with confusion.
“Did you and Neil Platz used to sit here and talk about me like this?”
“Well …”
“I’ve become Neil Platz, haven’t I? Deposed the fucker just so I could deal with the same shit.” He figured he shouldn’t say anything else, but the rum let his mouth keep going. “I figured this would be the best bloody job in the world. Top dog, all that shit. Instead it’s one long series of headaches.”
Alex let the rant fade before he spoke. “I really don’t understand you.”
“Huh?”
“I mean, deep down …” Alex paused. He shifted in his seat, leaned forward. “Deep down, what do you actually want? No, I’m serious. We pulled off our coup. We got rid of Neil, disbanded the council. We had everything, and then out of nowhere you gave half of it to a zealot slumlord.”
“Didn’t know he was a zealot at the time.”
Alex ignored him. “The other half you’ve shown almost no interest in managing, despite the fact that you continue to insist on being involved in every little decision. It’s like you climbed Everest and all you could think to say was, ‘Er, bit cold, isn’t it?’ ”
“Bad analogy. Implies there’s nowhere to go but down.”
Alex spread his hands wide. “Isn’t that the truth? You’re at the pinnacle of humanity, and you spend the time drunk or disagreeable. Both, more often than not. I mean, what did you hope would happen when we started this endeavor?”
Where’s this “we” shit coming from all of a sudden? You were laid up with a broken collarbone the entire time. Russell sighed and turned to the view of Earth again. A sudden melancholy fell over him like a blanket. He took a deep breath, then went to sip his rum, only to realize he’d left the glass on the wet bar. He clenched his fist instead. “What I wanted was to tie everything together,
you know? Darwin and orbit in one cohesive whole, instead of the constant pissing match and forced friendship. Both sides reliant on each other and yet reluctant to share, it seemed like a recipe for disaster.”
“And you had that,” Alex said, “but you broke it apart again when you gave Darwin to Grillo. I don’t understand.”
Russell shook his head. “No. It broke apart before that. We were close, but then Tania had to go and take all the brightest minds, not to mention our food supply, and bugger off to South America. So you see, we never were whole, Alex.”
“That’s going to twist in your gut until the bitter end, isn’t it? Tania.”
“Yeah. Problem?”
Alex sank back in his seat. He closed his eyes for a few seconds, either deep in thought or profoundly tired. Probably both. Russell waited. He looked at his hand again for the liquid confidence, saw it was still empty, and briefly entertained the idea of getting up to fetch it. Given Alex’s mood, he decided it could wait.
The man’s eyes blinked open again and he met Russell’s eyes. “You’re a hunter, Blackfield.”
“Eh?”
“A hunter. Not an administrator. The role you fought for will never make you happy because you need prey.”
“What the fuck are you on about? Are you my shrink now?”
Alex shrugged. “Just telling you what I see.”
“Fascinating, Doctor Warthen.”
“You had drive and ambition in Darwin because you had Neil Platz to plot against. Before that I’m guessing you spent your time scheming to take Arthur Braithwaite’s job in Nightcliff.”
“That guy was a spineless fop.”
“No argument there,” Alex said. “Point is, you need an enemy. It’s just who you are.”
The words somehow broke through Russell’s state of intoxication. He could almost taste the truth in them, and it tasted like salty chips. He swallowed with some effort, and for the first time in as long as he could remember, he wanted a glass of water.
Russell Blackfield hated a lot of things, but near the top of the list was being predictable. Being solved. For all his adult life the only prompt he needed to change course was when someone had known the course ahead of time. Knowledge of the future was a powerful thing, and while some people simply found comfort in knowing that what happened today would happen tomorrow, rinse and bloody repeat, others wielded that information like a weapon. They’d be one step ahead, always. Russell’s own mother had been the grand master of this. For most of his childhood he’d thought her to be some kind of psychic, a mystical witch of a woman. Try to take money from her purse only to find a mousetrap inside. A little note for him to read through the pulsing pain of fingers nearly broken. “Piss off, get a job and make your own way.” He’d sneak in through the back window after a night of drinking and vandalism to find the chair he’d carefully placed before leaving missing a leg, rigged to collapse. The fall to the floor hurt like hell, but worse was the fact that she’d fucking known.
The Exodus Towers: The Dire Earth Cycle: Two Page 37
