Ravagers [03.00] Deviate

by Alex Albrinck

  And Ravagers.

  She blinked. Symbolism? On the water level, perhaps? She ran her invisible sleeve across her invisible brow, wiping from her brow the cooling sweat triggered by so much intense activity and thinking.

  Cooling.

  A server couldn’t deal with dust… or excessive heat.

  Her eyes snapped forward. In the middle of the room rested a column that served no discernible purpose. It wasn’t a generator. It didn’t run to the ceiling, which meant it couldn’t provide transport for electricity generated here.

  She glanced more closely, finally noticing the items attached around the perimeter of that curious column.

  Water fountains.

  Water could keep the interior cool… or cooler, at least, than the surrounding environment.

  She glanced around, ensuring no worker decided this would be time for a water break, and floated to the column for a closer look.

  She circled. No door, no opening suggestive of an access panel.

  She thought once more. Water could run through pipes near the server and offer some level of cooling. But the heat couldn’t just disappear. Even if lessened, it had to dissipate and go somewhere.

  She paused. Heat always went somewhere in environments with gravity. It rose.

  She looked up. The top of the column had no apparent cap. Heat could rise from the interior and exit out the upper part of the open column. She started floating up, pulse racing, certain she’d figured it out. She reached the top of the column and peered down. Darkness.

  But a lot of heat wafting from the opening. And… yes, she was certain. A whirring sound, common to computer servers, emanating from the depths of that column as well.

  She dispatched nanos into the column, sliding them down several feet, and ordering them to reproduce the light show she’d used to enter this central core. The spheres descended slowly until they could move no further.

  Ports. Fans. Cables. The traditional elements comprising the back of a computer server. She withstood the urge to let out a victory cheer. She’d not finished her work here just yet.

  She’d little doubt of her ability to use her newfound friends—yes, Micah, they are my new best friends—to shatter the column around the machine and thus gain the physical access she required. That would draw attention, though, something she didn’t want. The goal was simple: reach the space station via the portal, locate the control server, plant the card Micah provided, and leave, returning to Eden. Ideally, she’d do all of that without drawing any attention. If she drew attention, she had to hold that off until after Micah’s chip had its chance to take control of the Ravagers. If not, her capture—or death—was pointless.

  Sheila set her jaw and unstrapped the chip from her arm, holding it firmly in her right hand. She then used the nanos to tip herself upside down and descended face first into the narrow column.

  She’d heard of claustrophobia. Perhaps she suffered from the condition, or perhaps her unease came from the blood rushing to her brain. It was an incredibly uncomfortable position. She slid down the column faster, pushing more illuminating nanos before her so she operated in conditions not dissimilar to bright sunlight.

  And then she was there. She checked the chip, found a slot that matched, and with no fanfare plugged it in.

  A faint light blinked on at the end of the chip, flashing first red, then green.

  Fifteen seconds later, the chip dissolved, all evidence of its existence forever erased. Sheila stared. After so much effort, so much heartache, so much exhaustion, it seemed so… dull.

  But there was nothing else to do; she couldn’t call Micah and ask him if that was the desired outcome.

  Time to get out of here.

  She floated up to the top of the column… and stopped.

  Her feet met resistance.

  Images from the nanos on her feet stoked her worst fears, and the klaxons sounding outside the column confirmed them.

  Someone had covered the top of the column, trapping her inside.

  Her mission had ceased being dull.

  —26—

  OSWALD SILVER

  AS HE WALKED, Oswald Silver flexed his hand, watching as the faint light glinted off the silvery digits. The exposure of the prosthetic, something he’d long kept hidden, seemed the epitome of a master plan gone horribly wrong. No, not horribly wrong. Much of it had in fact gone precisely according to plan. They’d built the Ravagers, deployed them, and activated them without interference. They’d soon see the completion of the first phase of the purge, eliminating the inferior majority of humans, unleashing the remainder to drive humanity onward to heights never before imagined. All reports and tests on their reclamation processes showed overwhelming success rates. He’d left the surface one last time with Roddy Light in tow, prepared to learn the secret of reviving mental powers long suppressed, save for the minimal access available here in this sanctuary of a space-based city.

  He slammed the metal hand into a wall.

  Deirdre fought for survival somewhere in that chaotic mess, left behind by a scorned lover who couldn’t fathom that his fit of jealous pique might doom his wife to a brutal death.

  Delaney, his most trusted aide, hadn’t provided an update for hours. The man’s ship provided no details on its current location, lost to sensors meant to track its position and progress. He knew what it meant; Delaney had found Deirdre, killed Light, and probably found himself an uninhabited island somewhere to complete the marriage long denied him. It was a shame they’d lost Light; his accessibility to powers long lost on the surface could prove vital to his success in claiming control of the future utopia. He’d rely solely on his wits now, confident in his abilities, but recognized that learning Light’s lost secret would have prevented any challenges to his unquestioned authority.

  His daughter either dead or widowed, his best power play lost forever… and now he’d gotten word of a breach at his cleverly hidden Ravager control server.

  Few knew the server existed; fewer still knew its importance in their ongoing plans. Only one person knew the location of the server. He’d planted the box in the column himself, running all the cabling without assistance, installing the sensors and trap with his own hands.

  Despite the secrecy, someone had found that box.

  The appearance and eventual disappearance of the Will Stark impersonator was a message, a warning. He had enemies, powerful enemies. The efforts to eliminate those difficult elements prior to the launch of the Purge, long thought complete, had obviously failed. Someone remained behind. Two people, in fact. One was dead.

  He’d deal with the second now, and destroy that threat for good.

  Silver burst into the central section of the core, scowling. The klaxons remained active; he’d never liked the sound, not that one was meant to like that particular noise. He found three men working on the klaxons, no doubt trying to turn the sound off.

  “You!” Silver’s voice was sharp; his tone made clear his general aggravation with… well, everything. The men jumped, startled; their faces registered shock at seeing Silver. Few living on the station ventured here, least of all the group’s most senior leaders. They had a similar expectation of seeing him here today as he’d had of seeing Will Stark again. “Find a tall ladder and bring it to the water fountains.”

  “Sir?” One of the men blinked stupidly; apparently the shock at seeing Oswald Silver here rendered him a fool.

  “Take a ladder there.” Silver pointed at the column. “I need to climb on top. Make sure the ladder you fetch reaches that height.” He waved the back of his hand at the man. “Go. Now.” As the man stepped away, Oswald grabbed his shirt, and the terrified man looked at him, trembling. How had this loser made through their screening? “Oh. Bring a flashlight as well.” He released the shirt. “Go ahead.”

  The man nodded, still looking confused and terrified. He rushed off.

  Silver glanced at the others. “Get the damned klaxons turned off.”

  “Of cours
e, sir.” Good. Smart enough to avoid mentioning efforts on that front having already started.

  Oswald moved to the column and climbed up the ladder when the worker arrived and propped it up for him. He checked to confirm the lid and seal remained in place. He nodded. The cover and column blocked all manner of wireless signals; any outlaw inside would find himself unable to send messages to the server… or messages requesting assistance from colleagues.

  He deactivated the alarm—and breathed a deep sigh of relief as the klaxons went silent—before opening the lid. He flipped on the flashlight. “Let’s see who our intruder might be, shall we?” He leaned over the opening and aimed the light down the column.

  Nothing. He frowned. Had his system malfunctioned? It would be consistent with the rest of his week. He started moving back to the ladder when he stopped and listened.

  Had he heard what he thought he’d heard? He concentrated and listened again, accepting what his ears detected.

  Faint breathing. Inside the column.

  He grabbed the lid and flipped it closed and sealed it. “I need a large net! Now! And two more ladders!”

  Three minutes later, he had his supplies. At his direction, the men set the ladders up, equally distanced around the column. They spread the net atop the column with each man holding down an edge. “Someone is in there, a traitor and a criminal. We must not let him escape. Am I clear?”

  Three heads bobbed up and down.

  Silver nodded. “Hold on tight.”

  He unsealed the lid and lifted it aside.

  A breeze touched his face as something erupted from the column. Oswald, still on his knees, fell backward, nearly sliding off the column to the hard flooring below.

  His men hadn’t let go.

  The intruding person or flying object didn’t slow down; instead, it rose well above the column, taking the net—and the men still attached—straight up in the air. He couldn’t see a human form, but the gasps were suggestive of a person too long denied proper air. He wondered if he’d erred by opening the lid; perhaps leaving it closed would have resulted in the intruder’s death by suffocation. But that loss of airflow meant his server would overheat, combust, and cease its control of the Ravagers.

  He had to risk the potential escape of his prisoner. That server was far too important. His men dangled fifteen feet, then twenty, then twenty-five feet above the ground. “Hold on!” Silver shouted, his voice offering no room for discussion. “Do not let him escape!”

  His extra senses worked well in this environment. Their thoughts, summarized, were quite simple: we have no other choice but to hold on. If we let go, we fall. If we fall, we die.

  The invisible man hovered for a moment before accelerating toward the wall on the far side of the chamber.

  Silver realized the intent too late. Before he could shout a warning, the invisible flying man stopped mere inches from the wall. His men, moving at the pace of a sportier ground car, slammed into solid side of the room.

  He heard cracking sounds. Skulls crushed, collarbones snapped, ribs splintered. Two lost their grip as unconsciousness claimed them. They fell to the ground, triggering a second batch of sickening sounds.

  The third retained his grip on the net, even as his own serious injuries or death occurred. Gravity wouldn’t be denied. The net rolled off the would-be prisoner as Silver’s last man fell to the ground.

  He’d lost them all.

  The prisoner, no longer restrained by the net, blasted past Silver on his way up the access tunnel to freedom.

  “Dammit!” He grabbed his mobile phone; they’d tweaked his phone to operate here using their new cell system. He shouted the instant he heard the phone answered. “Lock all the access doors leading from the core!”

  “That is highly irregular, sir, and—”

  “This isn’t a suggestion. No one may leave the core now, not until further notice directly from me. Am I clear?”

  “Sir, of course, but—”

  Silver hung up the phone and ran for the access tube nearest where the final collision occurred. Once inside the carpeted tunnel, he sprinted at his maximum speed for the doors that led out into the corridor.

  He reached the access tunnel entryway and slowed to a stop. The lockdown order was no longer necessary.

  Oswald Silver stared at the hole the prisoner had smashed through the access doors. He’d escaped.

  He stifled the rage; it served no purpose now. He grabbed his phone and placed a call. “It’s Silver. I need the following alert sent to all space station residents, priority urgent, forced delivery, and mandatory immediate read. The message is this: if you see anyone who looks unfamiliar, you must quietly alert Station Security. There is evidence that an unauthorized intruder has gained access to the station. By alerting Security we can capture this man and bring him to justice.”

  He terminated the call and initiated another. “Unlock the access doors to the core in section…” He paused. “No, unlock all of them. There’s no reason to maintain the lockdown now.” He hung up.

  Head down but refusing to admit the defeat he’d suffered, Oswald Silver turned and moved back to the core. He walked to the column, climbed the nearest ladder, and looked down. He reached inside the column, found the four pressure points embedded inside, and pushed. He heard the conveyor system activate. Moments later, the server rose out of the column. He couldn’t fathom climbing down inside the column; the conveyor ensured he’d never have to do so.

  He performed a visual inspection. No signs of damage or tampering. All cables remained firmly attached. He reached around to the front, felt for the switch that activated the input and output system, and flipped it on. He waited for the holographic monitor and keyboard, called to mind his password and the system check commands he’d issue.

  Nothing happened.

  He flipped the switch again. And again.

  Nothing happened. His holographic keyboard display never materialized. In fact… the server itself was quiet. Too quiet.

  The cold reality hit him hard. The intruder had destroyed the server, likely erasing the computer’s memory and storage. He’d never get the contents back.

  He let out a blood curdling scream. He’d lost yet another battle, and he didn’t yet even know the implications of that loss. If the server was destroyed, he’d need to rebuild and reestablish the connection with the Ravagers. That wasn’t a major problem; they’d just need to wait a bit longer to start the repopulation efforts.

  But what if they’d somehow grabbed control of the Ravagers?

  He swallowed. The implications were nothing short of revolutionary.

  He freed the server from its cabling and hurled it to the ground, watching as it shattered.

  It had been a bad day.

  And he hadn’t even told his ex-wife of his latest failures yet.

  —————

  ON THE ISLAND called Eden, a computer monitor glowed, strange symbols scrolling down the screen.

  An odd-looking machine moved. The machine sported a half dozen legs, a similar number of “arms,” and obvious video sensors mounted all over its body. The machine sloughed toward the server where three metallic cubes with rounded edges and blinking lights rested. The machine reached out one long claw, seizing the top cube from the storage rack. It pivoted and moved, passing a number of inanimate bodies before stopping before a tall, lean, dark-skinned man with a bald head. The machine rose up on four of its six legs and pushed the cube into the back of the head. A new light lit up, and the back of the head sealed closed.

  Moments later, the body moved.

  Aware of its reboot, the robot checked the current time against its most recent memories. The robot checked other memories, bringing into its consciousness routine all available data. The message in that data was clear. Many hours had passed since his last backup. There was no sign of the human called Sheila Clarke here on the island. His own most recent memories involved boarding the flying sphere and launching toward space.


  It meant that he, in the body form of Will Stark, had gone to the space station… and had died there.

  Had it been in vain? Or had she already figured out the hidden location of the server and mounted the chip that would tip the course of the battle?

  He turned toward the server stowed at the end of the aisle of robot body forms and marched that way. He tapped a key and watched as the screen flickered to life.

  Operation Trojan Horse Successful.

  The robot known as Micah Jamison smiled. They’d gained control of the most powerful weapon in the world. It would aid them as they took the fight to the Phoenix Group.

  He had a few old friends he’d need to call.

  And then the retaliation would begin.

  —————

  The story continues in Retaliate,

  Episode 4 of The Ravagers

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  A Note to the Reader

  Many of the older characters first came to life in a series called The Aliomenti Saga. If you’d like to get a better understanding of who “Will Stark” is and why Oswald Silver is so spooked during their encounter, you’ll get your answers there. You can start with the first three books in the Aliomenti Saga by clicking here.