James Wittenbach - Worlds Apart 01

by Meridian

  “Lock down the ship,” Redfire ordered. “Arm external defenses.” Driver made a hand-gesture in the direction of the Aves. When he did so, the hatches sealed shut, and battle-armor deployed across its hull.

  “Let’s go,” said Redfire.

  They moved away from the ship in a kind of alert combat run. Driver occasionally looking back. By the time they reached a wall, Prudence was so far away, he could cover it with his thumb held at arm’s length.

  There was no door at the exit, just the mouth of a tunnel that smelled, if anything, worse than the chamber they were leaving: a fetid reak of damp neglect. What was on the wall was not just mold, but the next step in evolution up from mold. Eddie Roebuck tried to shake the stench out of his head. “Whoa.” Driver reached into his Landing Pack and produced a tube of NegaStink. He squeezed a quantity out and smeared it on his upper lip. When he offered the tube to Redfire, it was waved off.

  Redfire drew a circle around his left eye with his fingers. A bio-electronic device, similar to the interfaces used by pilots for direct neural link to their ships, grow around his eye, from brow to cheekbone, like a cybernetic coral reef. It extended his vision, allowing him to see into the infrared, ultraviolet, and through solid walls. Redfire looked down the tunnel for life forms, and through the walls to get an idea of the building layout, listened for distant whispers and checked the composition of the atmosphere.

  The ground was wet and gave beneath their feet like rotted wood. The air was warm and humid.

  There was no light, but broken fixtures on the wall indicated where lighting had formerly been. The sensors guided Redfire, while Roebuck and Driver used their night vision.

  “This is where they took the others,” Redfire said. “Roebuck, where are they now?” Roebuck was carrying a handheld Spex . “ExTC Lear, Taurus, and Partridge are about 1,400 meters above us at 32 degrees.”

  “What about Halliburton?”

  “Halliburton is only 150 meters above us, 17 degrees, 3.57 klicks east-south-east.” Redfire nodded. “Let’s get him first.”

  “Wait a second,” Roebuck said.

  “What?” Driver demanded.

  “Halliburton’s life signs just zeroed out,” Eddie said. “Krishna guide him, his Elvis has left the buildingÀ.”

  Driver closed his eyes for a second.

  “Let me see that,” Redfire said, snatching the Spex from Roebuck’s hands. “They killed Halliburton.”

  “How?” Driver asked.

  Redfire continued. “I’m not getting much from his implant, but he was in serious pain, and his body temperature was extremely high. Hold on, he’s moving…”

  “I thought you said he was dead,” Driver asked, his voice suggesting the hope that Roebuck and Redfire had been mistaken.

  “He is. His body is being moved … toward the outside of the tower.” They silently watched as the Spex showed Halliburton’s remains being unceremoniously dumped outside the tower. He tumbled down the side, then lay still. After a few heavy moments, Driver asked,

  “Why did they kill him?”

  Redfire turned and marched forward. “We won’t find out standing here.” Meridian – The Upper Levels of the City

  Executive Tyro Commander Lear was brought back to consciousness at the point of a sharp prick to the upper arm. she opened her heavy lids, and shook away puddles of gray. The hazy form of a Merid moved away from her, and prodded Taurus and Partridge with some kind of rod. She and the others were aboard a conveyance not unlike Pegasus’s internal transport pods, only larger and not as comfortable. The three of them were arranged on bare metal benches that ran along the sides of the transport. There was a scent of ozone, and a crackling hum coming from beneath them. From its dirty windows, Lear could see vast stretches of the tower’s insides. There were people everywhere, but always in the distance. Dwarfed by the enormity of the structures they inhabited, they looked like swarms of tiny insects.

  Their captors stood in the centerline. Finding herself unrestrained, Lear pulled herself up by a rung stuck in the roof, and tried to stare down the lead Merid. “Where is Halliburton?” she demanded.

  “The other is being examined by the Physician Regulators.”

  “Why?”

  “To determine whether your presence represents a threat to us, and to enable the Regulators to develop suitable defenses.”

  “A physical examination? Why not quarantine all of us?”

  “One specimen is sufficient. Your presence is required by the Regulators.”

  “Right, your leaders.”

  “More than leaders,” the Lead Merid informed her dispassionately. “Our masters.”

  “Masters? How is that different?”

  “All inhabitants exist to serve the Regulators.”

  “How many inhabitants are there in this … city?” Lear asked their host.

  “The population of the Arco-tower is approximately 196,447,218 inhabitants,” she answered.

  “Approximately?”

  “Affirmative.”

  “And what do all of them do?” Lear continued.

  “Our population is divided into functional sectors. 25% are allocated to the production of food and energy. 25% are allocated to the production of materials. 25% are allocated to technical services. 25% are allocated to carrying out the directives of the Regulators.”

  “How do you determine which sector to assign someone to?”

  The Merid seemed annoyed by the question, as though offended by their ignorance. “We are bred to serve.”

  At least the display of annoyance demonstrated that the Meridians were capable of some emotion.

  “I’m afraid I can’t recall if you provided your name. My name is Goneril Lear. I come from the Republic Colony.”

  “We knew that.”

  “And how should I address you?” Lear persisted.

  There was a small chirping noise, and the creature responded, “I am your interface.”

  “Interface?”

  “I have been instructed in your language, so as to facilitate the exchange of information between you and us.”

  “For what purpose?”

  The interface cocked its head. “The Regulators require that certain information be exchanged. You will be informed of what information is required upon your arrival. It is also anticipated that you may request information.”

  “Do the Regulators wish to know why we have come here?”

  “Affirmative.”

  “We believed that there was a human colony on this planet.”

  “That is correct.”

  Lear measured her words carefully. “You do not appear to be human.” The Merid responded. “We have evolved.”

  Lear considered this carefully and once again examined the creature that stood before her. Biology was not her specialty, and she wondered if a thousand years were enough to produce the differences she had so far observed. “Was this evolution directed by the Regulators?” The interface was silent for a moment, then said, “Information will be exchanged in the Conference Chamber. In order to answer your questions in a manner appropriate, you must have an appreciation of the historical perspective.”

  “Are we almost there?” Lear asked.

  “Soon.”

  Meridian – The Lower Levels of the Arcology

  They had been marching for two hours, going on three, when Redfire halted abruptly and, with a snap of his arm, brought his pulse weapon to readiness.

  “What?” Driver hissed.

  “We are about to find out if stealing these ‘nasty togs’ was a good idea. Eight Merids are headed this way, nineteen meters and closing.”

  Driver surveyed the chamber. There were no branches or adjoining rooms where they could hide while the Merids passed. Would the stolen uniforms hide them? He took a breath, tasting the moist, rotting stench he knew would always be his foremost memory of Meridian … assuming he got off the planet alive. He looked at the cracked walls of grey-blue stone and the uneven path beneath his fe
et.

  Ahead, he saw the dim forms of the Merids. This would be a nasty place to die.

  Redfire was saying nothing. Roebuck, for once, was saying nothing. Driver had to check his legs to make sure he was still walking. The Merids approached with their heads down, minding the path. Driver adopted the same attitude, checking to see that Redfire and Roebuck had also.

  The Merids were close enough now that he could hear the friction of their armor rubbing on their coveralls, the crunch of their boots against the loose gravel of the path. He breathed the smell of industrial oil and sweat on a hot day. His weapon was ready, should he need it, though the thought of a firefight in these cramped quarters was not appealing.

  Then the Merids reached them. Driver tried to keep his eyes on the ground, but could not keep himself looking up and to one side as the Merids passed less than a foot away. The sight of dark eyes looking back at him jolted through his blood. He glimpsed a chin covered with gray-black beard stubble. He froze, waiting for the Merid to speak, call out a warning to his companions. But the Merid looked away, continuing down the passageway with the others. Driver sighed and shook his head.

  “It worked,” Redfire said.

  “Maybe these uniforms will get us all the way to the others,” said Driver.

  Roebuck was less optimistic. “Not fragging likely.”

  Redfire led them down a corridor and into a long, tubular chamber. Its walls were covered with green-gray oblong screens that looked like the computer screens they had seen in historical documents. It led into another chamber. From the curve of its roof, they supposed it covered a vast area, but it was broken up with half walls and piles of debris and the twisted metal of ruined machinery. The ceiling was punctuated with inverted pyramids that pulsed slowly and rhythmically with blue light.

  “Motion sensors,” Redfire whispered.

  “How can you tell,” Driver whispered back.

  “They’re the same kind of system they use in the tunnels under the University of Sapphire at New Cleveland.” He scanned the chamber. “This seems to be, or used to be, some kind of cargo loading bay.”

  “How does that help us find Tyro Commander Lear and the others?” Driver asked.

  “The Merids must have some kind of transit system for moving people to other levels,” Redfire said.

  “We’ve got to find it.”

  He held his hands over his head and peered through the levels of the tower. “I think we’ll find vertical transporters one hundred meters east-south-east of here and one level up,” he said. “Let’s go.” They moved quickly in the direction indicated, dodging among the cargo bins. The transporters were located close to the outer wall of the structure. The transporter station was empty, but behind several panels of dirty, cracked glass-like material. Four tracks led upward from four stations. Driver was wondering how they would hail a transport, when suddenly, a light over the top of the glass doorway turned from orange to green. A glance up, and he saw a transporter coming down, a lozenge of dull gray metal with a faint blue glow at the bottom. There were eight life forms inside.

  “Fall back,” Redfire ordered. “Get back behind those containers.” Driver and Roebuck trotted backwards, pulse weapons out, and took cover behind a house-sized bin of cracked metal. Redfire took the opposite side. They saw the transport car descend and the doors open. A new squad of Merids moved out and split into four teams of two and started moving into the chamber.

  Redfire sent his team-mates a message, non-verbal, it appeared as text in the field-of-vision display projected by Driver’s suit. “Our presence has been detected. They’re moving in a search pattern. We have to take them out to get to the transport. Set weapons for heavy stun. Wait for them to pass and we’ll charge the transport.” Driver checked the setting on his pulse weapon. According to the wrist-display, it was already on a heavy stun setting.

  After the Merid shock troops passed, Redfire moved out behind them and sighted the glass panels around the transport station. He aimed his pulse-weapon and discharged. White beads of charged particle energy shattered against the material that surrounded the transport dock. The Merids were turning as Redfire swung around and fired at them. “Move it!” he shouted.

  Roebuck and Driver charged out from behind the cargo container, firing without a great deal of accuracy. Fortunately, the weapons compensated, and their pulses met their marks. Four more Merids went down as the three charged into the transporter, rushing through the door just as it was closing. The remaining two Merids fired back at them. Redfire charged through the empty frames where the glass shields had been, running backward, firing his pulse cannon at the Merids. He gave Driver and Roebuck cover until the three of them could back into the transport. The transport’s hatch locked shut just as a bolt came flying at him. The door caught the pulse, and a charred round boil appeared directly in front of Redfire’s face.

  “My lucky day,” Redfire muttered. The pod rose with surprising rapidity. A few seconds of lift were followed by an abrupt horizontal shift that almost knocked them over. They transport then resumed its upward course.

  Redfire looked toward the roof with his built-in Spex. “Stand by for more entertainment. There is a transporter headed down, with Merid shock troops numbering eight. Correction, two transports, one on the adjacent track, one on the outer track.”

  “Frag,” Roebuck said. “Why didn’t you just leave me asleep on the ship? I could be having a really nice dream right now.”

  Redfire kneeled and pointed his weapon upward. “Driver, follow my lead.” Driver kneeled on the opposite side. Redfire gave him orders. “Set your targeting scanner for closing distance. Commit when the transport pod is at twenty-one meters, maximum power.”

  “Aye.” Driver cued his targeting system for a targeting reading in meters. The pod was descending quickly, and the numbers were rapidly falling. Driver concentrated hard. He had trained with small arms at the Republic Defense Academy, and for the Odyssey Project. He had passed his training adequately, but was no marksman.

  He focused on his targeting lock, the other transport approaching. Numbers on his targeting scanner ticking off the meters of distance. 42… 41… 40. Time elongated as he fiercely centered himself on his task, until, as the readings ticked from 29 to 28, he felt he could almost breathe between them.

  In the background, he heard Redfire’s weapon discharging in long, low throbs and was vaguely aware of parts of the ceiling of the transporter wafting down like feathers, or fat snowflakes on a gentle breeze.

  23…22…21. He flexed his bicep, and the weapon discharged. He saw the first pulse blow through the top of the pod and watched as that pulse and the ones that followed flew through the air to connect with the other transport. In slow motion, the pod blew apart. Driver saw the Merids fall out of the car and into the chasm, like black cutouts with arms and legs flailing. A distant part of himself was horrified. He heard long, warped blobby sounds coming from his right and turned to see Redfire speaking to him in slow motion.

  “Excuse me?” Driver said, snapping back to normal time perception.

  “Good shooting,” Redfire said. “But I think we’ve lost the element of surprise.”

  “If they’re smart, they’ll send troopers up behind us.”

  “Not if they think some of us are still in the landing bay,” Driver said. He made a kind of folding-wave gesture with his hand that sent Prudence the activation code for her external defenses.

  Meridian – Prudence

  Far below, the external sensors on Prudence detected armed men moving toward her. Small pulse cannons emerged from hiding places under her wingblades and fuselage, filling the space of the landing zone with deadly light and making short work of the black-armored figures that had disturbed her rest.

  Meridian – The Transport Pod

  Redfire saw this via his command link. “Did you do that?” he asked Driver. “You may be the first Rep I ever considered liking.”

  “Agreed,” Eddie Roebuck put in. “Cou
rse, that depends a lot on us not dying.” The pod jerked to a halt. Redfire looked cautiously through one of the ragged holes along its sidewall.

  The area behind it was free of Merids, but he guessed that it would not be for long. They had come to a halt on the side of a long narrow corridor; a hopelessly indefensible position. On the rear of the pod was the transport shaft, a vertical drop of almost 400 meters from their current level, and on the other side of that, a narrow ledge three meters wide along the inside of the structure’s outer wall.

  Redfire contemplated their options for scarcely two seconds. “No one lives forever,” he said. Grabbing onto the handrails inside the transport pod, he leveled his weapon at the back wall. “This might be a good time to grab an ‘oh, shit’ handle,” he advised the others.

  He fired. A great chunk of the side of the transport disintegrated and fell into the shaft, leaving an opening that Redfire did not think was big enough. He fired again, this time blowing away most of the back wall and providing an excellent view of the drop-off that occupied the ten or eleven meters of space between the transport pod and the ledge.

  Redfire pointed. “See the ledge?”

  Driver nodded.

  “I wish you had told me about this plan in advance,” said Roebuck. “So I could tell you how much I hated it.”

  “Come on, it’s not such a bad jump.” Redfire reassured them ineffectively. “Get the rappelling kit out of the landing pack.”

  Roebuck pulled his pack open, grabbed the rappelling line and shooter, and handed it to Redfire. As he did so, The transport shuddered. A crack appeared in the floor, and the pod began to sag and break, providing an excellent view of the pit over which they were hanging.

  Redfire fired the rappelling gun. The line played out and found purchase in the far wall. The transport pod lurched again. They now had to hold themselves hard to the handrails to avoid falling into the crack that had opened in the floor. “Looks like you’re out of choices, Mr. Roebuck,” Redfire shouted. “Grab the line and swing.”