Augment

by C R MacFarlane

  Why did she think she was in space?

  Her poor neurons were wrecked.

  She twisted herself around, sliding through the walls back to her cell. Sleep was what she needed. Her path would look clearer as her brain healed.

  Her hands slipped easily into the restraints. She repeated, as she had done every night on Selousa, the litanies of the Gods: ‘I follow the spirits of Faith the Brave, and Knowledge the Wise, and Fortitude the Strong, and Prudence the Thoughtful, and Strength the Powerful. In these I believe and I give to myself and I will persevere in my duty with them.’

  * * *

  Sarrin woke from her quasi-sleep. She’d had another dream, this one pleasant and familiar. She’d had it many times before: a lush, green planet, with beautiful birds in the sky and ungulates in the forest, hundreds of different species, more than she’d ever thought possible. In the dream, everyone knew everyone — even the animals — and they knew her. Warmth and comfort flooded her body, it felt like home.

  No, not home. Another word echoed around her head as though it had been spoken to her. Roam? Dome?

  An image flashed in her mind: a group of Central Army decoys, falling from the stars and ripping into the atmosphere.

  Drone.

  “I wondered when you’d wake up,” said the guard, kicking at the edge of the bed again with his boot.

  She turned her head away. Evangecore had put her through years of prescience training, and her instinct told her the vision was real, very real. Before she could stop it, the darkness pulled her into the space where she could feel the subtle ripples of space and time, and she saw them: tens of little spheroids dropping through the atmosphere. Drones.

  It took a moment of searching, of useless tongue flapping, to find the words. “We are under attack. Release me.”

  The guard laughed, sharp and hard.

  She flipped back, easily seeing the drone that were headed for them, their trajectory angled straight for the hangar. Darkness clouded at the edge of her vision.

  “Come on, I wasn’t born yesterday,” he said.

  She frowned. Hoepe had warned her to stay in the restraints; the men were terrified enough thinking they had her contained. But her mental clock had already calculated and started ticking down the time until impact.

  “Boss brought you something to eat.” He leaned down.

  “Listen to me.” Sweat beaded on her back, and she pushed away the darkness.

  He lifted up a neat bowl of dehydrated rations. “He says you got to eat all of it. Regain your strength so you don’t kill anybody.” He sneered. “Me, I’d’a spaced you first chance I got, and you’d be dead just like the planet you destroyed, filthy demon.”

  Her eyes squeezed shut. If she waited any longer, they would all be dead. Or worse.

  He dangled a piece of dehydrated meat in her direction, slapping it against her mouth. The auto-syringe was poised in his other hand.

  With a smooth twist of her wrist, the restraint fell away. She grabbed the auto syringe and flung it across the room.

  A shout escaped his lips, and he scrambled after it.

  Quickly, she unlatched the rest of the restraints and sprung off the bed.

  The second guard burst in from the corridor and fired his laz-rifle blindly.

  Sarrin pushed the first guard out of the way and leapt back. Another pulse fired, close range this time, forcing her down. Darkness fogged at the edges of her vision, and she slipped for an instant.

  She threw the laz-rifle, now in her hands it to the ground. Time slowed. She sprinted down the corridor and accessed a data panel, using it to start the ship’s engines.

  The guards rounded the corner with a yell, their auto-syringes outstretched, laz-bolts bouncing along the corridor. Too many things to track.

  She shook her foggy head and ran. Her legs took her to the cargo bay, her vision swimming in and out of focus, black tendrils reaching across. She launched over the railing, landing on the lower cargo deck, and sprinted down the open loading ramp.

  Her eyes adjusted quickly to the dark, quiet hangar, the only light shining from the under the second-story office door. She ran up the steps, pushing the door hard enough it bent off its lock before it opened. Hoepe sat up startled. “You’re supposed to be under watch.”

  Her stomach churned and the vision of the sky flashed in her mind. “Drones,” she said.

  “What?” A single eyebrow quirked. “Are you sure?”

  She nodded.

  He reached for the hand-held on his desk, triggering an alarm that rang through the hangar. He turned back to her. “How many?”

  Her guards stumbled into the office, finally catching up, panting and shouting.

  “Stand down,” Hoepe waved a warning hand. “How many?” he asked again.

  Her heart raced, the darkness wrapping its tendrils around her. “Nearly a hundred.”

  “Time?”

  The drones were well into the atmosphere by now. “Three minutes.”

  His face paled. “Trigger the defence system,” he ordered his men. “Then evacuate to the ship. Get everyone out.”

  “Sir?”

  “Now.”

  She paused, waiting for Hoepe, but he waved her on from his desk. “I need to wipe the memory,” he said, “I’ll be along. Go.”

  “Two-twenty-three” she told him, and raced back down the stairs.

  A forceshield flickered as it went up around the building.

  She ran to the freightship and through its long corridors, sliding into the Pilot’s chair. Tapping the thruster controls, the ship lifted off the floor, hovering there. A three degree twist of the steering sphere took the ship to the opposite edge of the hangar, ready to fly.

  Her hand tapped absently against her chest. Her senses sharpened to deafening levels, each squeal and thud of the ship, the containers being blow around the hangar, thundering in her ears. Hoepe hadn’t yet run onto the ship — she waited anxiously for the sound of his stride echoing through the ship. Halud was snoring in his quarters on the third deck. Hoepe’s men shuffled around the cargo bay. A pair of boots — Kieran’s? — ran along the central corridor to engineering.

  The drones whistled down, close enough now to hear. The first impacts shook the walls of the hangar. The forceshield held most of it, but dust and pieces of debris started to fall, clattering across the hull.

  Another impact rocked the hangar, this time loosing pieces of ceiling and sending cargo containers tumbling across the floor. A piece of con-plas fell onto the ship, jarring it.

  They were out of time.

  She took a deep, steadying breath and spun the steering sphere, pushing the thrusters to max. The ship punched out of the hangar, tearing a hole in the walls. Around them, dozens of drones rained from the sky, crashing into buildings. Not just the hangar, but tearing through everything for a two hundred yard radius.

  Her heart crashed around, her vision nothing but a narrow spec, focussed solely on the path ahead of them. She threw the ship into a barrel roll, climbing erratically.

  “What is this?” The captain’s shriek, the only other person on the bridge, made her jump. He lurched forward. Anger poured off of him in waves, crashing into her like physical blows.

  The ship rumbled as it pushed out of the atmosphere, going far faster than regulation. He swung at her. She kept a hand on the steering sphere, keeping them on course, even as she jumped. Darkness flashed, consuming her vision.

  The ship shot into space, the rumbling ceased and the steering normalized. She threw herself across the room, as far from Gal as possible. She felt herself losing touch, losing the battle as the darkness called to her. Terrified of what he might do and what she might do the stop him, she started to undo the bolts on the panel behind her.

  Her two guards stumbled onto the bridge. “What’s she doing?” Their shouts were far away.

  Flashing light caught her eye from the Pilot console. A proximity warning.

  She looked to the large viewpor
t. The warship loomed directly ahead. Bolts of electrically charged light shot from it’s turrets.

  The impact threw everyone back, though her instincts pulled her forwards. She spun the steering sphere wildly.

  Gal recovered first. He came at her, his fist already clenched in a fist. He wasn’t slow, he had training, but he was no Augment, no Evangecore simulator. She ducked, still twisting the sphere. His blow landed on the console beside her, and he stumbled, clutching his hand.

  A laz-gun fired, and her own anger flared in her like fire, feeding the monster. The guards started to argue.

  She reached for the Engineering console. The FTL had barely begun to spool. She forced it to bypass its checks. Once the ship was out of danger, when the guards and the captain stopped attacking her, she could push the darkness away.

  Gal came at her with a shout. Her hand shot out of its own volition, her mind blank. He stumbled backwards, clutching at his throat.

  A gasp sounded behind her: Halud.

  Three laz-bolts narrowly missed her head as she automatically crouched to the ground. She fought the darkness off her as she pushed herself off the floor. Halud’s horrified look burned into her vision, and she wished she had stayed restrained. This was too much. She was unwell, ready to lose control, again, at any moment.

  Something landed on her legs, clinging to them. She screamed out.

  The darkness pushed, but the memory of the engineer’s bruised and battered neck kept her from giving in. If she gave into her fear, people would get hurt. And she couldn’t let it happen. Not again. Never again.

  She dragged herself until she could reach a hand up to the console, the guard still holding her legs, his touch burning with exchanging electricity. The FTL jump was instantaneous, no more than a few nanoseconds, yet it seemed to drag on forever.

  Safely out of range of the warship, she sighed, dropping her head.

  Another laz-bolt burned into the deck in front of her. Gal leaped and threw a punch that knocked her head against the wall. Her legs kicked out, throwing Gal. She leaped across the room with an in-human growl, taking the guard with her, twisting his arm mercilessly, the monster spurring her on.

  Halud, standing just inside the door to the bridge with his trembling eyes and open mouth, stared at her.

  One last ounce of self persevered against the darkness, reaching around the back of the guard and into his pocket. The auto-syringe hissed, releasing its contents into her neck, and she fell, unconscious, to the deck.

  TEN

  HALUD SAT STIFFLY IN THE uncomfortable, straight-backed dining chair. Ten hours ago, he had been woken from his bed when the ship suddenly flipped out from underneath him. On the bridge, his not-so-captive-as-thought sister attacked the captain and then injected herself with sedative.

  It was not, he thought grimly, the absolute worst scenario he could have imagined, but it was close.

  For a third time, they had pushed the tables in the mess hall together and convened to discuss disaster. One of Hoepe’s men sat with his head in his hands, groaning, “I just don’t understand what happened.”

  Hoepe, looking sour-faced and grim as he loomed over them, suddenly slammed his fists on the table. “I’ll tell you what happened: someone told them where we were. I’ve been here two years and pulled dozens of missions that were far worse, and they’ve never found us. Never. Now the entire compound is destroyed — most of the city is gone.” His glare pierced into each of them in turn, stopping at Rayne.

  “It wasn’t me,” she squeaked.

  “No?” he raised a challenging eyebrow. “What about your Path of the Gods? Do you even know what ‘Gods’ you serve?”

  She whimpered, sinking into her chair. Her arms caught against the restraints, and she blinked in shock.

  Beside Halud, Sarrin sat shackled to her own chair. She stared at the ceiling, her lips moving subtly, and Halud leaned away involuntarily.

  “I told you not to go to them,” shouted Hoepe, his deep voice shaking. “I told you! You didn’t listen. Do you see what you’ve done?”

  “I—I—,” stammered Rayne.

  “Don’t talk to her like that,” slurred Gal.

  Halud shook his head, wrapping a hand over his own mouth. He’d spent his life reading between the lines — how could he have been so wrong? Galiant Idim was nothing but a washed up, drunk starship captain, and he was drunk now.

  Rayne trembled, holding her shackled hands in front of her. “Please, I didn’t tell them, I swear. You have to believe me. I was going to go — yes, that’s true — but I — I didn’t.”

  “What I want to know is, how did the girl escape? Who let her go?” Gal slumped back in his chair, lifting his flask up to the growing bruise on his temple. “She was on the bridge, alone. Doing Gods know what.”

  Hoepe frowned. “Gal, put down the flask, you have a subdural hematoma.”

  “Why?” The captain shrugged. “It’s perfect — cold compress on the wound, isn’t that what the Field Medic Handbook says, Rayne?” He patted her arm roughly, and Rayne tensed, face white. “Plus,” Gal pointed to his head, “it warms up the drink. It’s always cold in space.”

  Hoepe turned his hawk-stare to the Poet, making him retreat against the chair back. The doctor gestured at Gal. “You couldn’t have found anybody else? Literally any other ship? A drunk and a devout. I’m not even sure which is worse.” He reached his long arm across the table and grabbed the flask from Gal’s hand. He took a taste, and immediately spat it out, spraying across the room. “This is disgusting,” he said and flung it away. “Methylamphetamine? Diacetylmorphine? Are you trying to kill yourself?”

  Gal scurried after it. “Hey! There’s not much left.”

  “Good,” said Hoepe.

  Gal resumed his chair. “I think you’re forgetting there was an Augment loose on this ship. We could have all been killed!” He glanced warily at Sarrin as he took another drink. “Gods, don’t let her look at me — they can read minds.”

  “This isn’t Sarrin’s fault,” said Halud.

  “She just jumped up and pushed me over,” the guard said in disbelief, his voice still muffled by his head in his hands, “and grabbed the laz-rifle out of Vazquez’s hands.”

  Gal’s eyes grew very dark, expression dark. “She’s a demon,” he said plainly. “There’s only one way out of this.” He stood abruptly.

  “Stop,” warned Halud.

  “I would push her out of an airlock, but I suspect she would survive that too. We have to destroy it.” He reached for her.

  Halud leapt to his feet, block Gal chest to chest. “Why do you think that? Do you hear the nonsense coming from your mouth? The hypocrisy?” He slapped him across the face.

  Gal reached up, stunned, and took another drink. He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Halud. She’s dangerous.”

  Halud looked at his sister, sitting perfectly still, relaxed, eyes closed. “We wouldn’t be sitting here if it weren’t for her. We’d be dead.”

  Gal took another drink. “Better off, maybe.”

  “Is that really what you want? It can be arranged,” said Hoepe.

  Rayne whimpered. “Please,” she said, “I didn’t do anything. I just want to go home.”

  Gal shut his eyes, turning away with a tired sigh. “Would you please just let her go.”

  “She’s a traitor,” answered Hoepe.

  “I didn’t tell them! What right do you have to accuse me?” She stood up, the chair scraping and dangling from the restraints awkwardly. “You’re the one who’s committing a crime, who’s against the Gods. I never wanted to be here in the first place.”

  Hoepe gritted his teeth. “Which is why you told the UECs everything.”

  “Why would I have come back if I had? No, I was —.” She looked at Gal. “I didn’t tell them.”

  Beside Halud, Sarrin flicked her wrists, the restraints rattling softly. She stood up from her chair, and he saw the restraints were missing. She turned and took a step away from the ta
ble as the room fell silent.

  Hoepe’s men reacted first, the group of them leaping across the table and tackling her from all sides.

  She shut her eyes, standing rigid even as one of them punched her in the head. Her expression stayed chillingly serene.

  “Hey!” shouted Halud.

  Kieran leapt across the table, tugging at one of the men. “Stop it,” he rasped.

  Hoepe pounded on the table, clearing his throat. The men froze in their places, and looked up like guilty children. “She escaped her restraints, Boss.”

  “She is not to be harmed,” he said. Hoepe waved his hand, and the men backed away.

  Kieran laid across the table and slowly started to pull himself back. “She saved our lives, you fools.” His voice came out slow and thick, the bruising still prominent on his neck. “This is one of the Central Army’s most highly trained soldiers, genetically enhanced, trained almost since birth. And you thought some chains were going to hold her.” He frowned as he shifted back into his chair. “She’s been cooperating, is all. And if she hadn’t warned us, they’d be digging our bodies out of the rubble right now.”

  Sarrin stood in the same place, her eyes still closed, her fists clenching and unclenching rhythmically.

  “Sarrin?” Hoepe asked.

  Her eyes opened, glancing nervously around the room. Halud reached for her but she flinched away. She moved around the table silently, stopping with her hand outstretched, open palm inches away from Rayne. She reached down and unclipped the restraints. Rayne trembled, the chair falling away and clattering to the floor.

  Sarrin glanced at Hoepe, the two exchanging a nod, and she turned padding silently out of the room.

  “Boss?” said one of the men after the doors had shut behind her.

  “Let her go,” answered Hoepe.

  “You can’t be serious,” said Gal.

  “I am.” He sighed. “The engineer is right, Galiant, Sarrin has been cooperating with us. If she wanted you dead, you would already be.”