Survival Game

by Gary Gibson

  ‘They all went off to look at the Easter Island statues.’

  ‘Why didn’t you go with them?’

  ‘I said I was too tired. You?’

  He blew smoke to one side. ‘They didn’t invite me.’

  Clearly the Soviets had the measure of him. ‘I need you to see something.’

  He took a draw on his cigarette and sighed. ‘These beads of yours?’

  ‘Yes,’ I said testily. ‘I haven’t seen you in a week. Where have you been?’

  He gazed back at me calmly. ‘Reconnoitring,’ he replied. Something in the way he said it made me unwilling to ask for clarification.

  I pulled on a pair of thin gloves, then opened the box, lifting out the grey bead and holding it in my palm before him.

  ‘What is it, exactly?’ he asked warily, peering down at it.

  ‘Some form of highly immersive technology – perhaps the Syllogikos equivalent of a holiday snapshot. The experience is short, but powerful. Here,’ I said, holding it out for him. ‘It’s quite safe, but takes effect the moment it comes into contact with skin. Frankly, there aren’t the words to do the experience justice.’

  He looked at it askance, but let me drop the bead into the cupped palm of his hand. I watched with interest: I had not yet had the opportunity to observe the effect the beads had on another person.

  He stiffened immediately, his lips parting and his eyes becoming glazed. He remained quite still. Then, after barely more than a few moments, his shoulders relaxed and his gaze once again focused on me.

  ‘The girl . . .’ he managed to say. ‘. . . how? Who is she?’

  ‘No idea,’ I said, letting him drop the bead back in the box.

  ‘Whoever she is, she was important to someone who died in those caverns.’

  He nodded at the box. ‘What about the other bead you’ve got there?’

  ‘Not a holiday snapshot by any stretch,’ I replied, offering it to him.

  I waited and watched as he held it. When I myself had held either bead, the subjective experience had lasted perhaps a minute or two. But from watching Borodin, I realized that however long the subjective experience might be, objectively it lasted no more than a few seconds.

  By the time he dropped the bead back into its box, his skin had turned quite pale.

  ‘Now you understand,’ I said, ‘why I wanted you to touch them.’

  ‘Who else has seen these?’ he asked, taking the box from me and studying the delicate carving on its sides.

  ‘No one,’ I said. ‘Just you and me. Gospodin Borodin . . . based on that second bead alone, I urge you to consider making the retrieval of the rest of those beads as much a priority of our mission as obtaining the Hypersphere.’

  He snapped a look at me. ‘Be careful what you say, Katya. I don’t like having to repeat myself.’

  ‘But think about that thing falling from the sky!’ I tapped the lid of the box. ‘It might be a memory of the very event that caused the Syllogikos to abandon every one of their bases that we found! Surely, if that is the case, we need to make finding out the nature of that threat a fundamental priority.’

  ‘As academically interesting as such a goal might be, it’s still far from relevant to our mission objective.’

  My jaw nearly flopped open. ‘How could it not be relevant? If these beads can give us clues as to what extinguished the Syllogikos, should we not focus all of our energies on avoiding the same fate? Someone carried those beads all the way to those caverns and died there. We only have these two beads, which means we’re seeing only one tiny part of a much larger picture. The rest of them could contain information that proves equally devastating.’

  ‘No,’ he said with abrupt finality. ‘Returning to the caverns as well as capturing the Hypersphere would significantly increase the risk of being caught – and it would cost both our lives, Katya, to return home without the Hypersphere.’ He pushed the box back into my hands. ‘Perhaps you should have left it where you found it.’

  ‘For God’s sake, Borodin!’ I almost shouted, then dropped my voice again even though no one was around to hear me. ‘This is as important, if not more important, than obtaining the Hypersphere. What use is it to the Tsar or anyone else, if there’s nothing left of the Empire but ruins?’

  Borodin stared calmly down into my face, then reached out without warning, taking a firm grasp of one of my hands. He dug his thumb deep into the inside of my wrist.

  I gasped at the pain, and pushed my free hand against his chest as I tried to wriggle from his grasp. But for all my efforts, he might as well have been carved from stone.

  ‘Do you know,’ he said, digging his thumb ever deeper, so that the pain became nearly unbearable, ‘that I wasn’t sure until the very last moment whether or not I would let you live? Talented and resourceful you certainly are, but you are also wilful and unpredictable. The fact that you’re as much of an expert on Hypersphere technology as your father is the only reason you’re still alive, and the only thing I want to hear about from you. Stop questioning me, Katya, or I might decide I made a mistake in not shooting you as well.’

  He stared hard into my eyes, listening as my breath came in short, sharp gasps. He finally let go of me, and I snatched my hand back, pressing my aching wrist close to my chest. Borodin started to cough, and pulled out a handkerchief, pressing it against his mouth as he hacked away for several seconds.

  ‘I never want to hear about those beads again, do you hear me?’ he rasped, pushing the rag away again. ‘Now, concerning Jerry Beche – I saw you talking with him at the party a week ago.’

  ‘I asked to see his notebook,’ I said dully, still cradling my hand. ‘I even asked if he would take me on a trip to Delta Twenty-Five and he flatly refused both requests.’ I forced myself to meet his eyes. ‘He’s not interested. Surely even you can see that?’

  ‘Then you might be interested to know that Beche is scheduled to return to Delta Twenty-Five tomorrow,’ he said, ‘and that he intends to invite you to join him.’

  I stared at him. ‘How could you possibly know that?’

  ‘I listen carefully and ask the right questions,’ he said. ‘A skill I wish you shared.’ He lit another cigarette with shaky hands and blew smoke into the air. ‘But from what I understand from Damian, Mr Beche got talking to Elena Kovitch about you – one hopes out of romantic interest, rather than anything else. What else did you say to him, when the two of you were chatting?’

  ‘Nothing of consequence,’ I said. ‘Mostly he told me about being the last man on Earth.’

  ‘Ha.’ Borodin grunted dismissively. ‘They all tell the same story. Still, with any luck it means your effort is paying off.’ He stepped closer to me and I ducked my head away from his, my cheeks burning like fire. ‘Employ any means you can to get hold of those coordinates, Miss Orlova. Any means. And remember,’ he added, in the moments before he disappeared back into the shadows, ‘the lives of many people, not just your father, depend on it.’

  The next morning when I made my way downstairs, I had to pretend to be surprised when I found Jerry Beche sitting at the kitchen table with Boris, Vissarion and Katya.

  ‘Hey,’ said Jerry, looking up at my approach. ‘I was hoping I’d catch you.’

  ‘What is it?’ I asked, heading for the cupboard where the coffee was kept.

  ‘I’m going back to Delta Twenty-Five this afternoon to take care of some routine stuff. You said a few nights back you wanted to take another look around, so if you feel like tagging along . . . ?’

  ‘Thank you.’ I nodded, fumbling the coffee jar and nearly dropping it. ‘I would be delighted.’

  Jerry stood. ‘Great.’ He clapped Vissarion on the shoulder. ‘Thanks for the coffee. Can you be at the transfer hangar at two this afternoon, Miss Orlova?’

  ‘Katya. Please.’

  ‘Katya.’ He nodded. ‘Sure thing.’

  ‘Perhaps he likes you,’ said Boris once the Pathfinder had departed, as if announcing my execution. �
��Maybe your boyfriend next door will be jealous,’ he added, with a slight rise of his eyebrows.

  I gave him a perplexed look as I poured hot water from the kettle into a mug. ‘Who?’

  ‘Borodin.’

  ‘He is nothing of the kind!’

  ‘Really?’ asked Elena casually. ‘The two of you do look terribly earnest when you’re talking to each other. And always away from the rest of us! It’s almost as if you knew each other before you came here.’

  ‘Borodin is nothing to me,’ I insisted, stirring my coffee a little too forcefully.

  ‘Don’t listen to her, Katya,’ said Boris. ‘No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t possibly be as big a slut as Nina was.’

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘When we were at that bar with the Pathfinders, she disappeared with one of them for several hours,’ explained Elena. ‘The one named Randall Pimms? When I protested to Director Blodel about her arrest, he informed me she had also “compromised” one of his soldiers and stolen his keys for the main compound. All that, in less than a few days.’

  ‘I fucked her too,’ said Vissarion, flicking idly through his orientation manual. ‘The night before we got here.’

  ‘I hope you didn’t tell her anything you might end up regretting,’ Elena said darkly, her gaze fixed on me for some reason. ‘I’ll be coming along this afternoon, by the way.’

  It took me a moment to realize what she was saying. ‘To Delta Twenty-Five?’

  She nodded, her gaze unblinking. ‘I hope you don’t mind that Jerry invited me as well. It’ll be a wonderful opportunity for the two of us to get to know each other better. I’d love to ask you about your PhD work in St Petersburg,’ she added. ‘In fact, I think we might have mutual friends.’

  And with that, I knew Elena had seen through the cracks in my disguise.

  NINE

  The rest of that morning passed quickly with a discussion led by one of the Authority’s leading physicists. I ate a quick lunch, then walked the short distance across the compound to the transfer stage hangar, with Elena by my side.

  Inevitably, she asked me questions I would have rather not answered, concerning when my studies had taken place and who my professors had been. I had been carefully coached on the details of my forged identity, but there are always gaps. For that reason I felt desperately grateful to see Jerry waiting for us by the hangar entrance, and for the opportunity to bring the conversation with Elena to an abrupt end.

  We donned our respirators before climbing onto the transfer stage. The control rig was unmanned, and I saw Jerry walk over and sit down before it. He reached inside his jacket and slid out his battered leather notebook.

  ‘What are you doing?’ I called over.

  ‘Technician’s catching a smoke break,’ he said. ‘Might as well program it myself.’

  I watched as he punched the coordinates for Delta Twenty-Five into the rig, and wondered how I might get my hands on the notebook.

  We arrived on Delta Twenty-Five in early evening. I heard the regular, piercing cry of some animal or insect from far away. Elena’s expression had become sour, and I made a point of avoiding her gaze whenever possible. I wondered if I had too obviously tried to dodge her questions.

  There was no one around as we stepped down from the stage. Beyond the doors of the hangar, tall arc lights made silhouettes of the surrounding jungle. We traipsed outside, following Jerry towards an Excursion Vehicle parked near one of the sheds. These all-terrain trucks combined a mobile laboratory with living quarters and had a built-in airlock. Melancholic jazz drifted towards us from within the truck’s open outer airlock door.

  We passed some tents, lit from within but empty. I noticed a glass vial, shattered on the ground. We kept going until we were most of the way to the EV.

  ‘Where is everyone?’ asked Elena as we walked. ‘Isn’t someone always supposed to be on duty at the hangar? It was deserted when we arrived.’

  Jerry’s head bobbed. ‘Supposed to be, yeah.’ He came to a stop, gazing around the darkened perimeter, the shadowed buildings and huts and tents, then back at the hangar. ‘There really should be someone here, except . . .’

  ‘Jerry,’ I said faintly, pointing at the paving stones underfoot. ‘Is that . . . is that blood?’

  He peered down near my feet at a dark red stain and his eyes grew wide.

  ‘Jerry?’ I asked again. ‘What should we—’

  ‘Get back to the hangar,’ he said abruptly, turning to look every which way. ‘I don’t know what’s going on, but I really don’t like this.’

  ‘Is that necessary?’ asked Elena. ‘Why don’t we just look and see where everyone—’

  ‘I said, get back to the hangar!’ he roared, grabbing the other woman by the shoulder and pushing her back the way we had come. ‘Run,’ he bellowed. ‘You too,’ he shouted at me. ‘Now!’

  Elena’s face was full of fright and confusion, but she did as she was told. As did I: something in Jerry’s voice, not to mention the bloodstains, made it clear something was very, very wrong.

  ‘Wait!’ said Elena when we were only halfway back to the hangar. She stopped and put her hands on her knees, panting from the exertion. ‘Look ahead. Can you see that?’

  I looked towards the hangar. At first I saw nothing, and was about to open my mouth to say so, when I saw something slither through the shadows near the hangar entrance, as if moving to intercept us. It was more like a disturbance in the air than anything physical – a shadowy outline that almost revealed itself in my peripheral vision. When I looked straight towards where it should be, I saw nothing.

  Almost, I thought, as if it were invisible.

  ‘Do you see it?’ Elena asked again, gasping for air.

  ‘I see it,’ I murmured. My eye caught more movement, this time up on the roof of the hangar – a liquid, flowing motion.

  A breeze blew through the strange trees surrounding the paved compound, and in the swaying motion of their branches I imagined a thousand invisible monsters waiting to rend my flesh.

  ‘I’ve changed my mind,’ said Jerry, his voice thick with fear. ‘Go back the other way. Head for that truck with the open door, and run like hell.’

  We ran. Elena seemed to have caught her wind, and she managed to keep up with both of us. It was a good hundred metres or so to the EV, and I was neck and neck with Jerry by the time we reached it. I never once looked back: I didn’t want to know if any of those strange, undulating shadows were slithering towards us.

  Jerry threw himself inside the truck’s outer airlock door ahead of me. Soft jazz still played from somewhere inside. Somehow that made the whole episode even more frightening. I saw him hesitate before stepping through the inner airlock door and into the truck’s main cabin, turning to look at me briefly as if there were something important he had to tell me. Then he stepped forward and out of sight just as I reached the truck myself.

  Once inside, I glanced through the open inner airlock door at the truck’s interior, most of which was taken up by a materials analysis lab. It looked as if someone had emptied the contents of a butcher’s shop onto its floor. Jerry stood just inside the cabin, staring down at the shredded remains of what had once been a human being.

  I turned back to see Elena pull herself inside the outer airlock door. ‘Katya,’ she gasped, ‘help me get this door shut.’

  I nodded, reaching past her and taking hold of a handle attached to the inside of the door. Before I could pull it shut, however, something slammed into the truck with such force that it rocked hard on its suspension.

  I lost my grip on the door handle, and Elena stumbled backwards, falling out of the truck. She got to her feet quickly, and I grabbed her arm to help her back inside. But even as I did so, she let out a sudden, sharp gasp, the colour draining from her face.

  To my unending horror, I saw what I can only describe as a monstrous outline trying to drag her away from the truck. Whatever it was, it had hold of one of her legs. I
could look right through the creature, as if it was made of living glass: the hangar was visible through its body.

  Suddenly Jerry appeared at my side, reaching past me to grab hold of the outer airlock door’s handle and slamming it repeatedly against whatever monstrous thing was trying to drag Elena away.

  Suddenly the creature let go of her, and I fell backwards, Elena landing nearly on top of me. But at least she was inside with us, and not outside with that thing, whatever it was.

  Jerry pulled the outer door shut and quickly locked it. I screamed as the creature again rammed the truck with such force that I feared the EV might tip over onto its side.

  In the next moment, the air was filled with a high-pitched roar that drove sharp needles of terror deep into my flesh.

  I climbed out from under Elena and saw an ugly gash torn down the length of her right leg. She was bleeding profusely through the tattered fabric of her trousers. I swallowed, feeling faint from nausea and stress.

  ‘Jesus Christ,’ said Jerry, over and over. ‘What was that thing?’

  I looked at him in disbelief. ‘You don’t know?’

  ‘Of course I don’t fucking know,’ he snapped. ‘We’ve never—’

  There was a soft thump, and another, lighter tremor ran through the suspension. The truck rocked more gently this time, and I heard a sound like snuffling from just overhead.

  Jerry looked up at the roof of the truck, then dashed past the ruined body in the main cabin and dropped into the front driver’s seat. He hit a switch on the dashboard and the music finally cut off.

  The truck rocked again, see-sawing from side to side. I thought of a cat prowling around on top of a birdcage. Elena moaned and shifted beside me. I had to do something for her before she bled to death.

  I looked around and saw a cupboard up high on one wall of the main lab section, marked with a red cross. I had to stand next to the gutted corpse in order to reach it, but I soon managed to find several long rolls of gauze, a bottle of iodine solution, a pair of scissors and a needle and thread.

  The truck rocked yet again, and I heard more thumping from just above our heads.