Archangel

by Scott Harrison

  ‘Remember, the High Council is demanding results.’ She stopped and turned, flashing him a smile. ‘You’ve always been my favourite, Keldo. I know you won’t let me down.’

  The cyberneticist’s mouth twitched momentarily as the implication of her words suddenly struck him. He bobbed his head in a curt nod. ‘Yes, Director Servalan.’

  He continued to watch her as she slipped from the room, the door sliding shut behind her with a shush of hydraulics. Then she was gone.

  Only then did Keldo allow himself to relax.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  When the energy barrier finally came down Vila was just as surprised as anyone else in the complex.

  He rechecked the instrument panel, just in case he’d made a mistake. No, there it was: power levels were at 48 percent and dropping rapidly. The energy barrier was slowly cycling down.

  ‘Hey, I’ve done it!’ He glanced up at the wall of monitors; most of them were either dark or fizzing with grey static, the rest were having trouble focusing. It wouldn’t be long before they were non-operational like the others.

  Vila swung round, waving the electronic probe in the direction of the dead monitors. ‘I’ve done it!’ he repeated.

  ‘I think you’ll find that I helped a little,’ Avon told him, snapping the maintenance cover back on to the terminal, then scooping up the extracted memory circuits and stuffing them into his pockets. He set the controls on his teleport bracelet to multi-channel, before clicking the communication button. ‘Blake, Cally, it’s done! The barrier is down. We need those co-ordinates, now!’

  *

  It was taking too long. Orac really should have finished by now.

  Cally drummed her fingers impatiently on the teleport control console and checked the ship’s clock for what felt like the hundredth time. It had been nearly two minutes since Avon’s call and she knew that it wouldn’t be long before he contacted the ship again, this time sounding a little more desperate. They had done their job—well, the first bit of it, anyway—by getting the barrier down, and now the continued success of this mission depended on whether Cally could get them out of the security station and into the correct cellblock—or as close to it as possible.

  She glared across at Orac, unable to keep silent any longer. ‘Time is running out, I need those calculations now. Avon and Vila are counting on me.’

  ‘I must familiarise myself with the complete layout of the labour camp if I am to extrapolate the optimum co-ordinates for teleportation,’ Orac snapped back. ‘The tiniest error in my calculations, even the smallest decimal point in the wrong place, and there is every danger that their molecules could reassemble inside a solid object. Which is more preferable to you, that I do this quickly or accurately?’

  ‘Right now, I’d rather have both,’ she said.

  ‘That was not an option,’ Orac retorted testily. ‘Therefore your answer is not only irrelevant, but also somewhat lacking in intelligence.’

  Cally glanced up at the clock again, her fingers hovering over the teleport controls. ‘I’ll give you one more minute, Orac, and if you don’t have the co-ordinates for me by then I’m bringing everyone back up to the ship.’

  ‘That will not be necessary. I have finished my calculations and am transferring them to your console now.’ There was an air of smugness in the computer’s voice. ‘All that was needed was a little patience. You might want to consider this the next time you are in a similar situation.’

  But Cally was no longer listening. With one hand she had activated the communicator, setting the signal to multi-channel transmission, with the other she was powering up the teleport controls, waiting for the directional guidance computer to lock on to the Orac’s co-ordinates—the general location of Kodyn Tam’s holding cell.

  ‘Blake, Avon, stand by. Teleporting now!’

  Cally flicked the controls and the teleport chamber sprang into immediate life. She reached across and operated the booster circuits, snapping down each of the three levers, allowing the power to build steadily as she attempted to teleport four separate molecular patterns to two places—Avon and Vila over to the holding cell, Blake and Jenna back to the Liberator.

  Even though they’d never tried it before, Orac had assured her it would work, reluctantly taking her through the process step by step. As long as she stuck to his instructions precisely, both parties down on the surface of the planet could, theoretically, be teleported successfully at the same time.

  The inside of the teleport chamber had begun to shimmer with a strange light. Patterns of energy and colour danced sporadically through the air, slowly coalescing until a vaguely humanoid figure was discernible. The humanoid figure split into two, quickly becoming more defined, until both were surrounded by a crackling halo of light.

  Abruptly the pulsing stopped and the now-solid forms of Blake and Jenna stepped hastily from the teleport chamber.

  Blake patted himself down, as if to make sure that all his limbs were still intact and in the right places. ‘Now that was an interesting experience.’

  ‘Not one I’d like to repeat again any time soon,’ Jenna agreed.

  According to the system log, the simultaneous teleport had been a success, just as Orac had predicted, but, even so, Cally waited for Avon to call in and confirm before she shut down the teleport controls.

  Orac’s co-ordinates placed Kodyn Tam’s position at the tip of the north spike in the cruciform-shaped building, over on the east side of the camp. Cally opened up the holographic map and waited until it slowly unfolded itself, then zoomed in on the appropriate section.

  She’d managed to sharpen the image slightly, which meant the magnification of the map could be increased by roughly 50 percent. Yet despite this, Blake still had to crane his head forward in order to study the layout properly. He carefully spun the image around so that he was now looking at the detention blocks from the northeast corner.

  ‘I want you to put me back down here.’ Blake indicated a small, paved walkway that ran the length of the block. ‘Just a little to the west of where Avon and Vila teleported.’

  The news took Cally by surprise. ‘You’re going back down there?’

  Blake unclipped his gun-belt then quickly shed his rain-sodden topcoat, exchanging it for the dry one that Cally had retrieved for him from one of the equipment lockers. It was cold and damp on the surface and the last thing he needed was his hand shaking from the chill as he aimed his weapon.

  ‘Avon and Vila could be walking into trouble. They might need my help,’ Blake said.

  ‘I’m sure Avon knows what he’s doing,’ Jenna said, running her fingers through her damp hair.

  ‘It’s not Avon that I’m worried about.’ Blake headed back towards the teleport chamber, snatching up the gun-belt on his way over, and fixing it back around his waist. He turned and drew his gun from its holster, then nodded his readiness. ‘Twenty minutes. If you’ve not heard from us by then, turn the ship around and get the hell out of here.’

  Cally powered up the teleport controls once more, quickly keying in the new co-ordinates before switching the console over to transmit mode. The lights inside the chamber began to pulse, and in the next moment Blake was gone.

  ‘How long until the pursuit ships move into intercept range?’ Jenna asked, stripping herself of both gun-belt and teleport bracelet.

  ‘If they remain at their present speed, about 32 minutes.’ Cally told her.

  Jenna nodded. ‘It’s tight, but it should still give them enough time.’ She looked uncertain, half-convinced.

  ‘Assuming no more Federation ships turn up,’ Cally said grimly. ‘Then we really are in trouble.’

  ‘We’ll worry about that if and when it happens.’ And with that Jenna turned on her heel and headed for the flight deck.

  *

  Vila hated prisons. They reminded him of his childhood—and that was one period in his life he’d really prefer to forget.

  They were in the prison yard in front of the detention bloc
k. To their right they could just make out the vast steel tripods of the ore mines further along the coast; to their left, great plumes of slate-grey smoke hung in the air above the westerly perimeter fence, the welcome result of Blake and Jenna’s diversion.

  The block’s main security door was still standing open, the interior of the building beyond was dark and unnaturally silent; to Vila it looked alarmingly like a large hungry animal with its mouth open, patiently waiting for them to approach.

  They scuttled across the yard, keeping their backs close to the wall. On the ground just in front of the security door an air-cam was lying on its side, flopping listlessly to and fro like a fish out of water. Avon prodded at the machine with the toe of his boot and it gurgled somewhat pathetically in response. He crouched down and examined the device a little more closely.

  ‘It’s resetting its programme parameters,’ Avon said. ‘Trying to re-establish a connection with the computer core.’

  Vila looked down at the machine with something resembling pity, as though it was a wounded animal. ‘Can it do that?’

  ‘Not while the computer is rebooting. But once the main power systems come back online it might just be able to link up again.’ Avon pulled himself to his feet and immediately started towards the open security door.

  Inside the building seemed dark and deserted, their footfalls echoing eerily up and down the corridors as they raced towards the stairwell that would take them down to the lower detention levels.

  Avon stopped at the foot of metal stairwell, slowly spinning around on the spot, checking that they weren’t being followed. In his haste, Vila almost fell the last few steps, grabbing hold of the handrail at the last moment and struggling to keep himself vertical.

  ‘I don’t like this, it’s too quiet. It’s not normal,’ Vila hissed, glancing nervously into the shadow-drenched corners.

  At first Avon didn’t reply. He was still turning slowly on his heel, his head angled slightly to one side, eyes narrowed, as though he was trying to hear something that was just beyond his range.

  After a while he said, ‘Something’s wrong. Even with Blake’s distraction at the side gate there should still be a handful of guards. Unless they’re…’

  ‘Drop the guns and let’s see those hands!’

  Vila heard the sound of laser rifles being cocked and knew they’d walked straight into an ambush.

  There were three men altogether; they were on the floor above and making for the stairwell. Two of them were wearing riot-helmets while the third was in a sky-blue boiler suit, a faded prison logo stencilled on his left breast pocket. This last one wasn’t a Federation guard like the other two, Vila realised with distaste. He was a trustee.

  One of the prisoners.

  ‘You heard me, lose the weapons.’ They’d reached the top of the steps now and the trooper at the front jabbed the muzzle of his rifle at the two rebels. ‘I won’t tell you again. Next time it’ll be a bolt through the head.’

  Vila didn’t need any more prompting. He detached his gun from its power-lead and tossed it away. The weapon went skittering into the shadows as Vila raised his hands, eager to show that he was completely unarmed and no longer a threat.

  The trooper’s rifle tracked slowly away from Vila, finally coming to rest on Avon. ‘What about you? Are you going to be a good little rebel too, like your friend here, or are you planning on playing the hero?’ Then he smiled. It was a smile, Vila noted, that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

  The gunshot seemed to come from nowhere, echoing down through the deserted detention block and rebounding off the high metal walls. The trooper at the back pitched forward, hitting the railing with his chest, causing him to crumple slowly to the floor.

  Instinctively, Avon dropped down onto one knee, raising his gun in both hands. He took careful aim and pulled the trigger. The bolt caught the second trooper squarely in the chest, flinging him backwards up the stairwell.

  This just left the trustee standing alone at the top of the steps, rifle hanging limply in his hands, as he stared between Avon and the direction of the other gunshot. Eventually he dropped the weapon, letting it clatter end-over-end down the steps, where Vila scooped it up.

  ‘Next time don’t leave it so long,’ Avon shouted into the gloom at the top of the stairwell.

  Blake stepped from the shadows, gun raised to cover the now unarmed prisoner. He stopped at the top of the steps. ‘A “thank you” is usually customary in these situations.’

  ‘Thank you. Only next time don’t leave it so long,’ said Avon.

  As the three men were conversing, the trustee began to shuffle slowly backwards, heading for the open security door behind him, hoping to escape to the upper levels. He stopped suddenly as Blake turned to look at him, thrusting his hands even higher into the air as if to prove that he wasn’t doing anything untoward.

  ‘These clothes…’ Blake said, indicating the faded white crest on the front pocket of the man’s overalls. ‘They’re prison issue. You’re a prisoner, yes?’

  The man nodded, keen to show them that he was being cooperative. ‘Yeah…I mean, yes. They’re for the Blue Grades. I’m a Blue.’

  ‘Blue Grade?’

  The prisoner stared at him, seemingly confused that he had to explain. ‘It means I’ve kept my nose clean since I was brought here. Not caused any trouble. So they upgraded me to a Blue. I’m a trustee.’

  ‘And what is it that you trustees do, exactly?’ Avon asked, with some bitterness. ‘Apart from helping Federation guards terrorise the other inmates.’

  The prisoner continued to stare at Blake, unblinking, making a show of ignoring the other man’s question. After a few seconds he dropped his eyes and whispered, ‘In here we all do what we can to survive. You wouldn’t understand.’

  Blake smiled tightly, his voice becoming a little friendlier. ‘You’d be surprised. We understand more than you think,’ he said. ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Tymon.’

  ‘Listen, Tymon, we need to find a man called Tam. Kodyn Tam. He’s being held on Level Delta, Cell 35. We need you show us the way,’ Blake said. ‘It’s very important to us.’

  ‘You’re Blake, aren’t you? The one that escaped from Cygnus Alpha.’

  ‘Yes,’ Blake told him.

  A slow smile spread over Tymon’s face. Then he walked past Blake, stopping as he reached the top of the stairwell and glancing briefly at the two rebels on the lower floor. ‘Level Delta isn’t down that way, you’ve come too far.’ He jerked his chin back towards the open security door that led to the upper levels. ‘Come with me, I’ll take you the quick way. The way that only the prison guards are supposed to know about.’

  *

  Corridors and passageways flashed by the four men as they tore from the observation gantry and plunged into the bright honeycomb-like tunnels of Level Delta, the sound of gunfire pounding all around them.

  They’d forgotten about the cell doors; it hadn’t crossed their minds that the power-outage would have automatically sealed them all. In the event of a power loss their default setting was diametrically opposite to the security doors, thus designed to keep the prisoners safely locked in while not trapping the guards inside the main detention area.

  Now they had no choice but to dig in and keep the pursuing troopers out there on the gantries and away from the cells while they waited for the system to finish rebooting and come back online.

  ‘The main system is designed to cycle up in a particular sequence.’ Avon explained, wincing as a shower of sparks erupted above his head. He slid himself further down behind the makeshift barricade before continuing. ‘Lights, doors and lifts first, followed by surveillance and tracking, then communication and energy barrier. The idea is to allow enough time for the generators to power up sufficiently to feed the more energy consumptive systems, otherwise the whole thing will trip again.’

  Despite his best efforts, Blake was finding it difficult to get his head up far enough over the top of the barri
cade to be able to see the troopers clearly. By his reckoning there were at least a dozen armed men stationed along the top of the gantry, maybe more. It was difficult to know for certain. He poked the barrel of his gun over the top of the upended table and loosed a volley of shots in the direction of the troopers, but most of them went wide of the mark, rebounding harmlessly off the metal guardrail.

  But where the hell had they come from? One minute the hallway had been clear, the next…It was almost as if the troopers had been up there waiting for them.

  He settled back down behind the table and checked the power pack on his belt. It was half empty. ‘How long after the doors become operational will the barrier be up and running again?’

  ‘Hard to say.’ Avon was waiting for the barrage of gunfire to ease off long enough for him to get a shot in. ‘Assuming the generator is one of the old mark-threes, the power cells will need to recharge a little first.’ Then he was on his feet, firing off three clear shots before he was driven back down again by another explosion of sparks. ‘Eight minutes. Maybe more, if we’re lucky.’

  ‘That’s always assuming that those pursuit ships haven’t reached planetary orbit before then,’ said Blake.

  Vila had wedged himself tightly in the corner, his knees pulled up against his chest, hands covering his head. He looked up briefly as the thick metal table shuddered violently against the impact of a volley of rifle shots. ‘I want to change my vote. I don’t think we should have come here after all. Who cares what Archangel is? I’m sure it’s not that bad. Let’s leave them to it, that’s what I say!’

  The overhead lights suddenly flickered on, illuminating the entire stretch of corridor as far back as the detention cells, causing Vila to yelp in surprise and bury his head in his hands once more. But then hands were grabbing at him, yanking at the collar of his tunic, dragging him to his feet by the scruff of his neck.

  ‘Get on your feet, Vila, now!’ Blake shouted at him.

  By the time they had reached the row of detention cells, power was bleeding steadily back into the system. The line of terminals at the far end of the corridor sprang to life. At first they were a broken mess of white static, then each screen began to clear as the computer circuit started its automatic reloading procedure.