“Still down there,” Jason replied. “He’s rummaging around near the computer servers.”
“He’ll be gone before you get there,” Anastasia said to Chuck.
“Jason, fire up the cleaners,” Chuck said.
“The cleaners?” Jason asked with what seemed to be genuine surprise.
“Yes,” Chuck said. “I’ll head down into engineering and flush him into the ducts. You take the cleaners through the vents and corner him.”
Already, the two robotic flyers were buzzing through the air. The hum of their central fans filled the air.
“I’ll be able to take them through the access points,” Jason said. “But if he’s in one of the crawlspaces, he’ll be out of reach.”
Chuck was already at the edge of the central shaft. Now, the corridor seemed to go down, Jasmine thought.
“He won’t have thought of this,” Chuck replied. “If we can take him by surprise, we can end this.”
“But if he gets to a console,” Jason said. “He’ll shut them down.”
“Then we have to keep him away from any of the consoles,” Chuck said, already disappearing down the brightly lit shaft.
One of the cleaners removed the cover to the maintenance shaft Mike had disappeared into previously. The robot set the cover to one side, leaving it floating stationary in the air. The other cleaner took the vent and secured it with straps against the wall. The first cleaner disappeared into the vent. Seconds later, the other cleaner flew into the vent, catching the side of the sheet metal and giving off a loud clang.
Jasmine trembled. She didn’t know what to think. A sickening feeling filled her stomach. Mike was going to die. Death is all that seemed to await anyone on the Copernicus, she thought. Nadir, Mei, when would it stop? She looked down at her shaking hand. Anastasia must have noticed, as she drifted over to her. Anastasia took Jasmine’s fingers in her heavily strapped hand.
“I’m sorry,” she said. “You know it has to be done.”
Jasmine’s lower lip trembled. She nodded softly. Ana was right, she thought. As much as she wanted to deny reality, Mike had lost his mind. There was probably some fancy psychological explanation, some carefully crafted theory that defined space fever. From the exploration of Antarctica to the doomed pioneers of the American West in the 1800s, prolonged isolation had always driven men insane. This wasn’t her Mike, she thought, trying to rationalize what was happening. This was some other Mike. This was a dream, a nightmare, it had to be. This couldn’t be real.
Anastasia rested one hand on the side of Jasmine’s cheek. Even with thick bandages wrapped around her burnt palms, Jasmine could feel the tenderness in her touch. Anastasia raised Jasmine’s face so their eyes met.
“We need to be strong. You must be strong.”
Again, Jasmine nodded, sniffing and trying to hold back tears.
“We are here not for ourselves, but for others, for billions of others.”
Jasmine struggled to maintain eye contact, but she understood it was important. As much as she wanted to look away, she looked deep into the Russian’s blue eyes. Anastasia’s face was still dirty. Her beautiful hair was scorched and tangled. With all she’d been through, she kept her presence of mind, thought Jasmine. She was tough.
“We need each other,” Anastasia continued. “There are just three of us and a billion miles of empty space.”
Three. It should have been four.
“We do what is right, yes?”
“Yes,” Jasmine managed.
“What is right is not what is easy. If this mission was easy, they would have sent chimps.”
Both women smiled.
“We are the brave,” Anastasia said. “We fight for each other. We see the mission through.”
She pulled Jasmine close. The two women floated there with their foreheads touching, resting gently against each other. Anastasia held her hand behind Jasmine’s neck, holding her tight. For her part, Jasmine closed her eyes. She could feel the warmth radiating from Anastasia’s forehead. The woman must have been in considerable pain, Jasmine thought. She should have been drugged up to the eyeballs and sleeping as her body began the slow, torturous process of healing her burns, and yet here she was, comforting Jasmine.
Jasmine breathed deeply. They were so close, she could feel Anastasia exhale. Warm air brushed against her neck.
“Thank you.”
Anastasia relaxed and they drifted apart.
“It is who we are,” she said, smiling through the pain that was obvious in each grimace. “We are social creatures. We need each other.”
Jasmine felt as though Anastasia could read her mind.
“I feel very much alone,” she confessed.
Anastasia smiled. Warmth radiated from her rosy cheeks. Her blue eyes were full of compassion as she spoke.
“We have a proverb in Russia: Ten thousand generations have led down to us. Ten thousand will stem from us. You see, we are never alone. When we were born, we were surrounded by those that love us. We live our lives as one among eight billion souls. Even in death, we are not alone. We leave footprints in the hearts of others.”
Jasmine swallowed the knot in her throat. She started to speak when she heard a sound like that of the rumbling of thunder before a coming storm.
The sound of pounding sheet metal filled the air.
“Get out of here!” cried Jason.
“What is happening?” Anastasia replied, as confused as Jasmine.
Jason spoke rapidly over the banging within the darkened duct.
“I’ve lost control of CL2. I’m not sure how long I can hold on to CL3.”
“The cleaners?” Jasmine cried as the two robotic flyers tumbled from the maintenance duct. The cleaners shot across the deck, crashing into the navigation console and sending fine shards of plastic flying through the air.
“Get out of here!” Jason cried.
Out? Jasmine had no idea what he meant. She was trapped in a flimsy tin can on the far side of the solar system. Out where? Out into space? Jasmine froze. She couldn’t move. She was terrified.
Mechanical arms wrestled with each other as the two basketball size robots fought. One of the cleaners ripped the grating from the front of the other, exposing the fan whirling furiously within.
“The airlock!” Anastasia cried.
“No!” Jasmine yelled. She couldn’t go outside. She’d seen Nadir die out there in the lonely pitch black of space. The thought of being lost in the darkness terrified her more than the grinding gears of the two robotic cleaners struggling in front of her.
“I can’t stop him,” Jason cried from the speakers behind her. “You’ve got to get out of here. Hide!”
“No.”
Jasmine struggled to remain composed. She was shaking violently. Her left leg jiggled up and down uncontrollably, but she wouldn’t run, if that was the right term for fleeing in space.
Suddenly, the two robots stopped. The vice-like pincers at the end of their robotic arms released and the cleaners floated free. Where moments before, the fans inside them had been whining at a high pitch as they struggled against each other, now they fell to a silent, ominous hum.
Anastasia inched her way to the airlock.
Jasmine reached behind herself, wanting to feel the security of the wall, but she’d drifted too far. She was helpless. Without someone coming to her aid, she’d have to wait until her slow drifting motion took her within reach of some other part of the bridge. At the rate she was moving, that would take over a minute.
Anastasia pulled herself over the cargo nets, clambering toward the airlock. She opened the hatch.
The cleaners turned away from each other with a deft, smooth motion, rotating through the air until each faced one of the women.
“Mike?” Jasmine said with a quiver in her voice. “Mike, honey, don’t do this. It’s me, Jazz.”
With the grates missing from both of the cleaners, the blur of their fans within looked deadly.
“This
is wrong,” Jasmine said, squirming with her body, trying to reach some part of the bridge. She passed within inches of one of the headrests by the command deck. If she could reach that padded leather block with her foot she could kick off and propel herself away from CL2, the cleaner closest to her, but even with her foot extended, she couldn’t quite reach. The slipper shoes she was wearing came within an inch of touching, teasing her with the promise of escape.
“Mike,” she continued. “You need help. I know it’s hard to understand, but please, trust me. I only want to help.”
Anastasia moved around the hatch, wanting to enter the airlock. She was gliding swiftly through the air when CL3 shot after her. The metal robot careened into her, sending her body flying into the metal frame around the airlock. The cleaner ricocheted up and away from the hatch, bouncing like a pinball. Its low mass was offset by its turbo-fan and its ability to accelerate sharply. CL3 recovered quickly, moving in an arc as it raced around the bridge.
Anastasia flailed through the air, reaching out with her hands and grabbing at the hull. CL3 turned away from her, joining CL2 in staring down Jasmine.
Jasmine felt her foot brush against something. She must have been drifting at an angle, as her foot rubbed softly against the side of another headrest. Without looking down, she felt around with her foot. Keeping her eyes on the two cleaners closing in on her, she hooked both feet beneath the headrest.
CL3 positioned itself slightly to her left, while CL2 drifted not more than five feet from her face. They were hunting her. The fan within CL2 pulsed, spinning one way and then another, like a racing car or a motorcycle revving its engine, with each pulse causing it to sway back and forth in the air. At that point, the robot looked more like a wild animal, one barely able to contain itself. The cleaners were sighting on her.
Jasmine had her hands out, willing the two robots to keep their distance, but she was helpless. If her arms were drawn into the open cowling, the fan blades would mangle her soft skin and probably break bones. She doubted her cotton jumpsuit would provide much protection.
“Mike. This isn’t you. I don’t know what you’re thinking, but no one wants to hurt you. No one has betrayed you. We can work this out.”
The two robots were slightly out of sync with each other, pulsing at different times. Slowly, they were aligning. It seemed obvious to Jasmine that when they overlapped they’d attack as they could both lunge at her at precisely the same moment.
“Please,” she pleaded. “Don’t do this, Mike.”
It was too late. The mechanical cleaners rushed at her, moving with an alarming burst of speed.
With her feet hooked in the gap beneath the headrest, Jasmine was able to pull herself swiftly down out of their path. The two metal robots collided, glancing off each other as she hunkered below them.
“Get out of here,” Anastasia cried, swinging a metal rod at one of the cleaners. She’d pulled the rod from beneath a cargo net and was wielding it like a spear.
The cleaners zoomed through the air, circling around and homing in on Jasmine as she crouched in the weightless environment just above the commander’s headrest.
Jasmine glanced at the airlock. If she could make it, she could seal herself in there, closing the hatch on these murderous robots, but she’d be exposed during the four or five seconds it took to cross the bridge. The cleaners had already shown themselves adept at intercepting Anastasia. Jasmine knew she’d never make it. She was out of options. CL2 raced in at her, screaming through the air with its fan blade a blur inside its hollow body. With its claw-like pincers out in front of it, the robot would easily overpower her.
Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Anastasia being dragged toward the spinning blade of CL3 by a pair of thin, strong metal arms, but Anastasia wasn’t giving up without a fight. She used the metal rod like a crow bar, prying one of the arms loose.
Jasmine took the only option open to her. She sprung out, launching herself up off the back of the seat, pushing with her thighs and aiming for the open maintenance shaft. CL2 caught hold of her jumpsuit, grabbing at the loose fabric by her ankle. A combination of the robot’s mass and momentum threw her off course. With her arms out in front of her, Jasmine managed to reach the duct and pull herself inside. The cleaner swung wildly below her crashing into the hull and losing its grip.
Anastasia screamed. Jasmine could hear the sickening whir of the main blade on CL3 slowing and grinding as it cut into Anastasia’s arm. Jasmine couldn’t think. She didn’t want to picture what was happening, but she could hear Anastasia crying for mercy as metal claws tore at her. The blade stuttered and stopped, catching on her arm. The sound of the engine reversing and driving forward time and time again made Jasmine feel sick.
Inside the narrow duct, Jasmine found she couldn’t bring her arms down. She had no choice but to struggle on, slapping at the sheet metal in a frantic effort to get away from the bridge. Behind her, hidden from sight, she could hear CL2 following her into the duct. Metal claws grabbed at her shoes, tearing them from her feet as she scrambled deeper into the vent.
“Mike, please. Don’t.”
The duct followed the contour of the deck, with several grates leading back onto the bridge. Jasmine caught a glimpse of Anastasia’s lifeless body floating aimlessly around the bridge. Large globules of deep red blood pooled in the air, forming perfect spheres of various sizes.
Without the aid of gravity, it was difficult to gain traction within the claustrophobic shaft. The walls felt like they were collapsing around her, imprisoning her in a steel coffin.
Jasmine fought with her legs, trying to push off the sheet metal and propel herself along, but the cleaner held her back. She twisted and squirmed, fighting to free herself, but CL2 had a firm grip on her jumpsuit.
“No. No!” she screamed, frantically slapping at the sheet metal. Ahead, the duct opened out into a junction. Dark shadows obscured her view, but she could make out a crawlspace too small for a cleaner. She tried to pull herself in when she felt her toes being drawn into the furious fan whizzing within the heart of the cleaner. The blades tore at her skin, cutting deep into her foot and breaking bones as they ground against her soft flesh.
Jasmine screamed, struggling to pull herself free. Pain surged through her legs.
“MIKE!”
A hand reached down for her, stretched out in the darkness. Jasmine grabbed at Mike’s wrist and with a surge of adrenalin pulled herself on against the pain in her feet. Mike’s arm was strong, rigid and stiff, giving her some much needed leverage.
The cleaner sensed something had changed as she pulled quickly away. The robot reversed the direction of its blades, trying to pull her back, but Jasmine would not be deterred. With all her strength, she pulled herself on and squeezed past Mike into the dark crawlspace. Arcs of light came from a bunch of loose, twisted wires to one side. Jasmine was careful to avoid them as she slid past him.
“What have you done, Mike?” she cried, wriggling past his legs and feet. She’d wrenched the fabric of her jumpsuit from the robotic claws, tearing herself free from the cleaner. She could hear the claws snapping at her heels. “Dear God, Mike, what have you done?”
Chapter 10: Mike
The crawlspace was cramped, even more so than the duct. Light flickered from a computer screen, but the screen was full of static. Electricity arced from loose wires hanging from what she assumed was the roof. Various pipes ran through the cavity with access points every few meters.
Below, Jasmine could hear the cleaner whizzing back and forth in the duct. The robot must have been using the junction beneath the opening of the crawlspace to maneuver. Slowly, the sound of its engine faded and she figured it must have given up and left.
Mike was lying hard up against her but they were inverted, so she was facing his legs and feet. As she wriggled on, she kept bumping into him, dragging him back with her.
“Mike, you’ve got to stop this. Please! This is madness.”
In her panic,
she hadn’t noticed, but Mike’s body was stiff and unyielding.
“Mike?” she said with a quiver of panic in her voice. The implication of his immobile form terrified her. His body lacked the supple flexibility of life in free-fall. He drifted like a mannequin beside her.
Jasmine reached out and grabbed his ankles, wanting to pull herself past him and hopefully turn around to face him. His legs were cold and stiff, and she instantly let go, shocked by what she felt. Mike was dead.
“No,” she mumbled to herself. “No, it’s not possible. No, no, no.”
Slowly, she pulled herself on past Mike. Her hands shook. Try as she might, she couldn’t compose herself.
“Please Mike. Don’t do this to me. I can’t handle any more. I can’t do this alone.”
Jasmine wanted her words to change reality. She wanted to be wrong.
“Please.”
The static on the flat computer screen provided the only light. Jasmine kept well clear of the exposed wires by the console.
“I don’t understand,” she said, finding the crawlspace was narrow but wide enough that she could turn around once she got past him. Her teeth chattered, but not from the cold. Goosebumps raised on her skin.
She drew her knees to her chest, trying to examine her legs and feet in the half-light. She was bleeding, but the blood was sticking to her wounds in large, thick globules. Her right leg was worse than her left. Deep cuts surrounded her lower calf and ankle, but her tendons seemed to be intact as she could slowly and painfully extend her foot. A large gash ran around the sole of her right foot and her toes looked like mush.
Jasmine cried. She ached. She felt sorry for herself. She was in so much pain she couldn’t think straight. Tears welled up into globs of saline water, forcing her to wipe them away with bloodied fingers.
“Why, Mike? Why?”
The corpse floating in the shadows was silent.
Muffled yelling came from somewhere distant. The sound of metal resounding against metal rang through the Copernicus as blow after blow came from the bridge. Jasmine thought the cleaner that had chased her was gone, but it must have been floating motionless just outside the crawlspace waiting for her before it suddenly raced away.
My Sweet Satan Page 20
