“No!” Tate cried out. She didn’t want to let go of him until she could somehow thank him. She needed him to know that she appreciated what he’d done for them.
Too late. Billy’s long fingers slipped free, the contact was lost, and Billy began to simply fade away.
His radiant grin lingered for a moment and then it, too, disappeared.
“Billy!” Tate cried in despair.
He was gone.
Tate floated above the ruined ship, utterly alone.
And then — jump cut. Tate was inside the crashed Mother. She was on the bridge with the Shipwright-designed door towering over her head. She was watching as Billy walked in a slow circle, trailing his fingers over the dust-choked controls.
This wasn’t the glowing Billy. This was the one she’d seen walking through the desert alone. This Billy looked pale, thin, and ill as he padded softly over to one of the Shipwright’s chairs and reluctantly slipped into it.
“Mother,” he whispered fervently. “Mother, I’ve missed you. I’m so glad I found you again….”
“How may I serve you?” came Daughter’s lifeless voice.
“Mother, where are you?” Billy’s voice was too loud, too insistent, too needy. Tate covered her ears to block him out, but you don’t need ears to hear in a dream.
“How may I serve you?” Daughter repeated, oblivious to Billy’s distress. “How may I serve you?
How may I serve you? How may I serve you?” Daughter’s request echoed repeatedly, loud and soft, in whispers and shouts, until the bridge was filled with the sound of her voice.
Billy hid his head in his hands and wept.
Tate went to him. She tried to comfort him, but he was unaware of her presence. He was a character in a novel and she was his reader — unable to change the flow of events, unable to do anything but suffer along with him.
Billy recovered quickly. He was tough.
An orphan.
A child of war.
A Remnant.
He sat up. Without bothering to brush at his tears, he began to talk to Daughter. His face grew solemn with determination and concentration.
Billy’s words flew by far too fast for Tate to understand, but she could guess what he was trying to do. He was trying to access some part of Mother that was still “alive,” still available in the circuitry he knew better than anyone else.
Time is meaningless in a dream.
Billy spoke on and on.
And then —
Mother’s voice. “Billy,” she whispered with such devotion that the raw emotion made Tate shiver uneasily.
Now time slowed. Not only could Tate understand Mother’s and Billy’s words, but they spoke in a draggy slow motion.
“Mother,” Billy said with horrible longing. “I missed you. I — I never want to be separated from you again.”
“I can arrange that,” Mother replied.
Again Tate felt the urge to get involved, to talk to Billy, to tell him to be careful — but knew she was powerless to do so. She didn’t even understand what she was witnessing. Somehow she guessed that the scene before her had never taken place, that it was being created for her viewing. But why?
“Tell me what to do,” Billy said eagerly.
“Become me,” Mother said with a slight tone of pleading. “Become a part of me and no one will ever be able to separate us. Not even you. Not even me.”
“Yes,” Billy agreed immediately.
“You will no longer live,” Mother said, but she made this sound like nothing. “You will never again go back to a human life.”
“That is what I want,” Billy said without hesitation. “I want us to be together.”
“What about the five?” Mother asked. “They must come willingly.”
“They do,” Billy said.
Tate watched in horrified fascination as Billy rose from his chair and walked slowly toward the center of the bridge. He raised his arms above his head and tipped his face toward the ceiling.
Then it was as if lightning struck him, and continued to strike. A powerful burst of golden energy took hold of Billy’s body and raced through it. His muscles vibrated with pulsing energy. His expression was surprised, then agonized, then — transcendent.
Billy’s fingers pulsed and reached higher, higher. Slowly his feet left the ground and he began to shift into a horizontal position. He was floating, engulfed in the familiar golden glow.
Mother had taken him. Billy was no more.
<
Tate woke too suddenly. She was disoriented, her dream more real to her than reality. Billy was much more real than Charlie — wait, why was Charlie calling her a lump?
<
Tate began to get her bearings. She was lying on the floor of the computer pit. Charlie, Yago, Amelia, one of them — or all of them — was/were madly jerking her arms and legs. Her eyes flicked open, open, open.
“Quit it!” Tate snapped. “I’m awake and I’m in control. If any of you so much as wiggles my nose, I’ll make you sorry, I swear it.”
<
We could smell him while you were sleeping but we couldn’t see — we got your eyes open but your head wouldn’t turn — >>
Tate sat up, her skin tingling with panic, her heart rate surging with an adrenaline burst.
This was it.
Duncan was attacking.
One of them was about to die.
CHAPTER 13
“GET RID OF ME AND YOU’LL BE ALL ALONE.”
Tate scanned the space — up, down, left, right. There! Duncan was about fifty feet away. A glaze of slime on the ceiling.
<
“I see him,” Tate grumbled. She didn’t bother to point out that Amelia couldn’t have seen him unless Tate had looked at him. If Amelia insisted on pointing out the obvious, fine.
Whatever
Tate scrambled to her feet — and cursed as pain shot through her foot and traveled up her leg. She stumbled, but managed to reach the chair and fling herself in.
“How may I serve you?” Daughter asked in her unctuous tone.
<
“Saving our butts,” Tate muttered.
<> Yago commented coolly.
<
Tate disagreed. She’d noticed that Duncan — the snot creature — whoever/whatever —
looked a bit dull. The sheen had gone off his/its surface.
<
Duncan had already gotten over his hesitation. He was coming at them like an animated oil slick.
“Oh, great,” Tate muttered. She’d hoped for more time.
<
<
<
“How may I serve you?” Daughter repeated patiently. Tate felt an echo but her dream was already hazy, indistinct. She forced herself to focus on the computer and ignore the bickering in her head.
“Locate and isolate the snot creature on the ceiling of the basement,” Tate said crisply. She closed her eyes against the pain in her foot. This will be over soon, she promised herself. One way or the other.
“I cannot process that request,” Daughter replied.
“Now what?” Tate murmured. Her eyes moved upward. Duncan was directly above them.
<
Tate cringed, waiting for the attack. Would Duncan drip down on her like rain? Envelop her all at once? She longed to move, run, flee. But she knew her best chance at survival was in that chair. Maybe the lowered oxygen levels were slowing him down. Something seemed to be. He hadn’t attacked yet… .
“Isolate the snot creature!” Tate snapped again.
“I cannot —”
<
<
—” she murmured.
They didn’t know for sure that Duncan had programmed Daughter to protect himself. So why else wouldn’t she obey the command? A more sophisticated machine would explain …
“Daughter,” Tate said. “Why can’t you obey?” “I do not understand ‘snot creature,’” Daughter replied.
“Oh — okay —the creature directly above the computer pit I’m sitting in,” Tate rambled. “It has no bones, no exoskeleton, only an amorphous body—”
<
“A FLUID body!” Tate yelled. “Liquid. Like water. Can you identify it now?”
“Isolation completed,” Daughter said smoothly. Tate could hardly hear her over the shouting in her head. Amelia, Yago, and Charlie were all making noisy suggestions of how she should cope with the computer
“She said isolation completed!” Tate shouted. “Now could you all please shut up!”
The voices died down into a sullen silence.
Tate stared doubtfully up at the ceiling. Duncan was still there. He wasn’t surrounded by any barrier she could see. On the other hand, he wasn’t moving any closer.
Now might be a good time to move, Tate told herself. She began to ease out of the chair. Then —
A glistening drop split from Duncan’s body. It fell toward Tate’s face on a collision course with her eyes — and stopped in midair just above her head.
“Ha,” Tate breathed in relief. She laughed softly.
“Way to go, Daughter,” she whispered.
<
“We’re just getting started,” Tate told him. She licked her chapped lips nervously and slid slowly back into the chair. The problem was she didn’t trust Daughter any more than she’d trusted Mother. Duncan could have programmed in all sorts of booby traps. Insurance to protect himself from some inevitable confrontation with Amelia or Charlie.
Even if Duncan’s programming was clean, it seemed his virus was too strong. Tate had never worked with such a primitive machine. She had to be careful. If Daughter misunderstood her… “I want you —” Tate began carefully. Then she heard a voice that wasn’t in her head. A human voice. “Okay, you win,” the voice said with a disarming chuckle. “I give up.”
Tate froze.
<
<
<
“We don’t have to rush,” Tate said to steady herself. “He’s trapped. We have all the time we need to think.”
<
<
He’s unpredictable and completely self-absorbed.>>
<
“You don’t really want to get rid of me,” Duncan said. “Think about it — only two life-forms left from all of the creepy crawlies that once prowled Earth. It wouldn’t be moral, wouldn’t be right.”
Goose bumps rose on Tate’s arm. This was the exact thought she’d been avoiding.
<
<
<
<
“Get rid of me and you’ll be all alone,” Duncan said oilily.
That snapped Tate out of it. Duncan had suddenly reminded her of a salesman who pushed too hard. Besides, she had more than enough company. She didn’t need Duncan. Duncan was the last thing she needed.
“You know, I’m sorry we never got to know each other better,” Duncan said.
Now he was starting to nauseate her.
“Can you block communication from within the barrier?” Tate asked Daughter.
“Yes,” Daughter said.
“Do it,” Tate said crisply. “Please.”
“I know we could ha —” Duncan’s voice was cut off in the middle of a word.
<
you’d be justified killing him just for his annoying lack of originality.>>
“I want you to change the atmosphere within the barrier,” Tate carefully told Daughter.
“Within the isolated area only — not in the ship as a whole — change the atmosphere to one hundred percent ozone. Leave the atmosphere in the rest of the ship alone.”
“Change completed,” Daughter said.
Tate took in a cautious breath through her nose. She could still breathe. Okay, that was good news at least.
Slowly, Tate looked up.
Duncan was still there. He’d stretched himself out as far as the barrier would allow. He was now a thin oval pool trapped in an invisible cage. He was clearly losing his sheen now. He resembled old putty. Did that mean he was sick?
Tate cracked her jaw nervously, trying to ignore the regret ballooning up in her chest.
Duncan was a monster. But who was she to judge? She was a murderer. The worst Duncan had done was kidnap Mother. She had turned into an enormous Mouth and swallowed her victims whole like some sort of human python.
<
<> Amelia said.
<
They sounded gleeful.
Tate felt only guilt. And relief. And fear. The game wasn’t over yet.
“Daughter,” Tate said cautiously. “Increase the atmospheric pressure within the barrier to —
um, a hundred times whatever it is now.”
“Atmospheric pressure increased,” Daughter said.
As Tate watched — as they all watched through Tate’s eyes — a small Duncan-chunk shattered off the rest, leaving behind a jagged edge. For a beat, Duncan looked like a mirror with a chip taken out of one side. Then, with violent speed, the cracks spread out from the chipped edge. Duncan hung there for a breathless moment, a billion pieces suspended. Then
—
The pieces began to fall.
“Agghhh!” Tate slid off the chair and cowered beneath it.
A billion Duncan-shards silently bounced off the invisible barrier above her head. The barrier held. It was a strange sight — like looking up at a pile of dull jewels.
“I wonder if he said anything before dying,” Tate whispered. “We wouldn’t have been able to hear him.”
<
<
<> Amelia suggested. <
Tate drew her eyes away from the sight of the broken Duncan. She half-expected to see him reforming, the shattered pieces merging. She couldn’t let herself believe the danger was past.
“Daughter, keep the pieces contained and dispose of them off the ship.”
<
<
“Shut up,” Tate said angrily.
They watched in silence as the Duncan-pieces danced across the basement as if caught up in an invisible tornado. The pieces disappeared some distance away, apparently sucked down one of the EVA holes.
“Disposal complete,” Daughter said, her tone as neutral as ever
<
<
Charlie made a strange strangled sound of surprise. Yago’d said thanks. Another minor miracle.
Tate sat breathlessly for a long time, waiting for — something. The next attack, the next unexpected threat. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d felt safe. She’d forgotten how to relax. Her heart was beating too fast. Her ears strained for any sound. The ship was completely silent.
<
<
“Daughter,” Tate said wearily. “Is there anything left in the EVA chute?”
“The chute is clean,” Daughter replied. Charlie was mollified for only a moment. <
Tate closed her eyes. “Daughter, is there anything living stuck to the hull of the ship?”
“The ship’s hull is clean and intact,” Daughter said.
Charlie was quiet for longer this time. <
can anything live in space?>>
<
Remnants 13 - Survival Page 7
