Eye of the Abyss

by Michael Formichelli

  “I’ve felt worse.” It was partially true, but he knew if not for Prospero the pain would be unbearable.

  “I encrypted the defense network’s command protocols. It should take a while for the Q-virus to crack the code. I am sorry I did not think of it sooner.”

  Athame’s hand resumed its normal form, concealing the domed weapon. The burned sections of her polymer coating flaked away, and the substance remade itself into fresh clothing, skin, and hair. “Are you functional?”

  Nero looked down at himself, noting several more cauterized gashes in the bare flesh of his chest and stomach.

  I can get you patched, this isn’t fatal, Prospero reported.

  “I am,” he said. “That wasn’t so bad.”

  Remind me not to tell you just how damaged you actually are, Prospero said. Let’s try not to do this again.

  “We will take advantage of Agent Khepria’s actions and make as much progress as we can.” Athame propelled herself down the corridor.

  “You all right?” Nero looked Sorina over. It seemed the ‘bots had not considered her a primary target. Aside from the long, angry-looking welt on her neck, she only bore a few burn-cuts on her black and silver uniform.

  Her ears twitched, but she nodded in the human fashion and handed him back the GX. “I am okay.”

  “All right. Let’s get moving,” he said and offered her his hand.

  She gave it a squeeze and held on. Together they thrust off the pipes heading after their host through the cloud of dead robots.

  They spent the next twenty-five minutes negotiating the twisting corridors of the Annihilator’s gut. Nero let go of Sorina’s hand after it became apparent she was far better at navigating in zero-gravity than he was, but she stayed by his side. The air was growing warm, but the increase in heat didn’t really become apparent until it penetrated his fingers when he touched the pipes and conduits to navigate.

  “Will the Q-virus cook the ship’s circuitry if it gets hot enough?” He asked as they came around a turn and stopped against a large, closed iris of poly-ceramic steel obstructing the passageway. “I see it figured out how to work the bulkhead doors.”

  “We will die long before the temperature cooks the circuits.” Sorina came to rest beside him with a light touch on the door’s surface.

  He nodded. His upper body, bared to the air from having abandoned his ruined coat and shirt earlier, was slick with perspiration. The sweat stung his healing wounds and drifted off his skin in a mist of tiny bubbles every time he moved.

  “The bulkhead doors are operated and sealed electromagnetically,” Athame said. “My EMP projector can short the mechanism out, but we will have to force it open after unless Agent Khepria tries her skills with the system again.”

  So, that is how she disabled the defense ‘bots, Prospero thought. It seems either Daedalus upgraded the other Abyssians or this one is an advanced model.

  She is a High-Abyssian, Nero reminded his counterpart. The High-Abyssians were the top of the heap, just below Daedalus as far as rank in the Order was concerned. He scowled. “Are you saying we’re stuck without Sorina taking another risk?”

  “No. I am saying we need to decide if we are going to spend time forcing the door or seek an alternative solution. Until that alternative is determined, I cannot calculate a course of action with the greatest chance of success,” Athame said.

  “Is there a manual override?” Sorina asked.

  “No. This ship is not designed for a human crew. All of its mobile platforms are linked to the mainframe system. There is no need.”

  “What if the system malfunctioned?” Sorina persisted.

  “Then the resources on the wrong side of the door would proceed to the nearest external access port and detour around the malfunctioning segment. That is not an option for us as you are both biological units and lack e-suits.”

  Sorina looked around. “What about maintenance behind these conduits? Are there access tunnels?”

  “Yes, but they are accessed only by maintenance ‘bots. The tunnels are too small for human-sized objects.”

  Sorina bit her lower lip, ears twitching.

  Nero sighed. “So we just force the door then.”

  “I calculate we will lose forty minutes to this course of action. The Q-virus may regain access to the defensive systems in that time,” Athame said.

  He rolled his eyes. Prospero? Got anything?

  I am collating the available data. Not being familiar with this model of star vessel is not helping, Prospero responded. He could feel his SCC’s agitation adding to his own. I am accessing the Akanda’s computer to add to my processing power in the hopes of speeding up my calculations.

  There has to be something, he thought. I will not be defeated like this—

  “Wait a minute,” he said. His outburst drew the group’s attention.

  “What is it?” Sorina asked.

  “The Akanda, we still have control of it.”

  Nero, I can’t believe I am saying this, but I think you might actually have a good idea, Prospero stated.

  “Your ship is several decks away in this vessel’s hanger bay,” Athame stated.

  He nodded. “And you said when other platforms get stuck they go outside to get around the obstruction. Well, you just gave me an idea. What if we have the Akanda fly around this ship to the nearest access port? She’s fully fueled and supplied. We could last years—”

  Months, Prospero corrected.

  “—months inside her, and she’ll give us a tactical advantage.”

  “How will you get it out of the docking bay without control of the annihilator?” Athame asked.

  “My ship has HEXL cannons, she’ll cut her way out.”

  “It would require precise flying within the Einstein-Rosen Bridge this vessel is generating. Even a slight error would bring your ship into contact with the field of warped space-time and tear it apart.”

  Praetor, I would be doing the flying, Prospero transmitted with a degree of indignation.

  She cocked an eyebrow. “And we would only last until the Q-virus figured out your companion’s encryption, or sent the remaining defense ‘bots after us on the outside of the hull, or managed to hack through your ship’s firewalls and take control of it. This is not a permanent solution and may be a waste of time.”

  “Maybe,” he said, “but at the very least we can use it to hop over to the next nearest access port or the one closest to the computer core, right?”

  “Yes, that is true,” she conceded.

  “Can we open the external access ports without computer control?” Sorina asked.

  “I can physically isolate their systems and open them,” Athame responded.

  Nero took a deep breath, feeling some frustration leave him. “Good, then let’s get moving. Where’s the nearest access port?”

  “Right here. Call your ship.” Athame pointed to a recessed, circular door barely a meter across nestled in the hull approximately five-meters back from the bulkhead. There was a panel beside it labeled with a bar code and a steady green light above it. She floated over, opened the panel, and pulled out a T-shaped bar.

  Prospero?

  I’m ready, Nero. I’ve got the Akanda’s systems warmed up. Targeting the hanger doors. Firing.

  A distant rushing sound, like a far-off river, signaled the ship’s X-ray lasers cutting through the hull. They listened, watching each other, holding on to the pipes and girders as they waited for the sound to stop and signal that hope was on the way. It was several minutes before the hum of the annihilator’s systems dominated the air once more.

  I’m through the door. I’ll have the ship here in a few minutes, Prospero said.

  A metallic rumbling accompanied a vibration in the pipes around them.

  “What was that?” Nero asked.

  “The bulkhead doors opening in other parts of the ship,” Athame responded. “The Qismat virus has regained control. I expect we will be attacked soon.”

&nb
sp; He nodded and braced himself as best he could against the nearest conduit. Sorina grabbed the one next to him. He moved to give his gun to her, but she shook her head.

  “I’ll hack them again.”

  They heard another sound deep within the ship, higher pitched than the first. A moment later the bulkhead door dilated open and a breeze blew down the corridor.

  “Let’s go,” he said, but Athame grabbed his wrist before he could kick off.

  “The external hatches just opened,” she stated.

  He frowned. “What?”

  “This one will not open because I pulled the manual override. However, the others on the ship are open to space. As the bulkhead doors are also ajar, it seems the Q-virus has decided to deprive you of atmosphere.”

  The breeze picked up. Far off he could hear a whistling sound.

  Prospero?

  Almost here. This is careful work—

  Hurry it up! He looked at Sorina. She grabbed the pipes around him with all four of her limbs, pinning him to them with her body.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, but the words were lost as the whistle increased to a roar. The temperature plummeted along with the pressure as the moving atmosphere became a torrential wind around them.

  Fuck fuck fuck! He chanted in his mind as frost started to form on the pipes. His ears popped sending needles of pain through his skull, and a shiver wracked his body. The pipe he held cooled from uncomfortable to numbing cold in seconds. In a strange contrast, he felt his insides start to burn. His fingers swelled along with the pain in his head, and black spots formed around his vision. He couldn’t feel his skin anymore. He blinked, trying to stay focused. His pants felt tight.

  He looked over and saw Athame twist the T-shaped rod. The hatch slid aside. Beyond it he recognized the inside of one of the Akanda’s airlocks. He turned his head to signal Sorina to make her way over and stiffened.

  She was gone.

  His eyes widened, burning in the falling pressure and the freezing cold. The world went silent around him as the last of the air fled. The drop in ambient temperature darkened his vision.

  Prospero?

  Electrolocation shows her one-hundred and fifty-meters to your right.

  “Get aboard your ship. I will retrieve her.” Athame launched herself into the air, flying down the dark corridor.

  Nero gritted his teeth and kicked off after the Praetor with all the strength his artificial muscles could put out.

  What? What are you doing? She’s robotic, you’re not! You’re going to kill us! Prospero screamed in his head.

  He refused to listen. He wasn’t about to leave Sorina’s fate to someone else, and he wasn’t going to lose another person he cared about because he failed to act.

  Now this is just crazy, Prospero thought at him.

  He and Praetor Athame shot through the dark corridor. Ahead he could see the infra-red light generated by Sorina’s body. They were catching up, but she was fading fast. He didn’t need Prospero to tell him what it would mean if that light went out. He was not going to let that happen.

  Here, Prospero said, and his electrolocation sense intensified. The corridor of pipes and conduits lit up in shades of gray around him that he could both see and feel like a ghostly touch on his skin. Okay, if you’re going to do this do it right. Slow, steady movements and counterbalance them with your body. I’ll handle that part so you don’t screw it up.

  Nero concentrated on Sorina, focusing his entire being on getting to her. She was ahead of him, curled up around herself, drifting with her eyes shut.

  He reached out, feeling other parts of his body move without his direction. There were only meters between them now, then centimeters. His ears rang, his blood burned as it pulsed through his veins, but he refused to give in. Her light was almost out, and he knew if it fell to darkness, so would he. He wouldn’t let that happen.

  He didn’t feel anything when he closed his arm around her waist, but he saw his arms wrap around her. Ahead of them the inky darkness stretched out into infinity. He needed something to bounce off against to get them moving back towards the Akanda, but there was nothing he could do except to wait for a girder or bulkhead to appear. The burning void stretched on despite his hopes, seeping deeper inside him with each passing second.

  He felt something grab his belt and yank him hard as Athame shot past, then he was moving in the opposite direction, or at least he thought so, but without air around him or gravity he couldn’t tell the difference.

  It only took a moment for Athame to fly by again. Her compact form shot up to where the hatch leading to the Akanda was, and without touching anything, slowed down. Her body bobbed in the air as she got ready to grab them.

  Remember the magnets, Prospero said. She has electro magnets in her body, it allows her to maneuver in this environment.

  I’m going to need that, he thought, feeling detached from himself. Maybe they could install some in his body if he survived—no, not if. He would survive, and more importantly, so would Sorina. He knew it for a fact when Athame snagged them in her hands and carried them into his ship.

  Chapter Three

  Calemni IIb, Extra-Terrestrial Mining Corporate Colony

  41:2:42 (J2400:3172)

  “Meia, I think you might want to get to someplace where you have a clear view of the landing platforms or send the MRD to scout them,” Iapetus said through her cerebral computer implant.

  She froze holding the can of preserved fruit half way between the cabinets over the sink and the nylon satchel slung across her body. Beside her the putrid, half-desiccated body of the house’s former occupant lay in a large brown stain on the checkered floor. Most of the houses were like this, occupied by the rotting dead. It took almost the full first week after Iapetus woke her to get used to the rancid smell. It was unpleasant, but she had to survive, and since the colony was in a desert, there was only one source of food and water.

  She finished taking the cans from the cabinet and stepped back over the body, heading for the house’s outer door. What’s going on at the platforms?

  “A ship has landed. I have detected multiple contacts, and none are the Praetor.” Iapetus’ words made her heart-rate double. She picked up the pace, crossing the pile of overturned furniture barring the door in half the time it took her to break in.

  Outside Iapetus waited with his arms behind his back in a relaxed stance that, if he were human, would give her the impression he was awaiting inspection by a superior officer. His body, a DS-109 combat drone, had layers of overlapping, dark-gray bands of poly-ceramic alloy encasing him like an ancient-Earth mummy. Short gun barrels protruded from a pair of miniature turrets mounted like pauldrons on his shoulders. His head was encrusted with tens of tiny sensors in neat rows beneath a translucent, armored skull which gave a spider-like appearance that some of her fellow officers found disturbing. To many the DS-109 was the intimidating face of Confederate military dominance, but in the months since Meia was marooned she grew to depend on Iapetus, the AI housed within the heavy combat platform. He earned her respect, more than any other soldier ever had. Without him, she knew, she would have died in the Siren attack or in the long days afterward.

  Once outside the house her mouth dried out in the cold, parched air, but it was a small price to pay for relief from the stink of rotten bodies. It wasn’t that the dead weren’t out here too, they hung from lampposts and were strewn about the colony’s streets like the decorations for some sort of macabre village festival, but those who perished in the open were desiccated long before they had a chance to rot.

  Meia looked up at the overhanging roof above her. “Mr. D might attract attention. We don’t want to risk what happened last time.”

  Mr. D was the Military Reconnaissance Drone grasping her armored wrist with its four, curved pylons. Powered by micro-ion jets, the MRD served as her eye in the sky, and had saved her life numerous times. Though small and maneuverable, the oval drone became a liability when the Praetor arr
ived. Somehow, the servant of Daedalus could detect it from hundreds of meters away, and tracked it back to her the last time she used it. She couldn’t take that chance again.

  “What are the odds the Praetor’s ship is in scanning range?” she asked.

  “We have nineteen minutes before its orbit takes it back into range of the colony,” Iapetus answered.

  “Give me a boost.” Nineteen minutes was enough time for a quick investigation. The landing platforms weren’t too far, and a ship was worth the risk. In the worst case scenario she would use the utility tunnels beneath the colony to escape again.

  Iapetus crouched down, cupping his metal, human-like hands together into a sling. She stepped into his grasp and felt herself hoisted upward in a smooth motion that only a strong machine could manage. Once within reach of the roof’s edge she pulled herself up and walked to the dome’s apex. The sun was high in the sky but a weak dust storm had impregnated the air with sand. The combination made for a hazy-but-functional view across the colony. With the exception of the municipal building at its center, the domed architecture popular in this colony made it look like she was eye-level with a box of brown-sugar topped cupcakes. The thought tickled her, and a smile formed on her chapped lips, but faded when she spotted the ship.

  The landing platforms were at the edge of the colony near a set of warehouses, and they had a new occupant. On the platform beside the one hosting her shuttle was an unusual craft with a bulbous fore-section and a narrow tail. The design was strange, and looked a bit like the craft was modeled after the Earth whales she learned about in high school. There was a shimmer in the air around its black form, and in the chill of this world’s frigid atmosphere, she knew that meant it had an active aegis field.

  She prompted her optics to zoom in to 100x magnification and ran them over the smooth lines of the vessel’s body. “I haven’t seen anything like it before.”

  “It landed while you were inside. I did not transfer most of my technical databases when I copied myself to this platform, but I do not recall anything like it in the ship’s IFF directory,” Iapetus responded.