Against A Rock

by Kalin Ringkvist

  “Okay, I want everybody to move into the open,” she announced, “Everyone not tending to a medical task, I want you over here.” She motioned for them to move. It was mostly an exercise in obedience, to confirm that they were truly hers and not just pretending, but their reactions indicated that it helped them understand their place and comforted them to have orders to follow.

  How are things going, Mahran? she asked.

  Things seem to be shaping up on my end, he replied, at least in a tactical sense. It seems like crew throughout the ship are either giving up, or sitting back to wait for Allihence to regain control. Word of the explosion has gone out, and many believe you were killed, and they hope that without you, your ‘virus’ will not be able to maintain control. However, guards are still posted at every possible route to the pod chamber. The easiest way I see is through about twelve different guards.

  Floreina scanned her own map, rotating it frustratingly, searching for some magical angle that would reveal the secret route to the end of the rainbow. Her search concluded that Mahran was correct. There was virtually no way to get there safely now that the captain’s personal guards had been capable of blasting their way through enough hatchways to gain access to the sensitive areas.

  “Let us pray,” she said finally, now that the slaves were organized. She sat down on the edge of the last of the rows of crates and looked out on the hundred and fifty slaves packed into the open area between the rows of crates and the nearest bulkhead. She led them in prayer, first giving thanks for the bounties of the universe and the myriad wonders of New Eden that make life so diverse and interesting. Then she asked for His guidance for her the slaves, to help them overcome adversity, and find the path toward righteousness and salvation. And she asked for specific guidance and ideas for their situation; on getting her and the slaves off the ship safely.

  Silently she asked for forgiveness for all the Amarrians and innocent slaves she had killed, but the Lord replied without words, showing His love, and directing her attention toward the complexity of her own emotions and the thrill of the adrenaline pumping through her veins, and reminded her that it was all necessary for the story He had created for New Eden. She had nothing to fear, and nothing to feel guilty about.

  She finished by returning to a note of appreciation, specifically thanking Him for the loyalty of these hundred and fifty individuals before her, then more generally thanking Him for The Scriptures and His system of society that could allow Minmatar and Amarrians to come together in peace and love for a common purpose.

  “Master,” spoke a slave by the name of Kaurine, “I had an idea—the Lord gave me an idea during your prayer…”

  She nodded at him.

  “You can take someone’s clothing, and dress up like one of us… cut your hair, and at first glance you would look like one of us.”

  “They would recognize me as Amarrian far too quickly,” she replied, holding back a laugh at the cliché idea that had been her first thought as well. “It could work if a large portion of you came with me.”

  “That’s what I meant,” Kaurine replied. “We can tell anyone we meet that we have orders to repair something… they told us that all the communications are down… no one would know… would they?”

  Her systems flashed a warning. She had an hour and a half before the abolitionists outside would officially consider her dead, and would begin their ‘plan B’ attack, for which Floreina had been allowed no tactical input. But despite the time crunch, she knew she needed to take some time to plan.

  “Okay,” she said, “let’s work together and figure this out.”

  ______ ______ ______

  Something doesn’t feel right, Master.

  I was thinking the same thing… have you been able to see anything?

  No, Ma’am. They managed to put out the lights in a couple more rooms.

  Floreina looked around at the sixteen slaves surrounding her and their plain brown one-piece work suits. Purely functional, they sported no unnecessary stitching or even something as frivolous as a collar. Even as Floreina discussed their life and death situation in the back of her mind with Mahran, she somehow couldn’t help thinking about the slave suit she now wore, and the identical clothing on the others around her, and allowed herself to feel the disgrace, as though wearing their clothing could make her one of them… but fortunately her normal uniform remained underneath, creating a heavy and uncomfortable load.

  They’re aware they’re being watched, Mahran continued. They’re taking more precautions than just shooting out the lights. They’ve all gone to silent comms.

  Somehow they would know she was still alive. There were simply too many possibilities for communication, and very few of the remaining slaves in the cargo bay wouldn’t be willing to give away that information.

  There would be another fire fight; for certain…

  …they would see her coming.

  Unlocking, Mahran informed her, referring to the hatchway ahead. Clear. Ready for your passkey.

  Floreina typed her password into the tiny terminal on the door and watched it slide open as she continued thinking of the inevitable, imagining the situation and the view, and allowing her tactical systems to create projections and strategies based on her fantasies.

  They would come from numerous hatchways at once, blowing their explosives in unison to get the surprise on them. Then they would run in and fire on everyone, and she would be forced to sneak out some back angle as she watched the slaves being slaughtered around her, ducking behind them and even pulling one or two along to act as a barrier.

  Master, I fear there may have been a hacking attempt on the side door along the next hallway. I just tested it, and the time signatures don’t match. It’s dark on the other side now. Mahran paused. It’s dark up ahead as well, through the next hatch.

  Are you kidding? She asked. They’re going to be waiting on the other side.

  I did a head count of the security officers and there’s only two unaccounted for, he replied. There could be others, but only two security officers.

  Floreina paused for a second inside the next corridor as she took the names and checked the history on the two missing officers, gauging their predicted level of combat skill and implant technology.

  Can you trust all the slaves in your group? Mahran asked.

  Not really. Software only predicts a sixty percent chance they’ll all turn out to be loyal… but we’ve got no choice at this point.

  They reached the other end of the corridor within a few moments. I’m just going to poke my hand in and fire a shot. I want you to watch closely. The blasts should light up the room enough for you to see who’s in there. I want you to immediately call out the number of people inside. I’ll pull my hand back and shut the hatch, and you seal it again.

  Okay, sounds good. Are you ready?

  Ready. She replied.

  Unlocking… said Mahran. …clear.

  She typed in her passcode.

  The door buzzed a rejection.

  “Excuse me?” she said aloud, and punched her code in again.

  Another rejection.

  Mahran?

  A long pause. I don’t know… he replied. Trying to check.

  She typed the code in again and clicked enter, but still nothing.

  Are you typing your code in properly?

  This isn’t funny, Mahran. Unlock the door.

  I’m trying! I don’t understand. It looks fine from this end.

  Separated by just a few hundred milliseconds, two voices came suddenly to her attention.

  “Master Floreina!” shouted a slave, pointing frantically down the hall toward the hatch along the side of the corridor.

  Behind you! Mahran communicated simultaneously,

  And she turned in time to see the hatch along the side wall sealing shut after being open for only a moment. Her scanning systems picked up a tiny motion and played for her an instant replay in the corner of her vision, zooming in on the object as it was
tossed into the hallway. She focused on it, even as she pushed the slaves nearby to see between them. The recording ran several passes of enhancement and recognized the object as another grenade.

  She could not identify the type or timing, but was able to determine that it was much smaller than the previous one.

  She yelled at the nearest slave with the intention of ordering him to kick it as she had the explosive in the cargo bay. But before she could finish her statement, a flash sent her vision dark as her safety system shut down her vision and snapped her eyes shut in response to the blinding light.

  A wave flowed through her body, the pores of her flesh shifting in and out. Floreina staggered, feeling light, as though she didn’t really need her legs, but knowing somehow that she did. She focused on putting her feet down as she opened her eyes and allowed her visuals to fade slowly back into place.

  She continued stumbling, stepping backwards, grasping the nearby slaves for support. Finally she caught herself and looked out to see smoke rising in great, suffocating plumes from the spot on the floor.

  It was like a volcano in the distance, and as she stabilized she gazed as though it were simply a sight to behold on some abstract visual plane.

  Her medical implant was doing something… she could tell… injections… of some kind…

  I need to get out of here, she told herself, staggering away from the explosion. She turned up toward the hatch, and seemed to float to it, her feet carrying her automatically, but realized she probably couldn’t get through. She turned back toward the other exits, but saw the plumes of smoke filling the passage and stopped, suddenly begging her implant for assistance… a tactical readout… a direction…

  …just tell me what to do…

  And the slaves began lying down to go to sleep… one by one… or perhaps all at the same time; she couldn’t tell the difference… they lay down around her to sleep on the floor… having decided this was a good time for a nap, not bothering to tell their master because they thought she was all-knowing and didn’t need to be told…

  Master! she heard a familiar voice from far away.

  She mumbled, trying to form words, but comprehending only nonsense, and hearing nothing. Pulling the words from her mouth to the back of her head, she tried to form them to talk to the person in her imagination.

  Master! Get to the far door, now!

  She saw visuals; a bright green continuous flash, unnatural and overlapping all other vision.

  …follow the glow…

  The systems would offer guidance… her only hope at this point. The machine in her head and the voice from far away…

  She saw the bodies below… the sleeping Minmatar… as the computer guided her between them, still staggering and faltering despite the assistance.

  She pushed past the plumes of smoke, seeming to weave and wander across her path, and moved beyond the Minmatar bodies. She stumbled toward the hatch, seeing nothing but the smoke and the green highlighted outline.

  And Floreina lost herself in the waves of sensation and computations. Her existence drifted and distorted, expanding and contracting into a confused mass of perception. And she touched the Lord, and felt Him carrying her forward, and twisted into Him and they melted together…

  Had she simply been a part of Him this entire time… just a fragment of His existence, floating through time and space?

  Or did she exist as the computations in the circuits of her mind? Perhaps that was truly who she was… the mechanics that guided her… giving her all her potential… maybe she was just an experiment by the computer in a new form of thought…

  Or was she someone else entirely… standing in the kitchen next to an open door, her long flowery sundress flapping gently in the breeze as she mixed fruit and sugar-cream into little cups and sprinkled them with cinnamon.

  And children ran around outside, screaming in high-pitched laughter, suffocating the music. Their screams pierced her eardrums, but were somehow soothing, like the never-ending pounding rhythm of a dance club.

  She would be happy in the grass and sun, among children and trees…

  …but, somehow, no more, and no less than in the life she already knew.

  Just before picking up the tray of desserts, she felt children below her, tugging at her dress, wanting a taste of the treats.

  “No hands allowed”, she told them as she put a dollop of cream on each of their noses. She picked up the tray to head outside as she watched them extending their tongues and shaking their faces.

  And her body hit the cold steel floor of the corridor.

  Her arms fell limp as she thought about the little cups of fruit.

  That was in another life… another world that so easily could have been… with just a few minor tweaks to her path and priorities… it wasn’t better; it wasn’t worse… it was just… different…

  …but that was not the life she had chosen.

  ______ ______ ______

  Dear, Lord, please awaken my master… if you could just help me open her mind… guide my words, Lord… she must awaken… I cannot reach her on my own, Lord…

  Please, Floreina… please don’t leave me…

  The voice from the back of her mind… the voice of her friend… and the voice of God, speaking through her friend…

  The voice flipped a switch… slowly and carefully setting events into motion.

  She saw circuit chips… rows upon rows of them, controlling great machines, giant gears and tiny computers within a great, bottomless warehouse. The machine powered up with a groan… or perhaps it had always been running… the cogs and gears of the universe, ever reliable, massive, precise and beautiful…

  And a cool liquid began to flow over the machine, through its turbines and cables and circuits. At first the water threatened to short-circuit the engine… but as the liquid flowed, the instruments became brighter, faster… more efficient… more purposeful, as though they fed on the liquid… She came to the awareness that the water was part of the incredible mechanism, a fluid contrast to the hard, metallic logic of the gears.

  And together they flowed and clanked in unison, coming together to form their own unique and harmonious creation.

  And the gears brought Floreina slowly from the haze, carrying her liquid form, drop by drop, through the systems, to bond with the circuitry and form a person.

  Master, please awaken…

  The darkness of unconsciousness faded away as the visual darkness remained black.

  Locked in a room with The Great Machine… for her own safety…

  Mahran, she thought, projecting the concept outward, through her mechanics and circuitry as she slowly formed an idea of the meaning of the word.

  Master, came a reply from a familiar voice, …can you communicate?

  I—she started, just as sensations came rushing back, and she felt her body hanging awkwardly, her limbs twisted tight behind her, forming a shape highly unnatural for a human…

  But still she saw only blackness, and felt her body only from a distance, The Great Machine holding her back from her corporeal self… to protect her…

  Master, they’ve captured you… please awaken…

  I’m here, Floreina replied finally.

  They’re carrying you toward an interrogation chamber.

  Hmm… she replied, slowly allowing her comprehension to wrap around the concept. She felt her wrists and ankles behind her, plastic bindings digging painfully into her flesh. She attempted to struggle, but found her commands cut short. The safety systems explained that she should not allow her captors to realize she was awake.

  Her system was probably right. Sometimes people need to be protected from themselves.

  This must be what slaves feel like… to be surrounded by the overwhelming horrors and complexity of New Eden, to see it and experience the emotions of it, and yet still be locked in this warm cocoon of safety and protection, provided by your ever-loving master.

  To have your decisions made for you… and know
that you are safe…

  Master, they have taken many precautions… plastic restraints, silent communications… can you see anything, Master?

  No, she replied.

  Can you hear?

  I don’t think so.

  What can we do? he asked frantically. I don’t know what to do, Master!

  I don’t know, either.

  She focused on her breathing, automated and rhythmic, and began guiding her tactical calculations with her theories on the situation, even as the same systems guided her own thinking.

  They would destroy the connections to her implant first and foremost. They would attach a specially tuned yet very dangerous electrical pulse to her mental socket, frying the implant’s power supply, and shutting down all artificial mental functionality.

  And there was only one way to prepare for such an attack.

  Mahran… buddy… she said as she thought through her decision and pleaded with her tactical systems to reveal another avenue. I need to go now…

  Master…?

  I need to shut down my internal computer… I think this might be it for me.

  Master, no… please don’t tell me that…

  I don’t think there’s any other way…

  Can you turn it back on if you escape…

  I would need a proper replacement battery… then thirty minutes for the boot up process…

  She paused as she began the shutdown routines. Applications ended their processing, and one by one began saving vital data to her secured permanent drive. Sadness overcame her, as if she were, out of grave necessity, slicing the throat of a friend.

  Master, please! There must be something. You told me this plan was foolproof!

  Oh… She paused. That’s just an expression, Son… And if there’s a way out of this, Little Buddy, I don’t have any time to think of it now… I’m going to be going offline in about thirty seconds and you’ll be on your own. If there’s anything you can think of to get me out of this, then go ahead and give it a shot, but if you fail, Mahran… don’t worry; you’ve done everything I could have hoped for; you’ve served me well, and you’ve served our Lord and you have nothing to be ashamed of. I’m in this mess because of my own mistakes.