Atlantia Series 1: Survivor (16 page)

She watched him for a moment, and then closed her eyes again and turned her head back toward the sunlight.

‘So this is why Qayin wanted to escape to the Atlantia so much,’ she said. ‘This is what he called the sanctuary.’

Andaim nodded, looking around.

‘The only way to get service officers to work here,’ he replied, ‘is to give them something worthwhile. The sanctuary is the official name. We just call it the garden, as some of it is used to cultivate crops for food and to re–process water supplies.’

Evelyn lay in silence for a while, listening to the falling water and the sound of birds calling in the trees.

‘Did you set the bomb that destroyed the high–security wing?’ Andaim asked abruptly.

‘There was a bomb?’ she asked, sitting up.

‘You didn’t know?’

‘I heard Qayin say that there was a blast,’ she replied, ‘but I didn’t know for sure it was deliberate. When I first awoke I was in the escape capsule and the high–security wing was already destroyed. There were other survivors but the Atlantia opened fire on them.’

‘So we heard,’ Andaim said, ‘and you killed at least one of them. We found his corpse in that storage unit.’

‘It was him or me,’ she said. ‘I don’t want to talk about it.’

‘Well you’re going to have to talk about something, because right now half the civilians are up in arms screaming about how they’ve been thrown out of the sanctuary in favour of a convicted murderer. We don’t even know for sure if one of them didn’t cause the blast on purpose, and the Word could arrive at any moment.’

Evelyn looked up at him, concern etched into her features now. ‘The Word?’

Andaim sighed as he looked at her.

‘The Word cannot have scoured your memory that much,’ he said. ‘You’ve been in stasis so long it may take a while to recall everything. The Word was effectively our government, a legion of micromachines whose collective intelligence exceeded anything that humans could achieve and enabled us to attain technological supremacy over neighbouring species.’ Andaim picked at the grass as he spoke. ‘The Word decided, at some point, that we had become a hinderance to its pursuit of knowledge and power. It broke out, infected mankind and eventually brought about our downfall.’

Evelyn took a moment to digest what Andaim had said. ‘It pursues us, now?’

‘Always,’ Andaim said, ‘forever.’

‘Do we have any defences active?’

Andaim snorted derisively. ‘A handful of Raython fighters, plasma cannons and assorted small arms. The Word could be using any one of the fleet’s cruisers or capital ships to hunt us. We don’t stand much of a chance.’

Evelyn looked at the sanctuary around her for a moment and then made her decision.

‘The prison hull’s fusion core is damaged and exposed,’ she said. ‘If we can retrieve it…’

Andaim’s eyes locked onto hers. ‘How do you know?’

‘Saw it,’ she said, ‘before I re–boarded the hull. It’s spraying energy out into space. It’s no use to us now as propulsion, but as a weapon it could be invaluable.’

‘No use to
us
?’ Andaim echoed with a slight smile.

‘We’re all human,’ she replied.

Andaim thought for a moment. ‘The captain believes that the Word might be aboard the Atlantia, or at the very least somebody sympathetic to its cause. We fear that it might be behind the blast.’

‘You say that the blast that killed the other high–security prisoners was sabotage,’ she pressed. ‘Why not head back there to investigate and quietly pick up the core at the same time? The Word will never know what you’ve done, and nor will anybody else on board.’

‘And if the target of the Word is you?’ Andaim pressed.

Evelyn glared at him. ‘The Word put me in that mask and in that prison,’ she snapped. ‘You want me to show you how I feel about the Word? Take me right to it.’

***

‘It makes sense,’ Andaim insisted.

Captain Sansin sat in his chair, his head resting on his big hands as he stared at the viewing screen that showed the horizon of the planet curving through space before them, a perfect ring of soft blue light against a deep darkness.

‘The fusion core isn’t a weapon,’ he pointed out, ‘and if it’s fractured it could as likely destroy us as the Word.’

‘It could destroy us while it’s hanging off the back of the damned ship!’ Andaim snapped, and then drew himself back, ‘sir.’

‘The prisoners are still trapped over there,’ the captain added. ‘If we remove the fusion core they’ll lose what little power they have. They’ll die within a few short hours.’

Andaim ground his teeth in his jaw but he nodded. ‘I’m aware of that captain. They would have to be housed aboard the Atlantia if this is going to work.’

Andaim saw Hevel and Dhalere emerge onto the bridge, the councillor’s face twisted with outrage once more.

‘Captain,’ Hevel stepped up onto the captain’s platform, his face grim. ‘I have just been informed that the entire civilian population has been ejected from the sanctuary in favour of a convicted murderer. I, and they, would like an explanation.’

‘The civilians will be returned to the sanctuary shortly,’ the captain replied.

‘That’s not what I asked,’ Hevel snapped. ‘Our people are cooped up in the loading bays while Alpha Zero Seven is lounging about in the sanctuary. Do you have the faintest idea what that’s doing to morale and…’

‘To hell with the civilians’ morale!’ Andaim snapped. ‘This is about survival! Perhaps those civilians that you claim to represent might like to volunteer their services in the military now that we’re the last damned human beings in existence?’ Andaim drew closer to Hevel. ‘Perhaps
you
would?’

Hevel lifted his chin. ‘My duty is to the people.’

‘A politician’s duty is always to himself,’ Andaim shot back.

‘Captain?’ Hevel wailed. ‘Have this man arrested and…’

‘Silence!’

The captain’s roar seemed to echo around the bridge. A silence descended in its wake, the only sound the soft beeping of computer terminals. The captain stood up and looked out of the viewing ports at the hull behind them, dragging the crippled prison hull and its trail of flickering debris.

‘We have no choice,’ he said finally. ‘Any weapon, no matter how unstable or dangerous, is better than no weapon at all. The prisoners in our care may be the key to fighting back.’

Hevel gaped at the captain. ‘I don’t believe that I’m hearing this.’

‘Two years ago we would not have believed that we would be the last surviving humans,’ the captain pointed out, ‘but it happened. We cannot risk the future of our species over our prejudice and fear. Even those convicts back there in the prison would likely understand that.’

Dhalere’s quiet voice echoed through the bridge

‘Did they understand that when they ran riot after the blast?’ she asked. ‘Did they understand that when they murdered seventeen correctional officers? Did Qayin understand that when he decapitated Governor Oculin Hayes?’

‘They likely thought that they were in danger of dying,’ Andaim replied. ‘They were right, weren’t they?’

Hevel straightened his jacket. ‘Evacuating the air from the prison hull was the only way to quell the insurgency,’ he snapped. ‘If it had not been done the prisoners would likely have been in control of the ship by now.’

‘Sure,’ Andaim replied. ‘You’re a real hero.’

‘The protocol was sound,’ Dhalere replied for the councillor. ‘Lieutenant, if we don’t maintain at least some of the structure of our society aboard this ship then before we know it there will be nothing but anarchy. We won’t need to worry about the Word finding us, because we’ll already be lost.’

‘We don’t have time for pedantics,’ Idris said. ‘We need all available hands to man this ship: men, women, children, even convicts. If we do not all pull together, we will die together.’

‘Poetic,’ Hevel sneered. ‘And if we release the convicts and they decide not to pull together after all, then we shall still die together, or at least at the hands of criminals who have no interest in preserving our lives or even their own!’

The captain turned and faced Hevel.

‘Your opinion has been noted, councillor,’ he rumbled. ‘I’ll remind you that the bridge of this ship is a military concern, not a political one. If you do not remove yourself from it this instant I’ll have you arrested, and you can then share your opinions and ideas with the cell mates of the prisoners you killed when you ordered Governor Hayes to evacuate the air from the prison cell block.’

Hevel glared at the captain, and then he spun on his heel and stormed off the bridge.

The captain waited until he had gone and then turned to Andaim.

‘How long will it take you to extract that core?’

Andaim shrugged. ‘Evelyn said that it was…’

‘Evelyn?’

‘Alpha Zero Seven, sir,’ Andaim explained. ‘Her name’s Evelyn. She said that the ruptured core was visible from outside the hull. If so, we need only seal it with drones and then extract it whole. Two hours, maybe three?’

‘Can it be controlled?’ the captain asked.

The fusion core was in effect a miniature star encased in a supremely strong container, an enormous quantity of matter compressed to unbelievable densities and capable of burning for literally hundreds of years until the density of the matter decreased sufficiently for the nuclear fusion reaction to cease. With the core ruptured and spraying highly radioactive material out into space, anything that came close to it would be exposed to a ray of energy bearing the unimaginable power of a star.

‘We can shield it with a second core,’ Andaim explained. ‘Have it open upon automated or remote command like a sort of pulse weapon, but it’ll be risky. A hair–line fracture in a core like that could widen and all we’d know about it would be a bright flash of light, then all our problems would be over and the Atlantia would no longer exist.’

Idris thought hard for a moment and then made his decision.

‘Get to it,’ the captain said, ‘and get Evelyn out of the sanctuary. If the civilians can get back inside then it may release some of the pressure down there. I don’t want Hevel whipping them into a frenzy.’

Andaim looked around at the bridge crew. ‘There’s nothing more he can do or say sir.’

The captain smiled grimly.

‘Never, ever think that about a politician, Andaim. They always have something more to say.’

‘Yes they do,’ Dhalere said softly. She had remained behind after Hevel had stormed away. ‘The civilians are afraid and confused. They have been placed in what amounts to prison cells while one of the most feared and reviled prisoners this vessel has ever seen wanders free in the comfort of the sanctuary. Can you blame them for becoming restless and frustrated with where they see the command of this vessel taking them?’

‘That reviled prisoner,’ Andaim snapped, ‘has a name and a history and has already saved lives, and all that after nearly being vaporised by a bomb and then this very ship, under Hevel’s orders. Do you think she would be so reviled were the civilians to learn of that?’

‘I am aware of what she has achieved,’ Dhalere replied, ‘but none the less, she should not be favoured above those who are depending upon what we do for their survival.’

‘Or ours,’ the captain pointed out.

‘And Evelyn?’ Dhalere pressed. ‘Perhaps your heroic murderer could be better put to use working on how to get that fusion core over here? An active role might shed her in a better light than simply locking her away and out of sight.’

‘I thought that such prisoners could not be trusted?’ Andaim challenged.

‘And I thought you advocated for her and for allying ourselves with the convicts?’ Dhalere replied. ‘Isn’t it time she got started and earned her place among us?’

Andaim bit his lip as Dhalere spun on her heel and strode from the bridge.

‘Do it,’ the captain said as she departed. ‘Evelyn saw the damaged core, and it might appease Hevel and his little band.’

‘I’m not in the appeasement business,’ Andaim muttered.

‘Nor am I, for much longer.’

*

Hevel prowled up and down his cabin, the narrow room confining his rage and his ambition.

The captain was a fool, of that he was certain. Hevel could not quite fathom where the sudden anger that he felt had come from, although the sheer frustration of being powerless aboard the Atlantia no doubt fuelled some of his rage. Once a powerful councillor, Hevel had been reduced to a mere cipher over the past couple of years, the Atlantia’s crew disinterested in politicians and easily swayed by the mere mention of rank. He knew that they saw him as a mere irritation, somebody who was tolerated only because of a distorted sense of nostalgia for the old days, when government had mattered, when Hevel had mattered.

The captain would not have dared to bad–mouth him back on Ethera, especially not in front of a ship’s entire command crew. The rage flushed hot through his veins and he thumped the wall. The captain was considering offering some kind of amnesty to common criminals, including his despised brother, Qayin: the idiot was actually extending an olive branch to murderers while pushing Hevel, a life–long servant of the colonies, to one side.

‘Your opinion has been duly noted,’ he uttered to himself.

The buzzer to his quarters beeped softly. ‘Enter!’

The door hissed open and Dhalere walked in. Dhalere was an attractive woman whose entire family had been on Caneeron when it had been overrun by the Word. She used her work to prevent her from thinking about what had happened to them, and thus was always on the move.

‘The civilians are being moved back into the sanctuary,’ she reported. ‘Alpha Zero Seven has been taken to the shuttle bay, presumably for some kind of mission.’

‘The prison hull’s fusion core,’ Hevel said miserably. ‘I think that they’ve got some idea of using it as a weapon.’

Dhalere frowned. ‘Could it work?’

‘Maybe,’ he replied, ‘but it could just as likely destroy us too.’

‘That’s dangerous,’ Dhalere said, ‘although no more dangerous than the Word.’

‘Don’t you start.’

Dhalere slid her arms about his neck and kissed him gently. ‘Difficult times demand difficult measures,’ she said.