Sons of Abraham: J-17's Trial (8 page)

“Okay, I see ten doors,” he replied. “Four on the right, three straight ahead, three to the left, and none behind us. What’s the diagram showing?”

Sandra counted as he spoke, highlighting the differences.

“Looks like the three straight ahead are new,” she stated. “If this is the room I think it is, then the doorways should only be on opposite sides of one another. Also means one of the doors on the right is new. Should have been three and three.”

“Any guesses to which one of the four?” he asked, trying to look at the pad himself.

“Yeah,” she replied. “To the left of where we came in. I say we check that on the way out.”

“Agreed,” he answered, already heading towards the wall straight ahead from them. “Let’s get to it then.”

The pair stuck to the edge, not wanting to cross over the knee-high cables and braces that littered the floor in the middle. They passed a few doorways in question when something caught the Captain’s ear.

“You hear that?” he whispered, reaching back and holding her still with his free hand.

Sandra looked down, noting that his hand happened to fall right onto her left breast. Luckily, the suit was similar to armor, making it impossible to feel much of the body beneath. Still, the gesture made her uncomfortable. She slapped his hand away from her chest, attempting not to cuss him out for the act.

“No,” she replied. “All I hear is you.”

He turned around, placing one finger to his lips. She closed her mouth and eyes, attempting to find what he was hearing. As her heart rate slowed, a faint humming came from somewhere ahead of them. Her eyes shot open as she shown her light at the wall, trying to determine which of the doors the sound resonated. She lacked his tracking experience, so she simply waited for her boss to make his own decision.

“Middle door,” he claimed.

Quaid turned back to the wall, making straight for the middle door to their left. Sandra shown her light in the doorway he’d chose to ignore, making a mental note of what she saw inside as they passed. With the task completed and set to memory, she turned to watch him enter the middle room.

The doorway led to a long hallway, the walls made of the same metal as the rest of the structure. She guessed that it went on for maybe twenty yards, forcing her to question why anyone would leave so much unused space in such a facility. As they drew nearer to the door at the end of the hall, the humming became more of a constant moan, the sound of machinery working long past its recommended load.

The light from Quaid’s hand showed them the source long before they entered the room. On the far wall, a standing chamber filled with water hummed away. A closer examination revealed that the water was murky, making it impossible to see what was inside. The pair stood a foot away, uncertain of what action to take next.

Julius Quaid reached out with one gloved hand, wiping a thick layer of dust and grease away from the glass surface. The clean streak gave a better view of the water, offering a shape that was darker than the surrounding water.

“Check the sides,” he muttered. “There’s always a switch for the internal lights.”

Sandra let Julius choose which side he wanted, then stepped over a thick black cable and examined the opposite side. There was a circular metal base beneath the water tank, with dozens of darkened buttons resting in rows of three.

“Do we just start pressing buttons?” she asked, counting, at least, twenty-one buttons on her side alone.

Quaid didn’t offer a reply verbally as his fingers had already begun to answer her question. Even over the sound of the motor, she could hear him pressing buttons. She bent over, holding her breath as she tested the upper left button. One by one, she followed the buttons down their rows, pressing each one in turn. She almost screamed when the motor skipped a beat when she pressed the last button on the top row.

“Keep going,” he ordered.

Her fingers started on the second row, pressing each one in turn. She was about to give up when a light flickered several times above her. She jerked away from the tank, thankful that they hadn’t crossed the emergency release button as they randomly tried each one. She had just managed to stand up straight when the light stopped flickering and remained on. She let out a cry as the light offered her a distorted view of what rested inside the murky water.

“Fuck me!” Quaid snapped, taking two steps away from the tank.

The site wasn’t as horrid as she’d expected. She knew what the facility was the moment she showed her light across the main chamber. Her mind told her that the dozen water tanks in the main room had been empty and that the tank before her would be as well. When she’d heard the humming from the tank, she’d expected to find a half rotting corpse inside, given that the facility had been moved almost four hundred years ago. What rested in the tank, however, was as pristine as either she or her boss.

The man in the tank was naked, save for a pair of white trunks that covered his private area. He had no hair on his head, other than two thin lines of black eyebrows. His skin was as pale as skin could get though she wasn’t sure if it was his skin tone or the years in the water, that had made it that way. He was fairly thin as his ribs and muscles jutted out through the pale skin. As odd as the image was to her, it was the man’s eyes that demanded her full attention. Two black squares were embedded in his temples, with two black circular discs attached to them. Each disc covered one eye, keeping her from seeing what lie beneath. Something about the attached glasses, if they were indeed eyewear, which reminded her of something she’d seen long ago.

“What….the…..hell,” Quaid remarked, leaning into the glass. “You said they lost this place in the 2600’s? Then how old is this guy?”

“Why does he look familiar?” she asked, hoping to jog her boss’ memory. “Like from a history book or something.”

Julius Quaid listened to the response, weighing the possibilities. He stroked the thin facial hair on his face, creating a faint vibrating sound that only he could hear given the loud hum of the tank’s motor.

“I have an idea,” he replied, his hand dropping from his face. “Give me your data pad.”

She reached into her thigh pouch, retrieving the pad once more and handed it to his outstretched hand. He took the device without looking, turning it on and holding it up at the same time.

“Facial scan,” he said, enunciating the words.

The pad came to life, a live image of the man in the tank’s face appearing on the screen. A thin blue lined ran up and down the face several times before it disappeared. The screen went blank for several seconds, indicating either that the wireless signal to the ship was getting weak, or that the computer was struggling to find a match.

Unknown.
The word flashed across the screen, semi-transparent over the still image of the sleeping man.

“Check historical photos,” she demanded. “Starting with 2575 to 2675.”

The pad went dark once more, acknowledging her command. They waited for several seconds before they were rewarded for their patience. A picture came across the screen of a bald man wearing a black coat. The man wore the same built-in glasses as the one before them, his head turned to his right as though he were looking away from the camera. Sandra was happy to see the match, but horrified when she saw the accompanying name.

“You are fucking kidding me,” she gasped, grabbing the pad away from his hand. “Search the name for historical significance.”

Thomas Abrams.

The picture was shoved to the upper right corner of the pad as various blocks of text filled the remainder of the screen. She pulled the device closer to her face, reading the fine print of each block one by one. The text confirmed what she’d suspected, justifying her fear.

“We should leave,” she pleaded. “Get what you want, but leave that fucker in the tank, please.”

Julius took the pad away from her, reading the same text as she had done a moment ago. His narrow, brown eyes opened wide as he read, realizing why she wanted to leave so abruptly.

“Let’s not push any more buttons, okay?” he replied, handing the device back to her.

Sandra was to the doorway a moment later, turning to wonder why her boss wasn’t right on her heels. He was just standing there, gawking at the man in the tank.

“Oh come on!” she snapped. “We need to leave, now.”

Quaid looked back to her, a wry smile forming on his narrow lips. She knew what the smile meant, having seen it more times than she’d cared to. Her shoulders slumped as she stepped back into the room.

“Look around you Sandy,” he stated calmly. “No one has been here for what, a few hundred years? I mean look at the guy. He isn’t going anywhere unless we decide he does.”

She looked up at the motionless man in the tank as he fed her the appetizer to the meal he was cooking. This was when the Captain became the salesman, always managing to dupe her into something she knew better than to do. By this point in their working relationship, she’d come to expect nothing less of the man.

“It is rather humbling,” she stammered. “It’s like standing before Einstein or Horvack.”

“Horvack?”

“Environmental scientist from way back,” she replied. “He was the man that convinced the United Nations that the people on Earth shouldn’t bother procreating if they didn’t want to have their children die before reaching adulthood. If it wasn’t for Dr. Horvack, we probably wouldn’t be standing here.”

Quaid looked back at the man in the tank, pondering the weight of his partner’s words. He understood the historical significance of the thing in the tank, but to compare him to the greatest minds of mankind seemed a little deflating.

“Their metaphorical god is floating in a tank of water,” he started. “Why would they just leave him here? Is this some symbolic gesture, like a shrine or something? It's four hundred years old. Had to die ages ago.”

He diverted his fixed gaze, returning his attention to Sandra once more. He stepped over the heavy black cable in the middle of the room, positioning himself with her reach. He sized her up, wondering what thoughts were swimming through that mind of hers. He knew he could simply order her to do as he wanted, but everything went smoother when she was on the same page as he.

“I don’t mean to take it out of the tank,” he stated. “I do mean to say that there is something more valuable than atronium somewhere inside this facility. If we find it, our scavenging days are over. I’ll drop you off on any planet you want, with at least five million credits in your account.”

“Really, five million?” she laughed. “Should have said two million. Might have believed you then.”

He pulled back from her, looking around the room as his mind sought the magical words that would sway her thoughts to his favor. He knew she was worried about her sister, sitting out in the ship all alone. He admitted that he was reaching his limit of how long he felt comfortable with the troublesome teen free to do what she wanted with his ship. She was a good kid, as far as he could tell, but idle hands WERE the devil’s playground.

“You’re not thinking big picture, Sandra,” he replied. “I DO mean five million credits. If this isn’t a shrine, then it’s the station where the second generation Cybers was created. You know the military keeps that recipe locked away back on Earth. Can you imagine how many scientist would pay a fortune to get their hands on the blueprints for second generation Cybers?”

She hated to admit when he was right, but it was hard to ignore the logic he was selling her. Third generation Cybers was lacking all the traits that made them human. Somewhere in the process, science had lost the ability to make Cybers enhanced people, rather than obeying machines. Everyone knew there were various groups around the galaxy, all wanting the enhanced calculating capability and reflexes that the second generation Cybers possessed, all while holding on to the bits of the personality they owned before the process. The military claimed that the process for second generation was flawed, causing subjects to lose their minds just a few years after the procedure. Quaid was right. Even if the technology were flawed, someone would still be willing to pay embarrassing amounts of wealth to obtain the schematics.

“That’d be hard to pass up,” she admitted, looking around the room. “I saw a wall of computers in that first door we passed up. Maybe we should start there?”

Quaid smiled, moving next to her and draping his arm over her armored shoulders. Together, they looked at the floating man in the tank of water, wondering things like who was the one to place the man within his watery tomb. It was a question Sandra suspected she would never find an answer to as she pulled away from the Captain’s arm. In another time and place, she may have found herself attracted to his confidence, good looks, and ability to make money. Given the situation, however, she preferred to keep the relationship professional at all times.

“Yeah, didn’t think that through,” he stated as he followed her down the long hallway.

The light from the tank of water managed to light up half of the room but did nothing for the long hallway that led back to the main chamber. They both turned their lights back on, walking in silence as they both tried not to think of what five million credits could buy.