The Darwin Elevator (47 page)

I’ve died,
he thought.
It’s not so bad
.

Then the images fell away from him. He floated, then flew, upward, thrown by some unseen force until he shot above the glowing hole. The iris snapped shut again below him and he fell to it.

With a skull-shaking thud he collapsed on to the cold, hard surface. A corner of his mind registered the fine angular patterns seemingly etched into the surface. Interlaced lines of varying depth, like veins in a leaf if not for their perfect straight lines and right-angle corners. Then his vision blurred, mind once again wallowed in a confused swarm of pain from the impact.

Skyler rolled onto his stomach and pushed himself to his feet. Everything swam and skewed in front of him. He blinked, rubbed at his eyes. Not dead after all.

Reality began to assert itself. Slowly his vision returned to normal. He stood on the alien floor, the iris closed tight at his feet. The stairwell ended on the wall of the access shaft, a meter above him.

The humming sound had vanished.

In fact, Skyler could hear nothing but his own breathing and the occasional twang of vibration that rippled along the Elevator cord.

In a sudden panic Skyler whirled around, checking behind him, then left and right, for the subhuman. But he was utterly alone.

She’d vanished. Pulled in and consumed by the Aura generator.

But not me,
he thought.
It rejected me. As if I didn’t … fit.

Chapter Thirty-nine

Anchor Station

12.FEB.2283

Ten minutes into Tania’s jog through the quiet, curved hall of Black Level, the emergency alarm wailed.

The pulsing screech of the alarm ripped her from a hard-won state of meditation. She took an awkward step, and tripped. Her palms burned on the carpet as she tried to break her fall.

“Can I get no peace?” she muttered to herself.

She saw no smoke in either direction, felt no rush of escaping air. No immediate danger, then, and the revelation only increased a sense of dread. Memories of the subhuman outbreak weeks earlier flashed through her mind.

She scanned the curving hallway and spotted an access corridor to Gray Level nearby. A quick run and she reached it, and found the connecting bulkheads still open. Interlevel access would be blocked during decompression or fire. A security situation, however, required the opposite—the guards on duty needed unfettered access.

All the official guards were locked in their quarters, except a few who had been convincing in their willingness to join the Platz side in this conflict.

Tania turned and raced back to her quarters. A few other researchers were poking their heads from darkened rooms, eyes bleary and confused. She ignored their questions and reached her door, where she found Natalie knocking on it.

“There you are,” Natalie said. “What’s going on?”

“I’ve no idea, let’s find out.” Tania unlocked the door and rushed inside, leaving it open behind her. Natalie followed her in.

The terminal on the desk chirped loudly before Tania even reached it. She flicked the monitor on as she sat down, then tapped the keyboard to answer the call.

“I’m here,” she said.

From the other end of the connection she heard shouting, confusion. Battle. The screen indicated the call was originating from the storage area on Red Level, all the way at the other end of the station.

“… through the airlocks …” A garbled voice was full of panic. “… can’t stop …”

“Slow down,” Tania said. “I can’t understand you.”

She heard a series of shouts and rustling, then a loud click. The connection went dead.

The alarm stopped, too.

Tania tried to reestablish the connection, but it failed with an error. She tried the security desk to no avail.

“Fighting … my God, Nat, there’s fighting.”

“We’re mutineers,” Natalie said. “What did you expect—”

“I never wanted anyone to get hurt.”

“The feeling is mutual, hon.”

The room fell silent as Tania struggled to think of a plan. She felt Natalie’s expectant gaze. Everyone on the station would be thinking the same thing, awaiting her orders. Watching how she handled herself. Pinning their hopes on her. For better or worse, Tania had become the leader of their little rogue nation.

Tania thought of the island of Hawaii, trees and birds and insects. Not the hell they’d landed in, but the idyllic version she’d glimpsed from above. She’d give anything to be there, far from this sterile place, this situation—

“We should get to Green Level,” Natalie said. Her steady voice like the tug of gravity.

“Yes,” Tania said. “You’re right. The comm is dead. We should find Karl—”

“No.” Natalie gripped her shoulder. “The lab. We need to suspend our program. Encrypt the data. Secure it.”

“Then what?”

“Hide somewhere. Wait for this to be resolved.”

Tania shook her head. “That would look great on my leadership résumé.”

“‘Strong aptitude in avoidance and stealth techniques.’”

“Very funny,” Tania said.

Tania led the way, creeping along the wall, eyes glued to the “horizon” of the hall, which curved up and out of view about one hundred meters ahead. They encountered nothing but silent halls along the way, a fact that made Tania all the more concerned.

Upon reaching the door to the computer lab, Natalie stepped ahead of her, key card ready. “I’ve got it,” she said. The door clicked open and she stepped aside.

Tania pushed the door open to a dark room, allowing light from the door to spill in. A thousand blinking pin lights from the numerous terminals floated in the blackness like stars. She rushed inside and heard Natalie follow.

At the back of the lab she ducked inside the private research room, went straight to the terminal, and unlocked the screen with her passphrase.

The monitors began to come to life.

“I left the hall door open,” Natalie said, and dashed back toward the front entrance. “Be right back!”

Tania started to tell her not to bother, but everything about their situation vanished from her mind when the giant displays on the wall came to life.

The day before they’d determined that the Builders’ ship would arrive imminently, and after some difficult math and a clever bit of programming by Natalie, pinpointed where they thought it would settle into geosynchronous orbit.

Tania had worked late, long after a droopy-eyed Natalie had retired. She’d tapped into an old Platz-owned mapping satellite, overridden its routine task, and directed it to the opposite side of the planet. Borrowing some pattern recognition code from one of Natalie’s brilliant scripts, Tania had instructed it to watch for the new shell ship and relay a video feed back to her.

The image brought a smile to her face. “Nat,” she whispered. “We were right. We did it …”

A shell ship like the first, perched high above the Earth. Tania squinted, and covered he mouth to stifle a gratified laugh.

At the tip of the shell ship, sunlight glinted off the thin thread of an Elevator cord.

Another space elevator
, Tania thought.
A new one. A fresh start
. She saw no sign of the other, smaller objects, but that was a problem for another day. Clearly they’d sent no invasion fleet, no doomsday device.

She realized tears were streaming down her face.

“Come see, Nat!” Tania shouted.

Her assistant had been gone too long. Scouting the hall, maybe. Or—

“Hello, Miss Sharma,” a man said, behind her. “Come see what?”

She didn’t recognize the voice. It meant trouble, that much she knew. Tania’s precautions for working in secret paid off as she tapped a single function key. A script she’d created immediately blanked the screens and began to encrypt and hide all the data.

“Oh,” the man said, “you shouldn’t have done that. Step away from there.”

Tania turned to face him and took a step to her right. “It was just a simulation,” she tried.

The man had a gun pointed at her and held Natalie by her elbow. Nat’s eyes were firmly on the now-blank screens. She’d seen the image; she knew what the Builders had sent.

A half dozen other people in the room all wore black uniforms and carried weapons.

“Who are you?” Tania asked. “What do you want here?”

He walked casually to stand in front of her, and she tried to muster a defiant glare. “I’m told you’re in charge here,” he said.

Tania’s nostrils flared. She kept her jaw firm, said nothing.

“I was just about to get on the intercom,” the man said, “and invite you down. Thanks for saving me the wait.”

“What do you want?”

He ignored the question and shifted his attention to Natalie. “Who are you, sweetheart?”

“Natalie Ammon.”

“Ah yes,” he said, “Alex sends his regards.”

“Tell that pig to piss off,” Natalie replied.

“What—” Tania started. She stopped herself, realizing who stood in front of her. Russell Blackfield. Tania had not met him during her detention in Nightcliff, but she had no doubt he had either ordered or knowingly allowed her treatment there.

Natalie’s comment flustered him for the briefest of seconds. “I’ll relay your message,” he said, rather lamely to Tania’s ear.

“Leave her out of this,” Tania said. “What do you want from me?”

He maintained eye contact with Natalie for a moment, sizing her up, then turned his focus on Tania.

“Two things,” Russell said. “First, I’d like you to get on that intercom and tell the station that I am now in control. Your laughable security ‘force’ has been relieved.”

Tania swallowed. “And second?”

Russell smiled. “You’re going to tell me all about the research you’ve been doing for Platz. I hear it’s fascinating.”

Chapter Forty

Platz Station

12.FEB.2283

Neil took a deep breath.

On the monitor in front of him, a sea of hostile soldiers rushed through the elegant hallways of Platz Station, his home.

Time would soon run out.

His gaze flicked yet again to the console at his left. Tania had not reported in, or responded to calls, for hours. The screen remained idle.

“Bloody hell,” he said to no one.

A decision must be made. Never in his adult life had he struggled so hard to make one.

The soldiers were close now, past the halfway mark, cutting through closed airlock doors with reckless abandon.

If only he had more time. If only she’d called in. Silently he mouthed a prayer, hoping her control of Anchor Station remained steadfast.

Zane appeared at the door, impatience plain in his expression. “Everyone’s waiting,” he said. “There’s no more time.”

Neil weighed his options as Zane strolled over and stood behind him, leaning in to study the security feeds. Gateway soldiers swarmed through the evacuated hallways on levels three and four.

“They’re nearly here, Neil,” Zane said, somehow calm. Always so steady. “I don’t know why you’re waiting, the station is lost …”

Neil Platz pushed himself to his feet. He’d done everything he could, made all the preparations right down to the last detail. He’d given all the orders, provided all the plans.

Except one. The most important one.

Tania still needed a critical set of codes. Codes that Neil could not risk falling into Alex Warthen’s hands. Or anyone else’s, for that matter. If something had gone wrong on Anchor, their full plan compromised …

Better not to risk it. In a few hours he and his staff would arrive at Hab-8, and he could try to reach Tania again from there.

“All right. Let’s go,” he said.

He let Zane lead the way, watching him practically jog toward the lift. Neil allowed himself to fall behind, to walk alone through the grand hallway that led from his office all the way to the main lift on the opposite side of the ring. He soaked in the design of it, all built to his specifications. Carpet of rich burgundy contrasted by walls the color of sand.

The station, almost seventeen years old now, had become as comfortable as his old estate in Nightcliff. More so, perhaps, though he did miss the smell of salty air. The breeze, the pounding rains that cleansed everything. Days long gone.

A vision came to him, unbidden. The elder Dr. Sharma, Prathima, sitting on the sun deck between Neil and Sandeep, bouncing baby Tania on her knees. They all chuckled at the infant’s delight.

Prathima. A striking woman, only to be eclipsed by her daughter. She’d gone to her early grave never knowing that her husband had died, or how.
Better that way
.

And little Tania. Her mop of black hair standing straight up, ever curious, eyes bright and wide even then. Laughing with a mixture of fear and delight as her mother bounced her ever higher, Neil and Sandeep egging her on.

Neil smiled to himself. He felt tears begin to well.

“Zane,” he called out. His brother had disappeared beyond the curve of the hall. “Go on ahead, start the launch procedure.”

He heard his brother’s voice, distant. “What?”

“I forgot something,” Neil called out. “Won’t be a moment—”

A jet of steam rushed through a pair of doors ten meters ahead. The hot air screamed so loud Neil could barely hear the cutting torch underneath.

Too late,
he thought.
I waited too long
.

Neil spun around and bolted toward his office. The sounds of booted feet filled the space behind him. Someone shouted. Zane? No time to find out.

He burst through the heavy oak door of his office, beating a path straight to his desk.

More shouts from outside, close. He needed time.

He moved back to the door and chanced a look into the hallway beyond. Four black-clad soldiers moved cautiously toward him, visible from foot to waist as they approached along the curved floor. Soon he saw their guns, sweeping every vantage point. He found himself transfixed, the almost alien feeling of fear gripping him.

One of the guards aimed, and Neil ducked back into the room at the same moment, sensing the action. The bullet hissed past his head, burying itself with a low
thud
in the back wall of the office.