Chapter 13
Unknown
DATE:
7088.??.??,
RECON
ERA
Various Locations
UNKNOWN,
UNKNOWN
“Statement.
Discussion required.”
I
stiffened, turning
around. I was in the cockpit, the star field expanding on all sides.
Forty-Five
stood tall over me. He dominated my vision.
“What
discussion?” I asked, confused.
He was
larger than I remembered, not helped by the fact he was hanging
on to handles on the ceiling, his
grip making a metallic grinding sound. Handles that were usually
too high for me to
reach, so I never paid them any mind.
He
ducked his
head to look me in the face, his
visor dark and deep.
“Four
Five Responsive Nought
Neuraliser might have some things to say regarding
client behaviour.”
I swallowed
nervously, taking a couple of steps back, making sure I didn’t
overshoot and fall in the void. I wanted to defuse the situation. But
settled on changing the topic. My head was swimming.
“Speaking
in the third person is really overrated.” I
babbled. “I
could…install a first-person reference for your, umm.”
I found
myself in his palm, now larger than the ship.
“Statement.
I am
quite capable of speaking in first person and changing my modulation
when the situation requires it. Client
has done enough damage with ‘Demon Patch’.”
His
voice did not change from the usual monotone, robotic stutter I was
so used to at this point. But the change in speaking style did give
me goosebumps and my heart leaped in my throat. I started to sweat.
“You… remembered the Demon Patch?”
My voice shook a little, though I couldn’t help it. I thought back
to something an old friend, Jessica,
used to warn me about when they found out I dug around old bots on
the regular.
‘You
know those robots can act out if you're not careful, they
could
glitch
out,
and you could die.’
Maybe the
situation wasn’t quite so different. Perhaps something changed in
the programming when I… tried
to help. Death
by robot was an occupational hazard, but this… felt different.
I couldn’t put my finger on how it was
different.
“Observation.
My systems have recorded a consistent decline in your safety metrics,
indicating a repeated disregard for your own continued
survival.”
I wasn’t
in his hand anymore.
I
was standing in the middle of the street back on Kelara. He
stood behind me in front of the stairs to Ali’s apartment.
“First,
you ignored my recommendation for an immediate departure from a
high-threat environment.”
I was
floating out in space, Forty-Five looming off in the distance. I was
surrounded by rubbish.
“Second,
you deactivated
your
proximity sensors and alert systems. This led to a near-collision
with a
debris
field.”
I
tried to swim
away in shame, trying
to get back to either the planet below us or the ship I could see in
the distance. My
cheeks burned
as I felt increasingly like I got caught with the bat, the ball, and
the broken vase.
But
I was back face to face with him, he was pushing down on the bed over
me. He
wouldn’t let me escape his
gaze. He
kept
going.
“Third,
you consciously and intentionally picked an in-system route that cut
across several high-risk collision zones, instead of using the
designated
hyper
freeway.”
I was
feeling nauseous, I knew I was laying down and on my back but I still
felt like I was swimming in zero-g. Cold, metal fingers gripped my
chin, making sure I didn’t look away.
“Fourth,
the extent of the undocumented changes to the Vario
XT Surveyor has compromised the critical functions for the ship which
has increased your potential fatality by 47%.”
He leaned
in closer, whispering in my ear. But he wasn’t Forty-Five anymore.
He was human.
“And
finally.”
A
cold, condescending tone sent
chills
down my spine. “You managed to get some really nice specimens for
me. Good girl.”
A hand
firmed down over my mouth, muffling my screams. I thrashed, the man
pulled back.
Black,
side-combed
hair.
Pale skin.
Wide green
eyes.
A blinding
smile pulled back too far.
I struggled
even harder, trying to push him off. I kicked with my legs.
The
weight disappeared, and
I took a deep breath in.
I was lying on the remains of a transport.
Giant
gouges in the hull let me see the horizon, a red sun dipping low on
an orange landscape. Dry and arid. The hot breeze ruffled my hair.
I looked
around, sitting up.
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“Melissa!”
Mama’s voice. I violently jerked back, my head snapping back.
There she
stood, next to my father’s large form. They were both taller than
average, my father’s shoulders wide and powerful.
Mama had
her arms out to me, coming closer to me. She helped me up, and when I
looked around the transport was whole again.
She
tutted as she
ran her
hand absentmindedly through
my hair. It resembled hers so much. I leaned into it, smiling as she
pulled through a series of knots in the tight curls. She
twisted my head gently to look at the mess. “I wish Jim had given
us more time to get you ready.”
I
wrapped my arms around her. She
was colder and skinnier than I remembered but she smelled like engine
grease and coolant. I smiled, she smelled like home.
“He said
he didn’t want the reporters to know. I can’t say I disagree.”
I pulled away, reaching down to get my SlimDeck, my thin tablet I
used for recreation and entertainment.
Father was
next to us, his arms crossed and looking grumpy. As usual. “But why
detour on Reunov? If the venue is on the Eir Station, then why…?”
I shrugged,
my hands rummaging around, not able to find my bag for some reason. I
frowned, trying to remember the convincing logic Jim had used to get
us on this transport. But that didn’t matter, I had to tell them.
This was my chance.
“I don’t…
remember. But I wanted a chance to talk to you both. I couldn’t
before but… the truth is-”
A
sudden jerk of the whole transport threw me sideways. A sudden
explosion of pain on the side of my head cut off my scream and sent
the world into a void.
I opened my
eyes, alarms blaring and red lights flashing.
Large gouges in the hulls revealed the horizon and
part of the canyon walls.
My head was
resting on a bed of glass.
There was a
smell of sewage, of excrement and urine. There was something metallic
in the air too that coated the back of my throat. Blood. And
something else.
I turned
around, feeling sluggish and heavy. My hand slipped, the floor wet,
when I tried to sit.
I looked
down and saw tubes.
My eyes
widened in horror. I needed to fix it. Those tubes could have
chemicals or toxic gases.
I need to fix them. I can fix it.
I reached
down.
I had them
wrapped in my hands when the shadows moved.
People.
They wore
slick, yellow rubber suits. Faceless behind white visors.
One of them grabbed my jaw, turning my face left, then
right.
"Lifex
host is in shock," a voice distorted by static said. "Liver
and kidneys viable. Heart rate strong. Stomach and intestines
damaged. His intel was good."
The other
one shoved my hands away from the tubes.
"Don't
pull on the merchandise.” They shoved the tubes back inside me.
A violent
tugging on my shoulders as they dragged me out of the wreck.
They threw
me into a crate.
The hiss of
a stasis seal.
Cold.
Darkness.
I woke up
screaming. I scrambled backwards on
the
bed, the cold alloy metal of
the wall against my
back doing nothing but ratchet up my fear.
Everything
was cold.
Everything
was hot.
I screamed
and screamed, grappling at my stomach.
A figure
was
in front of me, but
then they disappeared, rabbiting away. As if my sudden screaming
scared them off.
Lights
flooded the room, it was all too bright. A
larger figure appeared in the doorway, my vision was blurred. I
couldn’t focus. I couldn’t see.
My
screaming settled into body shaking sobs, tears streaming down my
face. My arms went to cover my head, but strong hands stopped me.
“Melissa.”
The
word rumbled out, a heavy bass note that vibrated through the air
and into my spine. It wasn't a request. It was a physical weight that
grounded
me more effectively than his hands.
Forty-Five.
The
scream died in my throat.
I took a deep breath. I couldn’t quite focus on
the room.
Instead, his helmet filled my vision. The
faceplate was a curved mirror of black glass, reflecting the chaotic
spray of my own tears. The twin ring lights burned behind the
surface, two halos of clinical white light that flared with intensity
as his grip tightened.
Above the visor, the helmet swept back in
aggressive, aerodynamic lines. I stared at the interlocking plates of
the cranial casing—thick, ablative armour designed to survive the
inferno of atmospheric re-entry. It was a shell built for war,
impenetrable and absolute.
And it was staring right at me.
It was beautiful. The lines drawing my eye and
bringing me back to the confines of mother’s laboratory. Home.
My ragged breathing eased, my arms relaxed.
“It’s
you,” I whispered. For
a moment, I wasn’t sure where I was. I felt sick. I
couldn’t
bring myself to look away from his visor. The ring light anchoring me
in place. “Where
are
we?
What’s going on? Why-?”
“You stabilised two hours ago.”
Forty-Five
kept a firm grip on my arms. “You
were
asleep.”
“I
don’t know where I am.” I whispered, straining
my head forward, desperate.
“Don’t
leave me. He sleeps in the void but he wants me. He’s
coming for me. He knows. He
knows.”
“Query. Location of hostile.”
His
voice echoed in my head, but faded into static. My eyes darted to the
corners of the room. The shadows were stretching. They looked like
fingers, attached to people in big rubber suits. I felt like I was
under water, hearing warbled words I couldn’t understand.
A rustle in
the distance.
My head
whipped around like a prey caught in the downwind of a predator.
The
hands on my arms tightened, like the straps they had on Reunov.
Bruising. Keeping me pinned for the surgery.
Forty-Five turned his head, his features blurring at the edges. He
was distracted by something.
I jerked
back, digging my heels into the mattress.
He
doesn’t understand. He's coming.
I twisted
my wrists, ignoring the burn of skin against metal, desperate to
leave. To hide. But the straps didn’t budge. He didn't even strain.
He just held me there, trapped in the open, exposed.
"Let
me go," I mumbled, but it came out in the wrong language.
"Tukuna ahau."
I
clawed at his plating, my nails skidding uselessly over the
armour plates. "Kaua e waiho kia kite ratou i ahau." ‘Don't
let them see me.’
“Ka
kitea ahau e ia. Māna rātou e ārahi ki ahau,” I said with a
trembling lip.
He
ll
lead them to me.’
“Threat
on the ship will be neutralised,” he tried to get me to look back
at him, but I couldn’t, my eyes unfocused at a threat that just
might be there.
“Melissa,”
he commanded, louder this time. But I was staring past him, at the
door. Expecting
to
walk in, pale like the dead, something in
his
hand to either throw or destroy. I was vibrating with the need to
run.
Metal
hands grabbed both sides of my face, putting blinders on my vision.
His visor filled my view again, and I
gripped
his arms, tears
streaking down my face.
I
stared
in the hypnotic white lights, pulling me in. I shrank in on myself.
“He
koreke ahau kei raro i te piringa. E mataku ana ahau.”
‘I am
a quail under the thicket. I am afraid.’
“Ka
tiakina koe e au,” he spoke so softly, I almost missed it.
My eyes
instantly focused on
him, and I forgot to breathe. Father’s tongue. Passed down through
generations of our ancestors from Ancient
Terra.
‘I
will protect you.’
I reached
out and
touched the edge of his
visor.
The smell
of sewage filled my nose.
The rest of
the room narrowed into focus.
I
looked around, finally recognising the
infirmary.
On
my ship. CRSS Reckless.
“Status
report,” he
rumbled quickly, as if noticing a change in my complexion.
Bile rose
up.
I whirled
around, taking aim at a bio-hazards
bin I knew was next to the bed.
It took a minute for the contents of my artificial stomach to empty
itself.
“Status
received,” Forty-Five said softly, having
moved with me and holding me up. He used a foot to bring the bin
closer.
I had
trouble breathing through the retching. Any attempt at a deep breath
through the nose would bring more of the sewage smell and send more
bile up from the depths.
“Breathe
slowly.” Forty-Five moved closer, his
head positioning so he
could see my face. I took a long rattling breath through my mouth
this time, closing my eyes. I breathed out. He
rubbed my back.
“The
smell…” I said weakly. I continued breathing as slowly as I
could, spitting out globs of saliva as I did. He
looked back towards the door, and from this angle I could see his
twin ring lights going red.
“Stay
here,”
came
the authoritative command.
His hand lingered on my shoulder for a fraction of a second too long,
before he pulled away.
