Approaching Omega Read online

  “So, what now, boss?”

  “Christ, Em, what do we do?”

  “We always have the powerpacks ...”

  “It’ll be dangerous without safety cables,” Latimer said. “It’d mean going out there and clinging to the wreckage until we made it around to level fourteen.”

  “We gotta do it,” Emecheta said, and the inevitability in his voice sent a surge of dread through Latimer.

  “Okay, fine. Tell the others.”

  While Emecheta turned, Latimer lowered himself towards the exit and peered out.

  There would be plenty of hand-holds around the inside of the wrecked deck, and with the EVA suit’s power-pack pushing them through the vacuum, there should be little danger.

  They would have to be careful, he told himself. Take it easy ...

  He looked up and signalled to Emecheta.

  He powered up his suit and dropped through the hatch. As he fell, the extent of the damage became apparent. It was as if the blast had taken a neat bite from the starship, removing a chunk of what had been level thirteen. No wonder Central had gone down, he thought.

  If the ‘bots and drones managed to get it running efficiently...

  He tried not to follow that line of thought.

  He steered himself along the underside of deck twelve, grabbing hand-holds to steady himself when he came up against the torn and twisted metal. He looked back: one by one the others emerged from the hole in the wreckage, looking in their black and yellow EVA suits like reluctant bees emerging from a hive.

  Latimer stared ahead. He made out a cliff-face of sheered metal perhaps two hundred metres before him. If they could reach that and climb down the face, towards the ripped upper surface of level fourteen, then they might be able to find the entry-hatch of a shaft or an emergency tube and continue their descent.

  He paused, hanging onto what was effectively the ceiling like a fly, and waited for Emecheta and the others to reach him.

  A minute later, he touched helmets with the Nigerian and said: “So far, so good. We’ll head for the wall and climb down, okay?”

  “AOK. Look, down there.” Emecheta pointed to what looked like the hatch of an emergency tube on the surface of the deck below them.

  “We’ll make for that,” Latimer said. “Tell Serena and Jen.”

  Using the directional jets of his suit with care, Latimer eased his way towards the cliff-face and began the descent.

  * * * *

  The first laser strike hit a flange of metal a metre to his left. Latimer started, losing his grip on the cliff-face and drifting, and this in all likelihood saved his life. The second laser strike slashed past him and hit the plane of metal to which he had clung only seconds earlier. He powered up his suit and fell towards the deck below, all caution gone now that he was under fire.

  He hit the jagged surface feet first with an impact that jarred his knees painfully. He looked up. Emecheta was falling towards him, having realised the danger, but the women were still fly-crawling, with occasional short hops, down the cliff-face, seemingly oblivious of the attack.

  Latimer caught Emecheta and held on, looking along the length of the sheered deck towards the source of the fire.

  He made out the trilobite shape of a manufactory ‘droid, five hundred meters away, loosing off a continual hail of laser fire. Emecheta hauled Latimer along the deck and into the cover of a flange of ruptured metal. Latimer held on to a twisted spar, regaining his breath. Emecheta was on his knees behind the flange, aiming along the deck with his rifle. Latimer joined him, bobbing, and brought the butt of his laser to his padded shoulder and fired in the direction of the trilobite.

  Other drones and ‘droids had joined battle, now. They popped up at random from holes and rents in the deck, fired off a quick laser pulse, and disappeared. Emecheta hit the trilobite - it went spinning off into the vacuum of space beyond the gaping hole in the side of the ship, but was soon replaced by another. Latimer accounted for perhaps half a dozen ‘bots, feeling a kick of elation with every strike. But still returning laser fire came from the deck, exploding amid the wreckage around him and Emecheta.

  Then the ‘droids saw the women, still bobbing down the side of the cliff-face, and turned their attention to them.

  Latimer watched, horribly aware of his inability to help, as one of the women released her grip and powered herself through the vacuum towards where he and Emecheta crouched - Li or Renfrew, he could not tell. She was firing her laser as she descended, spraying a dozen bolts at random across the sheared deck.

  Shafts of blinding white light lanced past her, and Latimer thought it only a matter of time before she was hit.

  She came tumbling in at speed, unable to right herself. As she was about to hit the deck, Latimer stood and made a grab for her suit. He caught hold of her bulky leg as she cut her powerpack, then hauled her behind the flange. It was Renfrew, he realised, as he took in her terrified expression behind the faceplate of her helmet.

  Jenny Li was still up there, clinging to the cliff-face as if paralysed with fear.

  As he watched, willing her to move herself and descend to safety, he saw movement in the sheer face of the bulkhead beside her. A hatch opened quickly. If the sight of it hadn’t been so fraught with horror, Latimer might have appreciated the comic aspect of the sudden flapping open of the hatch, for it resembled nothing so much as the door of an ancient cuckoo clock.

  Then something crab-like scuttled out, reached for Jenny Li with a claw, and grabbed her. He saw her EVA suit spasm with fright, and then commence a frantic struggle as the roboid dragged her back towards the hatch.

  On the way in, Li managed to snag the side of the opening with a gloved hand. For a second she held on, and Latimer could only imagine the terror that moved her to resist.

  Then she could hold on no longer. She vanished within the opening and the hatch snapped shut with terrible finality. It was as if the onlookers had been spared, then - but the respite was only short-lived.

  Jenny Li opened radio communication and screamed: “Help me! Somebody please help-”

  Then silence.

  He had a sudden flashback of Jenny Li, childlike in her red bodysuit, and choked down a sob.

  He faced the others, gestured for them to huddle. On their knees, like supplicants, they faced each other and touched helmets.

  “What now?” Latimer said.

  “She’s dead,” Emecheta snapped. His voice sounded tinny.

  Latimer thought about that in the absolute silence that ensued. Then he said: “I don’t think so.”

  Emecheta: “What?”

  “I said, I don’t think they’ll kill her-”

  “So all that fire back then,” Emecheta said, “they weren’t trying to kill us, Ted?”

  “I ... I don’t think they were. They were trying to separate us. And it worked. Think about it. They said they wanted Jenny - so why try to kill her?”

  Emecheta said: “And now they’ve got her ... the firing’s stopped.”

  “Jesus Christ,” Renfrew whispered

  “So,” Latimer said, “what now?”

  Emecheta said: “We go on as before. Down to the core. Burn Central. That’s the only way to save her. The only way to save us, too.”

  Latimer’s wrist-com flashed. He realised that the others were being paged, too. He stared at the screen embedded in the arm of his suit.

  Renfrew said, staring at her own screen: “Christ, it’s Jenny. She’s signalling.”

  Emecheta pulled the softscreen from his sleeve and pasted it to the deck. They knelt, like kids around a board game, as Emecheta jacked the softscreen into his wrist-com.

  Seconds later, a schematic of theDauntless showed on the ‘screen. Emecheta tapped at the key of his wrist-com, and on the schematic of the cross-sectioned decks, a bright light flashed. It was moving.

  “That’s Jenny,” Emecheta said.

  “Where are they taking her?” Renfrew whispered.

  Latimer stared at
the schematic, tried to make sense of the labyrinthine complexity of passages and levels. Then he had it.

  He hit the ‘screen with a gloved forefinger. “There,” he said. “The medical bay. There’s an op room, a theatre.”

  Sure enough, the flashing light was heading in that direction.

  Latimer said: “So ... do we still head for the core, try to blast Central before they start cutting Jenny up?”

  Emecheta hesitated. “Hell... we can’t just leave her, now that she’s signalling ...” He indicated the map, effectively taking command. “We’re here, top of level fourteen. The op room’s back up on level thirteen, what’s left of it - beyond the bulkhead. If we find a hatch around here, access the next service tube via the crawlspace, we can get up to level thirteen and the op room, no problem.”

  “And then?” Latimer asked.

  Emecheta hesitated, then said: “There’s an observation gallery runs around the theatre. Maybe we can get into that, hit ‘em from above.”

  Latimer glanced though his faceplate at Emecheta and Renfrew. They looked frightened, their faces beaded with sweat.

  Renfrew said: “We’ve got to do it, for Jenny. We’ve got to try to save her.”

  Latimer nodded. “We just can’t walk away,” he said in a small voice.

  They regarded the ‘screen again. The flashing signal that was Jenny Li had reached the operating theatre.

  “Okay,” Emecheta said. “Let’s do it.”

  * * * *

  Nine

  The Nigerian looked around the deck and indicated a hatch. “There. Wait till I reach it and get inside, then follow me, okay?”

  Latimer nodded. He watched as Emecheta flattened himself against the surface of the deck and squirmed across to the hatch like a sniper. He reached it, entered the code, and then pulled himself head-first inside.

  Latimer turned to Renfrew. “Now you.”

  She hit the deck and crawled, gained the hatch and poured herself through the narrow aperture. Latimer looked back over the flange. He saw no sign of movement.

  He left the cover of the flange and crawled towards the hatch. Renfrew was waiting just within its neck, and when he reached the lock, she pulled him in and slammed the cover shut behind him.

  They were in a dusty crawlspace perhaps a metre high. The erratic illumination of dim glow-tubes every three metres showed a layer of pipes and wires sandwiched between the metal plating. Emecheta was already leading the way, flat on his belly, dragging himself along on his elbows. Renfrew followed and Latimer brought up the rear.

  Would the AIs second-guess their attempt to rescue their colleague, he wondered? Would they have guards posted around the op room? He tried to shut out the thought.

  Up ahead, Renfrew had halted. Beyond her, Emecheta was opening a service hatch. He did so with extreme care, Latimer saw, and peered through. A second later, he turned awkwardly in the confines of the crawlspace and gave the thumbs up. He vanished through the hatch, followed by Renfrew.

  Latimer came last, his breathing ragged.

  They were in a lighted corridor, eerily empty and silent. Emecheta consulted the softscreen and gestured ahead. They followed him to a hatch set flush with the wall. He opened it and stepped through. Latimer looked up and down the length of the corridor, expecting at any second to see a cyborg turn the corner and fire at them.

  Renfrew snagged her suit on the opening, backed out and tried again.

  Latimer sweated, willing her to hurry.

  She squeezed herself through the hatch, lodged a booted foot on the lowest rung of the ladder and began climbing. Almost crying out in relief, Latimer hauled himself through the gap, closed the hatch behind him and climbed.

  The ascent seemed to last an age, allowing Latimer time to dwell on the task that lay ahead. How feasible was it that they might effect the rescue of Jenny Li? What chance did they have, attempting to storm the no doubt heavily-guarded op room? The AIs wanted Jenny Li for a purpose, and they would not give up their prize without a fight.

  But there was no alternative, he told himself. For Jenny’s sake, they had to attempt to save her.

  Renfrew stopped, and Latimer butted her boots with his helmet.

  Above them, Emecheta was slowly opening the hatch. He peered out, pulled back his head and signalled AOK back to them. He opened the hatch fully and stepped out. By the time Latimer reached the opening and eased himself through, he realised that he was shaking uncontrollably and sweating so much that the fluid had pooled in his boots.

  They were in another empty corridor, and it seemed to him that the very emptiness, the silence, was ominous. They know we’re here, he thought. They’re waiting for us.

  Leading the way, Emecheta crept along the corridor, laser at the ready. Latimer undipped his own weapon and levelled it at imaginary foes.

  From his recollection of the schematic, Latimer guessed that they were very near the theatre now. Around the next bend was a pair of double doors that gave access to the surgical unit.

  Emecheta paused, staring at that section of the softscreen wrapped about his forearm. He touched helmets with the others. “There’s a service hatch around the corner,” he whispered. “We get into it and climb. It gives on to the gallery. Ready your lasers. Okay, after me ...”

  He crept forward, peered around the corner. He gestured at them to follow. Latimer looked over his shoulder, jumpy. He raised his laser as he followed Renfrew around the bend. Emecheta was entering the code into the hatch. Renfrew was covering the corridor ahead. Latimer turned and raised his weapon, covering their backs.

  He felt a tap on his shoulder, and turned to see Renfrew disappear through the opening. He squeezed in after her, quickly closed the hatch behind him, and let out a long breath.

  He gathered himself and climbed.

  Minutes later Renfrew came to a halt above him. Latimer peered up, past her bulky suit, and watched, his heart thudding painfully, as Emecheta cracked a hatch and squinted through. He closed it immediately and looked down at them, shaking his over-sized helmet in an exaggerated negative.

  So the AIs had the gallery covered ...

  Emecheta gestured for them to continue their ascent.

  Latimer climbed. If the gallery was guarded, then what chance did they have of rescuing Li? They could dive in with all lasers blazing, but there were only three of them, against how many AIs and cyborgs?

  So where was Emecheta taking them now?

  Above him, the Nigerian was opening yet another hatch. He crawled through, Renfrew after him. Latimer followed and found himself in another cramped and dusty crawlspace. They were on all fours, facing each other. They banged helmets.

  Emecheta said: “The gallery was crawling with the bastards.”

  “Was Jenny in the op room?” Renfrew asked.

  “Couldn’t see over the rail. I’d guess she was, by now. Anyway, they have the place guarded, as if they were expecting us.”

  “So what now?” Latimer asked.

  Emecheta gestured along the crawlspace. “There’s an inspection cover further along here. We might be able to see what’s going on, see if we have any chance of ...”

  He let the sentence drift, then turned awkwardly and crawled into the dimness. He came to a halt seconds later and gestured to a panel in the floor of the crawlspace.

  Delicately, taking great care, he slid it aside.

  A block of light filled the crawlspace, and all three peered through.

  * * * *

  They were high above the operating theatre, looking down from the ceiling. The blindingly white chamber was packed with cyborgs and AIs and a host of medico-roboids.

  They were gathered around an operating frame, suspended in which was a naked Jenny Li.

  Around the periphery of the chamber, a dozen armed cyborgs stood guard.

  Emecheta slid the hatch across the opening, so that only a thin strip gave view of the horrors taking place below. All three lay on their bellies, applying their faceplates to the st
rip, and stared down.

  They were, it appeared, too late to save Jenny from the depredations of the AIs. She was trapped in the suspension frame like a fly in a web; the frame resembled a gyroscope, movable to give surgeons free and easy access to their patient.

  They had opened Jenny Li’s back, revealing ribs and spine, and were busy implanting jacks down the length of her vertebrae. A dozen roboids swarmed around her trapped body, dipping into her with drills and scalpels, as fast and precise as industrial robots manufacturing a piece of machinery. Blood dripped onto the white tiles, the contrast garish.