ATLAS 2 (ATLAS Series Book 2) (22 page)

I felt the Gs then. I was positioned so that most of the force bore down on my lower back, but I hardly felt a thing.

Gotta love morphine.

In fact, I was barely awake by that point.

“How are you back there, Rage?” Bender said.

“Heavenly,” I murmured. I had a sudden, urgent thought. “Check the brain case. Gotta check the brain case.” I wanted to make sure no Phants sneaked on board via the ATLAS 5s or any other machines after we docked.

“Sure thing, Rage,” Bender said.

I don’t think Bender understood me, but I didn’t have the energy or clearheadedness to explain it to him.

I must have passed out, because the next thing I knew, we were floating in high orbit above the curved horizon of the moon. The beautiful blue clouds of the gas giant swallowed the heavens beyond. Everything was dead quiet.

My suit integrity remained stable at one hundred percent.

The rockets let off one final burn, and then the boosters broke away from the mech.

Bender fired the ATLAS 5’s jetpack in controlled bursts.

On my HUD map, I observed a distant green dot ahead of our position, labeled
Gerald R. Ford
.

I shifted slightly, feeling a different kind of nausea now, caused by the disorientation of space, where there was no up and no down, no left and no right.

“Rage, you okay back there?” Bender said.

“Never better, bro.” To the AI in my helmet, I added softly, “Deploy barf bag.”

I threw up into the flutter valve of the bag.

CHAPTER SIX

Shaw

A
t my request, Fan carried my rifle-scythe slung over his back. I kept his loaded weapon to myself, along with his last three cartridges. I was a little surprised his ammunition had held out for as long as it did. Either he had a brilliant danger sense or he had a huge stock of supplies at his camp.

I had let Fan clean one carcass before we left the fallen pack. There wasn’t really time to carve up any more of the things, not unless we wanted to fight off other hybear scavengers.

I brought up the rear, while Queequeg trailed Fan, nipping at the heels of the SK. They made an odd pair. Queequeg, a cross between a hyena and a bear, and Fan, a human in a jumpsuit with black shale glued all over it.

We’d been marching for almost five and a half hours, and Fan had barely said a word. I seemed to recall a certain SK notion regarding good manners, where custom dictated that the guest remain silent until the host initiated conversation. I supposed I was the host in this case, and I could certainly use some conversation right about now. Light, superficial conversation—I didn’t want to get to know Fan overly well. I didn’t want to get attached to him, not on this planet where it was so easy to die. Especially when he was basically the enemy.

“How in the world is the radiation not affecting you?” I said. That was relatively superficial.

“Mmm?” Fan glanced over his shoulder, slowing. Queequeg gave him a good nip and he increased his pace again.

“You have Geronium rocks plastered to your suit. And you’ve been walking on a planet made of it every day. You should be dead.”

“If it pleases you, I have subdermal medications for that.”

I nodded. “But how long is your medication supposed to last?”

He laughed. “All right, I admit it. The medications have expired. I have had radiation sickness for months. It gets worse every day.”

“Oh.”

“What about you, Shaw Chopra? You are protected?”

“I have subdermals, yes. And they’re still active.” I wasn’t about to tell him my own were nearly exhausted. Another reason I wanted to find the ATLAS 5: better rad shielding. “What happened to the other Forma techs? You weren’t the only one, were you?”

“Oh no, no, no. There were five others. I was out surveying when the recall shuttle came. They were in a hurry. They did not wait for me.”

“Nice of them.”

“Yes.”

“You know, where I come from, we have a slogan.
No one is left behind
.” I didn’t know why I was telling him that. I wanted to show him how much better the people of the UC treated each other, I supposed.

“Good slogan. But then, why are you here Shaw Chopra?”

I chuckled. “Touché.”

We were in the equatorial valley I had nicknamed the Main Rift, a large canyon that ran halfway across the planet and put the Grand Canyon of Earth to shame. I scanned the edge of the gorge, searching for the series of defiles where the ATLAS 5 apparently resided. I double-checked my map. We would be reaching the area soon.

“You speak unusually good English for an SK,” I said.

“If it pleases you, I grew up in the United Countries.”

I noticed he was using the polite “if it pleases you” a lot more now. Speakers of Korean-Chinese prefixed it to the front of their sentences when addressing someone considered a superior, and since I was the one with the rifle . . .

“You’re a defector, then.”

“If it pleases you, no. I am but a poor immigrant who moved away before reaching the age of mandatory enlistment. I did not want to fight. If it pleases you—”

“Stop saying that!”

He seemed confused. “What?”

“
If it pleases you.
”

He hesitated, glancing back at my rifle. “If it ple—” He stopped, licking his lips. “Tell me, Shaw Chopra of the UC Navy, you have fought many of the Yaoguai?”

I increased my pace, walking forward so that I was by his side, two meters to his right. “You mean the crabs and slugs?”

“No. The Yaoguai. The mist demons.”

Yaoguai
. That literally meant monster, in Korean-Chinese. “You believe they are demons?”

“Why else would they possess our robots? The bad spirit, taking over the good?”

I regarded him curiously. “You said you had two robots helping you, back at your camp. How many did you have to start with, before you were stranded?”

“Eight. The Yaoguai took the other six. It is lucky the robots were unarmed, or I would not be here now. So you have fought them? The Yaoguai?”

“I wouldn’t say
fought
is the operative word. Ran, more correctly. Why, you’ve found a way to beat them?”

He snickered. “No, no. But I had hoped you had. The only way to beat a Yaoguai that I know of is to run, as you say. If you do not, you lose.”

“Yup,” I said. “You definitely lose. Being burned to a crisp isn’t something I’d call winning.”

“It is a fate worse than death. I have seen the Yaoguai take the Chéngdān—the hybears. It is hideous. To have your body disintegrated, then your being, your essence, transported to a hell beyond imagining, where every day is an endless trial of tortures . . . it is unimaginable.”

“We all have our own versions of hell I suppose. But dead is dead.” I thought of Big Dog and Alejandro, who had died at the hands of the Phants. Rade had shown me the vid logs of their deaths. It wasn’t a very good way to go.

I think Fan sensed I didn’t want to talk more on the matter, because he changed the subject.

“When we find this ATLAS mech, you will give me my rifle back?” he said.

“I’ll consider it.”

“We will stay together?”

I pursed my lips. “We will. Until we get to the next Forma pipe and you make me another oxygen extractor, at least.” The O
₂
tanks on the mech wouldn’t last forever, after all.

“You like to be alone, Shaw Chopra?”

I had to smile at that. “I told you, I’m a lone wolf.”

“I do not understand,” Fan said. “What does being alone have to do with being a wolf?”

“Well, wolves usually travel in packs, right? So, I’m not like the other wolves. I don’t travel in a pack.”

Fan grinned widely in understanding. “Ah. So you are not like an ordinary wolf. You travel alone.”

“Yup. Just said that.”

“I am the same. Or have been. These past fifteen Stanmonths, I’ve—”

“Fifteen Stanmonths?” Standard Earth Months. “Is that how long you’ve been here?” I almost couldn’t believe it, but I supposed it made sense. The SKs had fled this system roughly fifteen to sixteen months ago. And I thought being here
eight
months alone was bad. I could only imagine what it must have been like to endure this world for double that time. And without a companion like Queequeg.

“You are the first human face I have seen since I was abandoned,” he said. “Other than my own. And yours is far prettier.”

I grinned. “Flattery will get you everywhere.”

“I hope so. Though I am not certain how we will consummate our relationship while trapped inside these cumbersome jumpsuits.”

I rolled my eyes. “Please. Not the sex thing again. If you ever bring up consummating again, I might have to get rough with you.”

“Maybe I like rough?”

I swung the rifle barrel slightly toward him. “You wouldn’t like my kind of rough.”

He blinked rapidly. “My apologies. As I said, I have been alone for more than a Stanyear. I have lost a few of my, how do you say . . . social niceties. Not that I had very many in the first place. Ha! It was only a joke, little one. A joke.”

“Don’t call me little one.”

He sighed profusely. “But you are little compared to me, at least in age, Shaw Chopra.” He said my name slowly, dragging out every syllable. “Shaw. An odd name for a woman. You really do not know who George Bernard Shaw is?”

“Nope.”

“He was a twentieth-century playwright and novelist. I remember his work from primary school, in the UC. Did you ever read ‘Androcles and the Lion’ in class?”

“I was homeschooled in France. Lived on a cider farm. Didn’t do any George Bernard Shaw.”

“Ah.” Fan clasped his gloved fingers. “Well, it is the story of Androcles, a Christian on his way to the great Colosseum of ancient Rome, where he was to be executed by a lion.”

I snickered. “Sounds like a wonderful story to teach children.”

“Yes. The lion spared him.”

I thoughtfully tapped the glass of my face mask with one hand. If I didn’t have a helmet, I’d be tapping my chin. “So let me guess. I’m the big, bad lion, and you’re the kind, gentle Androcles, and you’re hoping I’ll spare you.”

“No,” Fan said. It was his turn to snicker. “The ATLAS mech is the lion, and you, my dear, are Androcles.”

Well, that was a rather disturbing thought.

We headed toward the layered rock that bordered this section of the Main Rift. I could see a series of defiles eroded into the rock. The map on my HUD indicated the promised ATLAS 5 was just ahead.

“Would you like to see one of the aliens?” Fan said.

“What? No. I’ve seen enough of them to last a lifetime.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Even the bipedal ones?”

That got my attention. “What are you talking about?”

“You did not know? So much for the great knowledge and prowess of the UC Navy. Yes, there are humanoids among the demons. Not human, but alien. Follow me, it is but a short way. Follow.”

He turned down a smaller defile eroded into the canyon wall.

I hesitated, suspecting a trap. The position of the mech on my map was clearly indicated in the
neighboring
defile, not this one.

I pointed my rifle at him. “If you try anything—”

He glanced askance and raised his arms. “There will be no trying of anything . . .”

I followed him into the defile. Not for the first time I wondered if this planet had ever had an Earth-like weather system, one that could’ve sent floodwaters rushing down the surface to carve out this valley and its network of gorges.

Queequeg’s body language changed when he entered the defile. His ears flattened, and his long tail curled tightly over his back—the posture a hybear assumed when preparing to fight.

After a few moments I spotted a gray jumpsuit lying spreadeagled on the ground ahead. I thought the suit belonged to an SK at first, but as I got closer, I realized the jumpsuit was far too large to house an ordinary human being.

Queequeg froze, growling deep in his throat. I rested a hand on his head, and in his tense state, the animal snapped at me. If I hadn’t withdrawn my hand in time he would’ve given me a good suit puncture.

I didn’t blame him for being distracted and high-strung.

I felt that way too.

“Fan. Stand against the wall over there, where I can see you.”

Fan bowed. “As you wish.” He moved to the edge of the defile.

I approached the motionless jumpsuit, while Queequeg and Fan stayed back. My heart beat faster with each step.

Relax, Shaw. It’s obviously dead.

But I couldn’t relax.

The jumpsuit lay prostrate, but I couldn’t tell if I was looking at the front or the back, or if it was even intended to have a front or back. I’d never seen a jumpsuit design like this before. It was all gray tubes and spheres and servomotors. Three legs. Seven arms—four in front, three in back. Well, I don’t know if you could exactly call those arms,
tentacles
might be a better word. I saw no elbow joints or fingers of any kind, just long tubes that ended in stumps. From the way the material crinkled in the middle, I thought the appendages might be able to grasp things in a manner similar to an elephant’s trunk.

I knelt, and gazed warily at the translucent dome that capped the jumpsuit. It seemed completely intact, and without a scratch anywhere on it. I leaned forward slowly, peering over the rim bit by bit, half expecting some small, skittering alien to burst forth at any moment and attach itself to my face.

And then I was staring fully into the dome, right down into the suit. Inside was . . .

Absolutely nothing.

I sat back on my haunches.

“It’s empty,” I said, unsure whether to feel disappointed or elated.

“It is,” Fan agreed.

“You could’ve told me that in the first place.”

“I could have, yes. But why spoil the surprise?” He smiled widely.

I shook my head, standing. “Idiot.” I brushed bits of shale away from my knees, then I gave the empty suit a good kick. The torso shifted slightly before slumping back into place.

“I found it a few months ago, just like this,” Fan said, glancing upward. “Perhaps the humanoid fell from the cliff top and died in the fall. Or perhaps it exhausted the necessary gaseous or liquid atmospheric elements necessary for its survival.”

“Or it died of radiation poisoning.” I stared at the empty dome, considering the possibilities. So many ways to die out here . . .

A surge of anger filled me, and I rounded on Fan. “Are there any other aliens or alien objects around here I should know about? Don’t hold stuff like this back, you hear me? If you want to live, you have to keep me in the loop. I’m the one in the military. I’m the one with the training and survival skills to see us through this. You’re a mere civilian.
Comprenez-vous
?
”