Escape Velocity: The Anthology (14 page)

       “
But the innocent recipient will be killed too.”

       “
Yes, that is inconvenient.” Barlow glances at the portrait again. “But Father would be so proud. And I get a substantial reward for my troubles. Think of the potential earnings.”

      
His voice tails off as I propel him towards the screen. “Mum, Dad,” I say. “Don’t think bad of me for what I’ve done. And what I’m about to do.” Barlow squirms in my grasp. “There’s no hope for me, but this has to stop. And there’s only one way.”

      
My voice starts to break so I just blurt out, “I love you guys,” then holding the business end of my knife near Barlow’s eyes, I growl, “Send it.”

       “
Will you let me go then?” he asks. “I’ve helped you, haven’t I? I’ll call the police off, if you do. Tell you what, we’ll split the reward. What do you say?”

       “
You’ve destroyed my life, Barlow. I can’t let you destroy others.”

       “
So you’re all noble now? Can’t be bought?” he sneers, struggling to free himself. “It’s only losers who buy our product. The ones who want to impress, but can’t be bothered to actually learn a new skill.”

       “
Got that, people?” I yell at the screen. “You bastard. Send it.”

      
Shutting his eyes tight, he nods. He’s obviously thinking the right thoughts, because there’s a beep from the screen and “Message sent” flashes up. He opens his eyes and tries to push my knife away, inching towards the door at the same time. I hear muffled shouts.

       “
Oh, thank goodness,” he says. “In here! Quickly. What took you so…”

      
He stops talking, clutching his throat and making gurgling noises. Watching him, I wipe the blade on my jeans and can’t help thinking about line drawings.

      
A knock. “Sir, is everything all right in there?”

      
I don’t answer. Instead, I use Barlow’s blood to write with letters a metre high – two words on the wall behind his desk.

      
I climb onto the window ledge – grateful for the breeze on my face – and my stomach cramps as I peer down at the dots of light far beneath me. Damn, it’s not natural for humans to be this high up. Your choice, Kyle. Public execution or... More voices outside the door, then, as armed police rush into the room I launch myself from the building. Trying to breathe against the uprush of air, I imagine tomorrow morning’s NewsFast covering the investigation of Barlow Implants after the shocking confession of its owner shortly before his murder. And on giant TV screens across the globe, my painted words  “
Caveat Emptor!
” for everyone to see. Written in what?
Haemorrhage Scarlet
, I suppose they’d call it.
Mercenary Red
, I’d say. Either way, it’ll probably turn out to be my masterpiece. Something to remember me by.

      
There’s not much traffic up here this time of night. Will there be a fast-food stall hovering below, serving the late-shifters, I wonder? Will I be as lucky as the original Diver?

      
I hope not.

      
I manage to turn over so I’m facing upwards. The late evening sky has been my favourite painting subject over the last few months. Tonight it’s
Indigo
with streaks of
Winsor Violet
. It could do with a touch of
Deepest Cobalt,
I think, and for the first time in months, I smile.

First Class

Barbara Krasnoff

Naomi dreamed that she was sitting in the lobby of a hotel. Naomi always liked hotels. She enjoyed sleeping in a clean, well-furnished room that was straightened each day by invisible hands. She preferred choosing her breakfast from a selection of fresh foods at a well-decorated side table in a quiet restaurant. She often envisioned herself sitting in a cozy lobby bar with a glass of white wine and an old mystery, listening to a gentle piano melody under the buzz of civilized conversation. Even after she retired from working, and no longer had the excuse of a business trip, she would occasionally travel to savor the joys of staying in a reasonably good hotel.

      
In this dream, she sipped her wine, and watched people walk past. After a while, she became aware that the piano had become somewhat shrill. She reached for her check, and found that she couldn't move her arms. A waiter, no doubt wondering why she didn't sign her bill, came over, and asked in a solicitous but unpleasantly rough voice, “Do you require.... Please respond.”

      
Naomi suddenly realized her eyes were closed. She opened them. She was sitting in a small room - no, in a small emergency lifeship - in a padded chair, with her arms strapped to the armrests. As she looked around the straps withdrew.

       “
Please ...pond,” said the rough voice near her ear.

       “
My,” Naomi said woozily. For a moment, she was quite content to remain as she was, not terribly curious about her circumstances. Then she took a breath, and her mind cleared.

      
She had been on her way where? The memories flooded back in a rush. She had been on a cruise ship, accompanying an infirm and very elderly woman on a tour of various interstellar sights, and there had been an alarm. Naomi had exited the room to find out what the problem was, and a crew member had grabbed her arm, ignored her when she tried to tell him about her client, pushed her roughly through an open door marked ‘Emergency craft’. He had told her not to move, and he would return in a moment.

      
Then there was a rumble, and a voice had ordered her to get into her seat.

      
Naomi was distressed to find that she couldn't remember anything else.

       “
Are ... injured?” asked the calm voice.

      
Naomi looked around. She was sitting in a lounge chair inside a small circular cabin.

      
The cabin contained nine other chairs, and was lined with a bank of controls with blinking lights. The voice was, no doubt, the ship's system talking to her. “Idiot,” she reproved herself, and swung her legs over the side of the chair. “Hello?” she called, trying to keep her voice steady. “Where are we? Where is the ship?”

      
There was a crackle of noise, a pause, and then the computer voice resumed, still rough, but more recognizable. “This craft has landed on the fourth planet of Star Y342.5 in the Ridgeline system. The planet is inhabited by one known sentient species rated 4DB on the contact scale. The … rated acceptable for human use, with … careful about engaging in extreme aerobic activity. The plant life is partially edible, with warnings that visitors should consult this unit before eating any unfamiliar...”

       “
What is 4DB?” Naomi asked.

       “
That is the contact scale designation. Non-threatening, although due precaution should be taken not to offend any sentient ...” The computer relapsed into electronic noise.

       “
Hello?” Silence. Naomi walked over to a view screen on the cabin wall. It was blank, reflecting back only a petite woman with short, silver hair, a discrete butterfly tattoo on her left cheek, and the slow dryness of advancing age on her face. “What happens now?” she whispered to the image in the view screen.

      
There was no answer.

      
She sat down at the seat in front of the console. Controls glowed faintly on the panel, some were labeled. One of them had the word Help on it. She pressed her finger lightly against the label.

      
A simple menu floated in front of her, glowing in large red letters: Emergency Instructions. Audio only. Text only. Audio and Text. “Well, this is an emergency, I guess, if anything is,” she said, and pointed at the last bar. As soon as her finger ‘touched’ the projection, it changed.

      
A sentence appeared.
Are you injured? Yes. No.
There was no audio.

      
She took a breath. She felt okay. She touched ‘No.’

      
Is anyone else in your party injured? Yes. No.

      
She touched ‘no.’

      
Do you feel that you are in any immediate danger?

      
Naomi thought about that. She was breathing all right, although she had no idea how much oxygen was provided on board the lifeship. According to the view screen, there didn’t seem to be any obvious external hazards. She touched ‘no’.

      
Are you or anyone in your party familiar with ship operation?

      
No.

      
The color of the projection changed to a muted blue.
Thank you.
Please wait for ship diagnostics. This will take approximately six minutes.

      
After what Naomi supposed were six minutes (but seemed like hours), a new message began scrolling into view.

      
Records report that an emergency beacon has been launched. Ship propulsion is beyond repair. Environmental services have been partially restored and will be available for another five point three hours. External communications are beyond repair. Internal communications, including research and controls, are being repaired and will be available in approximately thirty minutes. External sensors are being repaired and will be available in approximately 212 minutes.

      
The scroll stopped.

As she waited for the computer to complete the repairs, Naomi spent the time checking compartments labeled Food, Water, Lifesuits, Tools, Sanitary Facilities, and Oxygen.

      
The first two opened easily, and offered large numbers of small gray packages with white and pink labels. The third compartment held several lifesuits, while the one marked Oxygen had the expected tanks and nozzles. She decided she could figure out how to use the facilities behind the fifth door with little trouble.

      
The fourth door revealed a neatly packed set of various tools and instruments. She could only guess at their use. “Well, if this gets too boring, I could always take up a hobby,” she said aloud. She giggled a little and wondered whether she was becoming hysterical.

       “
Please restate the question,” the computer said calmly.

      
Naomi jumped. “Okay,” she said cautiously. “What do I do now?”

       “
Please be more specific,” the computer said.

       “
Is it safe outside?” she asked. “Can I go out?”

       “
According to available records, the atmosphere on this planet is rated acceptable for humans.”

       “
Records? Um ... do you have anything about this planet I could read?”

      
The sign flickered for a moment, and then showed a series of symbols, each with its own label: Environment, Atmosphere, Flora, and Fauna. She pushed each in turn. She discovered that the small continent she had landed on had a reasonably good atmosphere, a little higher in oxygen than she was used to; a warm but acceptable climate, reasonable gravity, and arid landscapes dotted by small areas of wild growth.

      
On further investigation using the menus provided, she was able to pinpoint her exact location. She was about a half-mile from the nearest water source – inconvenient but manageable. The water was drinkable with some processing by the ship’s food units, which she discovered to her relief were still operable.

      
She remembered the computer had told her a rescue beacon had already been launched, probably just before the lifeship began entering the atmosphere of the planet.

       “
What if I'm not near the ship when somebody comes to get me?” she asked the computer. “How will I know?”

       “
This ship will activate an audible alarm if a signal is sent to the emergency beacon.”

       “
Well,” she said. “In that case, I suppose I could stretch my legs a bit.”

       “
You wish to exit the craft?”

       “
Yes. Yes. I wish to exit.”

      
A small green light blinked above the entryway. There was a quiet grinding noise as the door opened. The craft was suddenly flooded by a purplish pink light. It was like looking through a pair of strange sunglasses. She shaded her eyes and looked outside. The landscape rose gently to a small hillock a few yards away. It was covered by a spongy sort of lavender moss, and dotted with small groves of bushes that shone dark pink in the weird light. Naomi stared at it for a few minutes, then took a breath and stepped out the door.

      
She stood awkwardly. It felt as if she were trespassing.
What I wouldn’t give for someone to run up and tell me to keep off the grass,
she thought. She bent down and touched the moss, which turned out to be a lot tougher than it looked; it was rough and dry, and took considerable effort to push down. She took a few short steps and stopped. Suddenly, she ran back into the ship, buried her head in the seat, and began to cry.

During the first week – made up of days measured by the rising and setting of a strange red sun, Naomi hardly left the ship at all, terrified of what might lay beyond the door. She spent her time researching the system’s copious library of data on various survival methods and other subjects. Sometimes she stared for hours at the small red indicator on the control panels that would change to green if a computer on another ship had responded to the distress beacon.
Maybe if I will it hard enough,
she thought. It remained red.