Redemption Protocol (Contact) (56 page)

Stephanie put her right arm across Novosa to calm her thrashing and supported Novosa's head with her left hand. Stephanie cradled Novosa, who must be feeling unimaginable relief, as she issued instructions to the two princes. Charles knelt on the opposite side of Novosa as he broke into the medical pack.

Havoc hovered high above them as he communicated with Stone.

> Tyburn sent me down; Ekker escorted me to the slot and left me there.

> Where are you now?

> I'm on top of the reactor being lifted out. I clipped onto it.

> They don't know you're coming up?

> No.

> What's the problem, exactly?

> I think they've done a deal with the ORC.

> How do you know?

> I hid a relay transmitter in the cabin.

Oldest trick in the book, Havoc thought. Point to Stone.

> Anything else?

> I
hate
heights, I'm scared and I really need help.

Good summary, Havoc thought. Bad news all over. Especially for Stone.

~    ~    ~

Stephanie leaned over Novosa, the bitch who could blow her cover. Stephanie could scarcely believe her luck – she’d thought she was done for. But fate had given her a chance and she would grasp it with both hands. She doubted there would be another one.

She locked her right arm over Novosa’s body, trying to make it appear like a mixture of a comforting hug and the restraint of a distressed patient. She cupped Novosa’s head in her left hand and tilted Novosa’s neck forward so that the bitch couldn’t wriggle too much. Stephanie couldn't believe the bitch was still alive. Fortunately Novosa was exhausted and as weak as a kitten.

Charles knelt on the other side of Novosa's body with Tomas standing over him. Charles was a fucking poodle, he would do exactly what she wanted, and Tomas was even more predictable – he would consider administering first aid beneath him. Stephanie had panicked when she’d run back and slashed at Novosa’s arms and legs. She'd thought it was the kind of barbaric thing the Gathering might do. Thank God she had.

She smiled down at Novosa.

“It's ok, Saskia, I’ve got you. You don’t need to worry now.”

Stephanie could feel Charles gazing at her in admiration. It gave her a buzz of excitement. Novosa’s skin barely resisted as the slender needle protruding from her fourth finger pierced Novosa’s neck.

“Get me an airbag, Charles, we need to protect her from this atmosphere. She’s very weak. My God, who could have done this?”

Stephanie injected the sophisticated poison – in reality more of a nanoweapon in colloidal suspension – into Novosa. Frustratingly, Novosa’s body clotted around the thin needle, inhibiting the flow. Stephanie released a much wider needle from her middle finger and stabbed it into Novosa's neck. Novosa’s skin punctured under the pressure of the blunt feed as her mouth moved incoherently in protest.

Stephanie smiled at Novosa as she forced the hollow needle deep into Novosa's neck. Nanotubes emerged from the needle like tentacles from a sea anemone, penetrating Novosa’s body. Stephanie pumped in the nanoweapon that would seize Novosa's heart and lungs.

“She’s mouthing something,” Charles said.

Stephanie cuddled Novosa.

“Don’t worry, Saskia, I’ve got you.”

Stephanie felt a surge of excitement. She leaned forward, looking into Novosa’s terribly damaged eyes. They stared at each other. It felt intimate and thrilling.

“We won't be long, Saskia.”

 119. 

Weaver glanced over as Darkwood projected up a large holo depicting the gravitational anomaly. Data streamed across the holo as Darkwood rotated it with a look of intense concentration. Weaver wandered closer. Darkwood peered into the holo as he manipulated the image.

“I want to understand how the beam is controlled.”

She smiled at Darkwood’s keen interest.

“You’re a physicist?”

Darkwood raised his hands in protest.

“I’m a dabbler, nothing more, but I think I’ve found something. I want to check it out.”

“On the surface?”

“No.”

“No?”

“I need to fly out there.”

“To the beam?”

Darkwood nodded excitedly.

“To the anomaly, actually.”

Weaver smiled at his enthusiasm.

“Can I suggest an automated drone?”

Darkwood chuckled.

“Now you know that no matter how well that would do the same job, if I’m about to make a major breakthrough, I want to be there.”

Weaver laughed.

“Very honest.”

Darkwood smiled.

“I confess I’ve already summoned the research shuttle. What are you working on?”

Weaver’s eyes glittered.

“Some hints that there are levels, or powers, of consciousness. There is an implication that everything we are studying in the library is at the base, or lowest, level of consciousness and that a 'stronger' consciousness would have other carousels revealed.”

Darkwood’s expression turned to astonishment.

“Independent of the sequence levels?”

She nodded.

“Independent of the sequence levels.”

Darkwood appeared captivated by this idea.

“A power of consciousness. Does it imply any capabilities?”

Weaver shook her head.

“Not that I’ve found.”

Darkwood’s face morphed through a variety of expressions as he considered the implications of Weaver’s possible discovery.

“This could allude to the existence of mental capability. It might even suggest––”

“Psionics,” Weaver confirmed.

Darkwood's eyes widened in amazement.

“Incredible.”

Weaver hurriedly qualified.

“I’ve nothing definite as yet. It may have no practical applications at all.”

Karch walked over and interrupted with a sigh.

“Fournier is losing time again. We should get him up to the ship. I can’t baby sit him all the time.”

Weaver nodded.

“Ok.”

Darkwood smiled.

“Time to go. My shuttle is touching down.”

Weaver smiled as Darkwood hustled toward the exit.

“Good luck.”

Darkwood called over his shoulder.

“Thank you. Let me know what you find.”

Weaver waved.

“Will do.”

She smiled at Karch.

“He seems very excitable.”

Karch watched Darkwood go.

“You have no idea.”

Weaver did something of a double take. Karch blinked and looked mortified. Touvenay walked up to join them.

“If Fournier is going up to disc six I’d like to join him so I can make use of the full analysis suite on the platform.”

Weaver turned to Karch.

“Are you happy to take Fournier and Touvenay back up to disc six?”

Karch shrugged.

“If you’re happy for me to leave you and Kemensky here.”

Weaver smiled.

“I'm fine with that. I doubt anyone else can get in the front door to reach us anyway.”

Karch chuckled.

“True.”

Weaver spread her hands.

“Well then, if Kemensky agrees...”

They both gazed around, then looked blankly at each other. Weaver cast to her missing crewmate.

“Kemensky?”

 120. 

Novosa couldn’t fight.

Stephanie had her pinned down with her arm. Surely the others had to notice? Charles was looking at Stephanie more than her. Tomas stood over Charles. Surely Tomas would notice?

Novosa kept mouthing ‘it was you, it was you' over and over. Her lips felt like they belonged to someone else.

She felt a tiny needle enter her neck. She clotted around it immediately. Otva`li, she thought.
Fuck you
. The voice in her head screamed at her to fight for her life.

She was desperate for Charles to link her to some comms equipment or get the airbag over her head so she could breathe and speak. Anything. Please. Surely Charles would work out that something was wrong.

‘It was you, it was you.’

She wanted to gasp as the thick needle punctured her neck.

She panicked. It was so unfair and so one sided. She’d fought so hard to get this far. The foreign object thrust deeper. She felt micro-feed pipes burst out of the needle and snake through her neck. Her body closed off veins and arteries, trying to stop the flow of poison. She couldn’t block them all. The foreign substance contaminated her blood. Her heart and lungs responded erratically as the poison worked to kill her.

She diagnosed and scrubbed her blood, dumping toxins into her reservoir and fighting the bitch every step of the way. But there was too much. The toxins were interfering with her body's ability to respond. She felt the tentacles force up into her brain.

She wanted to fight but it was so unfair. The bitch was killing her
again
. She wanted to cry, but even that comfort was denied to her with her frozen, damaged eyes. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t cry. She was helpless like a baby.

Her senses darkened. Her mind dulled and her heart became sluggish. She tried to fight, to animate herself, but the inner voice that had screamed to fight had faded to a whisper. It spoke softly, ‘go to sleep’. Her heart slowed and her lungs seized.

Her mouth shaped the words. She was trying to tell them. Why couldn't they see?

‘It was you, it was you.’

~    ~    ~

Havoc looked down at Novosa as the others worked frantically to save her. Novosa’s condition looked marginal. Havoc was glad to see Stephanie getting involved as he tried to understand Stone's concerns.

> Was there anything else?

> They talked about delivery. Sending me down to the slot while they delivered. Ekker wondered if you would catch on.

> He actually mentioned me?

> Yeah, but Tyburn brushed him off. He said you’re too trusting; that you always were a day late and a dollar short.

Havoc was shellshocked. The words reverberated around his skull like a stray bullet in a tank.

Forge.

Claudius Forge.

'
You’re too trusting, Son, you always were a day late and a dollar short.
'

A thousand fragments of shattered sculpture lifted off the floor of his mind. Characteristic phrases, expressions, movements and pictures swirled and joined, forming larger pieces. The myriad of images and aural fragments spun like a fairground ride, accelerating, the swirling memories linking to form complete thoughts, joining, compounding, probability moving from an unknown to a certainty with the volume of corroborating evidence, the perfect fit, the complete absence of counterfactuals. The dam ripped open, releasing a deluge of images. The sculpture stood, perfectly formed now, reassembled seamlessly from a thousand, ten thousand, a million different pieces. The identity, certain; the enemy, present; his purpose in life, here and now.

General Claudius Forge.

Havoc’s heart turned to ice.

> Play it to me.

Retribution

 121. 

Stephanie spoke desperately.

“Oh my God, we’re losing her.”

Charles fitted the airbag over Novosa’s face.

“I’ve got this side.”

Stephanie’s voice cracked.

“Don’t die on us, Saskia. Keep trying, please.”

Novosa's blue lips moved in slow motion, their contortions a tortured mockery of their proper function. Novosa was mouthing something, a word, or a name. Stephanie was pleased to see Charles didn’t notice – he was too preoccupied with getting the airbag in place while Stephanie supported Novosa's head. It was thrilling to murder the bitch in plain sight of everyone.

Tears trickled down Stephanie’s cheeks.

“Please Saskia, don’t go, don’t give up. Don't die. Please.”

Charles fiddled with the seal around the shattered base of Novosa's helmet. Novosa’s lips stopped moving. Charles slowed down, then stopped.