Target 10 S3.4 Revelations
He'd never seen such a pale shade on any of his Azuan friends.
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RJ placed Reby in the autodoc, tucking the pale red sheet in around her. He leaned in, caressing her ashen face. He'd never seen such a pale shade on any of his Azuan friends. He swallowed and squeezed his eyes shut. She'll be alright. She has to be.
Behind him, Jemy set her clothes down on the table and her boots on the floor with a thud.
RJ stood up straight. "Aida, initiate a full diagnostic and whatever will get her temperature down."
The lid closed.
"Initiating a temperature stabilizing protocol within specified limitations," Aida responded.
"I didn't give you limitations. Do whatever the hell you need to."
"I'm sorry, RJ. The limitations were provided by someone else."
"I'm getting so sick of this!"
Jemy placed his hand on RJ's back. "Why are you interfering with the autodoc, Obi?"
"I would not use the word interfering, Jemy." Obi's voice came over the com systems rather than in his head. "I gave Aida recommendations based on the nature of her ailment. We didn't have time to discuss it before now, but her fever is the only thing keeping the nanosyms at bay. Would you like me to explain?"
"Yes!" RJ and Jemy said at the same time.
"According to your records, you all had immunity boosters activated prior to this trip. Inside Reby, they are currently fighting with the nanosyms that Clay infected her with during their coupling."
At the word 'coupling' RJ fought back the urge to vomit and instead smashed his fist into the side of the autodoc. Jemy squeezed his shoulder.
"What is a nanosym?" Jemy asked.
"It is a human constructed, nano-scale biological robot. From studying Clay, and hearing his story, I've come to believe that it was an early precursor of your immunity boosters."
"So, the two are fighting for control?"
"Yes," Obi said.
"There must be something else we can do besides wait and see which one wins." RJ rubbed his knuckles, not noticing the purple tones already emerging.
"I've run simulations for various scenarios. The best outcome was to let her systems work through their natural processes," Obi said.
Fucker! "How did you define 'best outcome'?"
"She survives in her original state. The immune boosters win."
"And if they don't?" He could barely choke the words out.
"There are two other potential outcomes. The immune boosters lose. In this case, she will wake and carry the infection as Clay did. It is also possible that the immune boosters win, but her body is so badly damaged she doesn't survive."
"What are the odds of each outcome?" Jemy's voice sounded strained, his hand moving back and forth across the top of the autodoc lid.
"That's difficult to say not knowing more about your immunity boosters. But the data from your medical systems makes me think the highest probability is for her to become a carrier."
"I'm going to go kill the bastard!" RJ unslung his rifle.
"As I mentioned before, he cannot be killed. Not by conventional means. Though," Obi paused, "I reluctantly agree he shouldn't be allowed to survive."
"Reluctantly?" RJ scoffed. "Tell me how to kill him, then."
"It is against our nature to interfere or harm any living thing. This is an extreme exception, but I am still uncomfortable with the solution."
"Just tell me how."
"Disintegration."
"No wonder he disabled the gun," Jemy said. He turned and collapsed into the seat near the autodoc.
RJ ran his fingers through his hair. "I, I can rig something up. Repurpose one of, one of our—"
"No. That's not necessary. I've crafted a tool for this specific purpose," Obi said.
The fire in him flashed hotter. "Why didn't you use it? Why let him do this to Reby?"
"I'm non-corporeal. My essence exists only with the systems of Havenstar."
"Then how did you make the damn thing?" RJ checked on Reby, then started pacing in front of the autodoc.
"There are a few facilities still functioning. The tool is available for you to pick up on your way to secure my transport vessel."
"I'll go," Jemy said.
RJ swiveled to face Jemy mid-pace. I need to do this! "Let me, please. I never should have left her with him!"
Jemy stood and stepped toward him. "We wouldn't be here at all if it weren't for me. And you told me over and over not to trust him, but I did. It's my fault. I have to go."
RJ opened his mouth to argue, but he held back the words. I know what it's like not being able to make things right. He nodded. "I'll take care of her."
"I know you will." He gave RJ a quick hug and exited the room.
***
The door to the lab closed behind Jemy and the floor beneath him seemed to pull away, back into the lab. Across from him, the comfy chairs and couch in the common area warped downward. His knees gave way and the wall twisted as he reached out to catch himself.
He missed, ending up on all fours. Closing his eyes to stop the spinning, he remembered the day he survived the Sincan Sands on Azu. He was twelve, dashing back and forth along the beach, daring to get closer to the enormous waves crashing.
But he'd gone too far. The other kids had turned away just in time, but his feet sank into the fluidized sand. Flailing, he'd screamed. The retreating sand yanked him into the waters as the next wave approached. He'd been swallowed up, rolled and disoriented as the water swirled around him. When he'd woken up at the medical center hours later, his father was there holding his hand and brushing away a stray hand of hair from his face. Scratches on his father's face and arms told him how he'd survived, though he heard the full story of the dramatic rescue later.
His father had saved him then.
There was no one to save them now.
I did this. I'll save us. Whatever it takes. He rested a few more seconds, willing his body to stand. Part of him wished all he had to do was fly away, channel all his emotions into escaping the present threat. Piloting gave him focus, a physical outlet for stress and uncertainty. Instead, he had to kill someone.
Focus on something else!
"Obi, where am I going?" Jemy held onto the railing while descending the metal stairs into the cargo bay just in case his vertigo came back.
"Enter the teleporter and I'll bring you to our manufacturing center. Are you feeling well?"
"I'm fine. You emptied everything out of here except your manufacturing equipment?" Keep talking. Thoughts of Reby, what it meant to have a nanosym infection and whether she'd survive the ordeal loomed over him like waves about to break. Behind the waves was Clay, waiting for him.
"Our protocols leave a limited amount of functional equipment behind."
The light of the docking bay made him squint. "Why are you talking in my head again?"
"This is our primary mode of communication. I used your communication systems initially because it would be more familiar, and less threatening, to you. However, outside your ship, no communication system will function other than our own."
Telepathic communication. Wonderful. "Can you read my mind?"
"It is possible. But our protocols forbid reading any undirected thought. Also, the energy shift necessary to sync to your thought patterns is too great for me."
Jemy shook his head and stepped into the teleporter. "Someday you'll have to explain that more." He crossed to the control panel, preparing himself for more disorientation. Though he'd grown used to the uneasy feeling of being teleported, given his current state, he didn't relish another chance to revisit his childhood trauma.
"There's no need for the control panel. I've already moved you."
He spun around to see the door opening onto a large room, like they all were, but this one stretched out so far he couldn't see the end. He took a deep breath in. The air was clean, tinged with ozone that tickled his nose. Lining the walls on either side were rounded rectangular containers. Some were a dull black, except for symbols glowing in various colors along the front. None of the markings matched what he'd seen in other parts of Havenstar. His eyes went wide, and he reached to pull out his tablet. No. No more time for studying.
He continued walking down the wide aisle between the containers. Some had clear tops and black bottoms. He peered into one, his head just reaching the start of the clear top. The interior was a glossy white, with slots along the left side, but it was empty. The boxy machines towered over him, and though quiet, he couldn't shake the sense that they were alive, ready to move in an instant. A few more steps and he noticed a low hum, the heartbeat of the machines.
"Ahh, where am I going?"
"Continue as you are. The depository is on your left."
He walked farther into the room, his mind shifting between thoughts of Reby, Clay, and the realization he'd learned next to nothing in the weeks he'd studied the star. How foolish I've been.
Just ahead, he noticed there was a clear container twice as long as the others. The interior was white, with black stripes across the back.
"This is the depository. Please step close to it to retrieve the tool."
Tool. Right. Call it whatever you want, Obi. It's still a weapon.
One of the black stripes slid out from the far side like a drawer. On the flat surface sat a tapered white cylinder with a small handle protruding from one end. From the left side, a long silver-mesh arm with three fingers emerged. It gripped the tool and twisted toward Jemy as the clear surface disappeared.
He jumped back, his heart pounding. "Marisil!"
The arm stretched closer toward him, twisting the tool so the part that looked like a handle faced him. He swallowed hard, still able to hear his heart pounding in his ears.
"Please take the tool, Jemy."
"But, but that arm. It's just like Marisil's." A shiver ran down his spine as he remembered watching the video of RJ's encounter. He moved farther back.
"Yes, it is. Clay needed a companion, and I agreed to furnish a portion of the materials."
He clenched his fists. "RJ's right. You helped him. Helped him try to murder us and do, do that to Reby!"
"Please, Jemy. Don't jump to conclusions. I do feel partially responsible for what happened to your sister. But I didn't aid Clay in any way. Not recently. Marisil was created three hundred and sixteen CR standard years ago."
He caught his breath. That's before the collapse. "What? How..." He kept his gaze on the arm.
"My last interaction with Clay was three hundred and four years ago. Once Marisil's design had stabilized, I retreated into my systems and let them occupy the star."
"Three hundred years..." His mind wouldn't settle on the number. Impossible. "No one lives that long, even with the life boosters on the black market. How is that even possible?"
"I told you he can't die."
"Yeah, but I assumed you meant he had some kind of shield or technology to block our weapons. But you're saying he's, he's immortal?"
"Effectively, yes. And it is technology protecting him. The nanosyms keep him alive, no matter what injuries he sustains."
"The infection?" A sense of dread spread through him, like an icy wind over bare skin. It settled in his chest, making it hard to breathe.
"Yes."
"Reby..."
"Please take the tool, Jemy. While I have Clay contained, he is quite strong and inventive. It would be best if he didn't free himself before we are ready."
He heard the words. Yet he couldn't make himself even lean closer to the tool. "What's really happening to Reby?"
"It's just as I told you. Her systems are attempting to prevent the nanosyms from taking control. It would be best for her, and you, if she were not near Clay if the nanosyms win. Please take the tool."
He took one step closer. "I feel like there's more you aren't telling me."
"There are details, yes. But you know the essence of what is happening and what needs to be done. If you take the tool, we can discuss more on the way to my transport vessel."
Nodding, he eased himself closer and reached out. He gripped the offered handle. It was warm and soft, with a foam-like padding.
The fingers on the arm let go. It collapsed on itself and disappeared back into the left side of the container.
He stepped back as it moved and took a deep breath when it disappeared. The tool was light and felt natural to hold, though it had no visible controls. Too big for his pockets, he shoved it in his pants, the waistline auto-adjusting to hold it tight. He hesitated and pulled it back out. "How does it work?"
"It operates on thought. However, it won't activate unless you are holding it."
Feeling safe it wouldn't go off on its own, he put it back in his pants. "What am I supposed to think to make it work?" He headed back toward the teleporter, the tool pushing up against his hip.
"Something as simple as 'now'. When you're in range, of course."
"And how far is that?"
"It's optimized for six meters. Farther than that and the dispersion is too great."
"Good to know." His pace quickened until he was back in the teleporter. He'd barely entered when the door closed and opened again. He's fast. Turning around, he caught his breath.
The room in front of him was dark. The only light was a dim blue-grey glow from the floor that was overlayed with a narrow, rectangular black grid. Though it gave the appearance of tiles, it was seamless and stretched out in all directions. If the other rooms had made him feel small, this one made him feel microscopic. He could make out a semi-glossed black wall across from him, the floor light reflecting off the base where the two met. The ceiling hung so high above there was only a void, a blackness looming over him.
His curiosity pushed him forward. Once inside, he realized the room wasn't that much bigger than others he'd seen. It was wider than it was deep, though, and a lot taller. Still, it's so different.... The Obexpl were even more of a mystery than he'd ever thought.
"Ah, what now?" He couldn't shake the feeling something was waiting for him in the darkness above.
"You are in the potarixl, near the center of the star. My vessel is located several levels above. Please step into the center of a circle."
He glanced down to his left and saw two circles outlined in the rectangular grid. They were about three meters across, and the center glowed a little brighter than the rest of the floor. Once he reached the middle it lifted, and a low rounded lip formed around the edges. The flying disc moved higher across the room. "Whoa."
A dashed line of the blue-grey light appeared, reaching high up, disappearing into the darkness above. As he got closer to it, he saw the light was on a wall. A meter away from it, the disc seemed to lock onto the line and accelerated vertically. Soon all he could see was the line and the light of the disc. He fought the urge to sit down. And the urge to look over the edge. Breathe. Just breathe.
He widened his stance as the dashed line became solid and air rushed past him. It was impossible to say how fast he was going, but his senses screamed it was too fast. He closed his eyes, hoping it would help calm him.
It didn't.
Instead, his vertigo returned. He sat cross-legged, keeping his eyes on the light of the disc, focusing on a tiny spot he imagined was dirt. A chuckle erupted from him at the sight. If it was dirt, it was brought there by an alien. By him, into the Obexpl's home. Oh, the irony. Leaning over the spot lest it get blown away, he wondered what his academic peers would say if they could see him now.
***
The consistent hum of the Demption's systems, felt more than heard, almost lulled RJ to sleep. Firey knives of guilt kept him awake, though. He sat in Jemy's comfy work chair, leaning back with his feet on the table and angled so he could see Reby in the autodoc. I never should have left her.
He'd repeated the thought a thousand times, each time the pain intensifying until he convinced himself that Clay couldn't hurt her anymore. She's safe. I hope. What Obi had told them about the infection meant she could still die. He refused to accept the possibility.
She shifted, tilted her head and winced.
He leapt to her side, his eyes wide. "Aida, any change?"
"Reby's condition remains the same as the last time you asked, approximately four minutes ago. I will alert you if she needs assistance."
"I want to know even the slightest change, whether I'm needed or not." His hand caressed the dome above her face.
"I understand."
"Good." He watched until Reby relaxed again before returning to the chair. Tapping the desk with his hand, he glanced around the lab. Many of the weapons they'd gathered still sat on the tables. Reaching across, he picked up a singlscot, a tiny handgun with a needle-like barrel. At close range, it would do ten times more damage than a standard E-blaster. But it was only good for one shot, a last hurrah when in tight quarters. It may not kill him, but it'll sure as hell hurt.
He put it in a pocket to make himself feel better. His irritation at Jemy being the one to go off had left him quickly. Being by Reby's side is where he wanted to be, but he also wanted to be ready for anything. He turned on the display at the table to go through his pre-flight checks. The sooner we're off this hell-hole, the better. It was overkill, having just flown down to the star, but it was better than spending his time worrying.
As he scrolled through the engineering system's statuses, a green flashing light on the fabrication system caught his attention. Accessing the systems, he saw schematics for three items he didn't recognize. And they'd already been built. Switching to video, he zoomed in on them in the delivery tray. One was a square with the middle cut out in some geometric pattern not much bigger than his hand. The other two were small, thin rectangles with gold connections poking out of them. He recognized the connections as the typical interface for a mini-power pack. The things they were attached to, though, made no sense to him.
"Ah, Aida. What are these things in the fab system?"
"I'm glad you noticed them, RJ. I was instructed to fabricate the parts based on the schematics provided by Obi."
He sat up straight. "What? When?"
"Just before Jemy left the ship."
"Obi! What is this about?"
"His instructions were for you to assemble them as the housing for his vessel once he arrived onboard," Aida said.
"Obi!"
No answer.
"Fuck!"
"Perhaps if you saw them—"
"I'm not leaving Reby."
"It would only take a few minutes to retrieve them. It is a reasonable assumption that she will be fine for that amount of time."
"Easy for you to say." He walked over to Reby. She looked the same as she did before. "Did he say what they were for? Why he needs them?"
"The interface will allow him to communicate through the ship's systems."
The image of the parts wouldn't leave his mind. Back at the desk, he examined the schematics more closely, confirming the power pack connection and the slots for them along the edges of the square base. What the square base did, though, he couldn't tell. The internal design was nothing like what he'd seen. If he hadn't been looking at one, he'd probably have said the fabricator unit couldn't even have built it. The output report showed success though, so whatever it is must have been made correctly.
"Dammit! Alright, I'm going to run and get them. You tell me the instant anything changes with her."
"Instantly."
Jemy, I hope we're doing the right thing. With one last look at Reby, he dashed out the door.