Greyson
That’s it? The small recording’s like a ratty bit of cloth, the edges unraveling and threads impossible to reweave.
It’s all that’s been recovered from erasure, Nate says.
This was deleted?
Three hundred and sixty-seven years ago. Nate’s engines buzz in my lap as the AI sinks further into the ship’s systems, trying to get every last bit of oomph to reach Pa.
Who’s the Guardian, then? Bryn asks.
Isn’t it obvious? Nate replies.
The Guardian must have been the AI created to keep the ship safe, Zipper says and curls her tail around my neck, her head twisting to keep all the Mediators in view at once. They aren’t moving yet, suffering a complete system shut down. I’ve never trusted those suits. My MB would’ve been so useful right about now, except of course it’s sitting useless in Pa’s lab.
But why wake us with a false history? I question. Why not tell us we’re not circling Old Earth but a whole new planet? Why not land? I run my hands through my hair and tug. Zipper, this changes things!
It doesn’t change what you have to do right now, she says. Without Hugo, the navigational unit can’t reach your father’s beacon, but … The ship shudders, the giant blades groan, whomp-whomping around the ship and keeping us steady in orbit. This far from the engines, we can’t so much as hear them, but feel them, the quaking between muscle and skin. This ship needs to complete the resurrection procedures, the level quadrants need to be locked down and the citizens secured, Zipper continues.
What about L8? Lenora’s still down there. And us? On Level Zero?
I can re-order the programmed section departures, Nate says. Start with levels Two through Eight and their assigned equipment allotments, and then Level One. Level Zero and the Core stay in orbit so you’ll need to get to Level One before it leaves. Either way, the old command has been instigated and even I can’t stop it now.
The five standing Mediators attack in unison as the whole station shudders, an unsteadying tremble rattling the teeth in my head. It doesn’t slow the Mediators. They yank at the control panels around me, making them screech and spark, shifting them inch by inch to clear space to squeeze through.
“Bryn?”
“Right here,” her voice calls behind me.
“Hang on, not sure what’s going to happen next,” I shout and turn my attention to Nate.
You reach my pa yet?
Ah, no. Bec’s but a whisper. She’s north, he says, then adds real quiet-like, …ish.
Okay, strap in. You’re going to have to jettison the levels right here.
Here? Are you sure? I can almost imagine Nate fluttering his hands about in a panic – if he had hands. We don’t have coordinates. Without them, the quadrants could end up anywhere.
It’s not like we’ve an alternative, I retort.
And I can’t strap in, Nate cries.
Greyson, you’re losing thrust, Zipper growls and I feel a strange sense of weightlessness. At least from where I see, the Mediators have stopped ripping the control deck apart, but there are less of them. Where’ve they all gone off to? Is it Bryn’s doing?
“Greyson!” Bryn shrieks. “We’re falling!”
“Controlled falling. I’m in control.”
What do you mean, you’re in control? Nate declares. I’m the one in control! But there’s a strange note in his voice. In a human, I’d say it’s panic. We’re meant to be falling. The blades have to slow down to allow the jettisoning of sections.
If you don’t launch now, everyone will burn up on atmospheric entry, Zipper says and her claws dig deep into my shoulders.
“Grey! Look out!” Bryn screams and I look up, towards the windows, half expecting, I dunno, a moon or an asteroid or a whole planet or something rearing up before us. So when something slams into my side, knocking me from my seat to crash into the grating, I’m confused. My cheek burns from striking the deck, pulsing light shoots across my vision and I can’t breathe. Nate doesn’t even have time to cry out before he’s smashed into hundreds of pieces across the floor.
Lenora
When the recording ends, I’ve a thousand questions but the one I blurt out is, “Did you know?” I stumble back from my father’s outstretched arms, bumping up against a wall I could’ve sworn was absent before. It’s not a wall. A pair of Mediators stand behind me, not touching me, but as solid as any surface. I’m shaking so hard I feel at any moment I’m going to fall apart.
“It’s not just you, Nora,” Hugo reassures. “The whole station is shaking.”
Ship. It’s a ship.
“What should I’ve known, Lenora?” Father asks, pleading with his hands wide and open. He smooths his expression to loving and pleasant. Skies above, how could he be so calm after everything we just heard? “How unhappy you were, despite everything your mother and I’ve done? You rank number one and still it’s not enough?”
“Sky, no! Did you know the Triumph was meant to land? That it’s a ship?”
My father winces and fiddles with his wrist cuff. Like robots, the Mediators’ flashing headsets power off and, even though they’re all still standing right there, I know they can’t hear or see anything, their minds in a Cyberinth holding space.
“Yes, I knew. A select few of us did. We were inducted into the Guardian’s inner circle.”
“So you knew he was an artificially created intelligence?”
“I never met him in the flesh. But it doesn’t matter if he’s real or a program. He was designed to protect us and he has! If we’d landed on this alien world, who knows what could’ve happened?”
“So staying here, floating in this limbo, is the only viable option? Evicting people – people you and the Guardian swore to protect – like rubbish, is acceptable?” Tears I refuse to let fall make my vision blur and I hug myself tighter.
“Lenora, sweetheart, I did all this to keep you safe. Safe and happy.”
“Well, you failed.” I fling my arms out to encompass the frozen Mediators standing guard, the empty Level Eight neighbourhood, and my tears. “Am I safe? Am I happy? You’re trying to Evict me!” I stop to let that sink in. It doesn’t just sink in, it slams into my father.
Bryn
“Greyson!” I jerk back, crashing into a mountainous body hard enough to empty my lungs. Truthseeker skitters off under a table. I’m knocked from the calm battle mindset and I can’t think. Panic is a buzzing monster rampaging in my head. The desks behind us have been torn out and our little bowl of safety invaded. The Mediator has my elbows so firmly trapped every tiny squirm sends burning hot pain up into my shoulders. I focus on the discomfort, remembering every rap of Juni’s sword against my knuckles and every time Flynn slammed my body to the ground. “Let me go, you tin can! Greyson!”
He isn’t moving beneath the Mediator who tackled him like a thundering avalanche. With the unpredictable jolting of the ship, the Mediator hasn’t been able to get to his feet and continues to squish an unresponsive Greyson. “Get off him!”
He’s okay, Zipper says meekly. She’d taken a tumble, too, and is getting to her feet shakily. She stretches from nose to tail, metal panels clicking into place, and growls, jumping onto Greyson’s attacker, sinking her diamond tipped claws into the Mediator’s unprotected neck. He rolls off quickly after that.
Greyson wheezes from the ground, rolling onto his hands and knees, and takes in deep, steadying breaths.
“Grey? You okay?” I twist, hoping to trick my assailant into letting me go, but he’s the steadiest out of all of us.
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“Yup, but I think I’ve chipped a glitching tooth,” he says and he licks his bloody lip. “And I reckon I’ve a few cracked ribs, but I’m fair fine.” He groans, undermining his cheerful assessment as he carefully touches his side. He staggers into the command chair, circuitry and components rattling around his feet.
“What about Nate? Argh, let go!” I wiggle and the ship shudders again, tilting one way. I take advantage of it, shifting my weight and leveraging the larger body up and over my shoulder. The Mediator goes down hard, rolling as the ship continues to shake. That’s another down, only four to go. Truthseeker is steady in my hands as I face off against my next opponent.
“I’m here and, may I say, Bryn you’re such a badass!” a voice booms over the PA system and then giggles. “This is a much better body. All this space.”
“Nate? How’d you …?” Greyson looks relieved.
“Downloaded myself. Much easier in here.”
So you’re able to continue piloting? Zipper asks, leaping up so she can nudge her head beneath Greyson’s chin in comfort. The Mediators hang back, giving me a chance to catch my breath.
“Maybe. I can pre-program the sections’ releases easily enough from here, but those grunts have disconnected the navigational controls. You need to reconnect me.”
“Right.” Greyson scans the damage on the surrounding desks while gently feeling his side.
Bryn? Bryn, what’s happening? Chevette demands. The shortest Mediator darts forward, baton swinging, and I bring up Truthseeker to deflect. The bones in my wrists vibrate from the force.
We’re landing. Are you somewhere safe? I can only hope Harper and Teo have found a place to strap down and ride this out. But what about my mothers and Jonas? And what about Rayburn and the others? Is Undercamp fully sealed to handle entry? Would they even have air? They could freeze or burn or be crushed to death. The ship rocks and the Mediator stumbles, my sword stabbing into their suits computer, and they go down in a blaze of sparks. Five Mediators down, three to go.
This’s madness! Chevette says. Unknowns from the lower levels are appearing from nowhere! They’re saying we’re going to crash!
No, no, definitely not, no. Umm, just a tick. “Zipper? Would love some of your sense of justice my way,” I shout, as I duck a Mediator’s swinging fist while another disarms me with a clever twist of their baton. Truthseeker clatters across the carpeted floor.
Zipper grins, revealing all her teeth. From the command chair she leaps, claws outstretched across the deck, and sinks them into the Mediator’s headset. Metal screeches on metal and I dart beneath the desk to retrieve my sword. The floor tosses and I fall in a heap by Greyson’s feet. I glance up in time to see the second Mediator backhand Zipper across the room.
“Come on,” Greyson huffs, dragging me upright despite his ribs and, using each other for balance, we reach Zipper in a few stumbling steps, avoiding the remaining attackers through luck alone. Greyson scoops the robot up and tucks her safely inside his jacket without letting go of my elbow. Zipper purrs weakly with one ear hanging loosely from a wire and an orange eye shattered. Does she feel pain? And, if she does, what kind of cruel programmer would design her that way?
“Grey. You need to take cover,” I order. Screeching sirens and blaring indicators from the flashing panels forms a discord that drills slowly into my head and sits pounding behind my eyes.
“Nate! Switch them off!” Greyson yells and I wonder if he has a headache too, to match his potentially broken ribs and multiple bruises.
“I’m trying. This’s all new to me.”
Greyson maneuvers himself into a tiny dark space beneath a desk, his knees crammed under his chin, cables and wires hanging down like vines. I step in front of the space, wielding my sword, determined to keep him safe so he can keep our whole station...no... ship safe in return.
“You do know what you’re doing, right?” I ask, watching the last three Mediators stagger closer.
“Course.” Greyson’s head is bent to avoid the overhanging desk. At least the Mediators are too big to swarm around us all at once. I throw my weight behind each swing, aiming for the more fragile glass of their headsets and hoping to leave them well and truly rattled. Truthseeker is longer than their batons, giving me the extra reach I need to keep them at a distance, but I worry about how much longer the bokkun will last. We’re effectively trapped here unless I can take out the last of them. I angle my body so I can keep an eye on both the Mediators and Greyson.
Greyson switches on his mode light and Zipper peers through the gap in Greyson’s jacket, her working eye casting the space in a strange green glow. Her tail snakes up and embeds itself not in the usual modal port in the headset, but directly inside Greyson’s left ear, the tip splitting to reveal an inner fibre both flexible and dexterous enough to curl inside.
Are we going to crash, Bryn?
Nah, Chevette. We’ve got it all under control.
Lenora
The ship shakes violently and I bounce off the Mediator behind me, toppling him like a tree. I catch myself only to drop to the ground after another turbulent roll, my palms stinging as they scrape across the metal grating.
Hugo! I shriek. He’s already beside me, as steady as a puff of air, yet comforting nonetheless.
“Zipper says we’ve got maybe twenty minutes before Level Seven is launched, and we need to be in one of its quadrants,” Hugo says.
“Father, please, you have to help!” I beg. “Whether it’s safe to land or not no longer matters. All these people are in danger!”
“Lenora…” His face grey and old, pleading. Deep inside me is a burning white ball that hates him still, yet I’m unsure whether it’ll burn cool or explode hot.
“I looked up to you. You taught me to always try and do what was right, and I know I’ve made mistakes.” I hope I can make it up to Susie and everyone else I’ve hurt through my arrogance. “But you’re no longer that man. Maybe you never were. You betrayed your friends and what you did to Mother is unforgivable.”
“I did it all for you!” He’s desperate, guilt stripping his voice rough, hands reaching for me, but I shake my head hard.
“You’re a liar,” I hiss, tears threatening to fall behind my modes. “Don’t blame me for what you’ve done!” My words echo, punctuating the thumping beat of the propellers. I close my eyes, exhaustion settling across my shoulders. All I want to do is curl up and sleep. “Unlock the Core,” I say. “Make a station-wide announcement we’re landing and everyone has to get somewhere safe. Make sure all of Level Eight is cleared.” I straighten, holding my emotions in check. “You owe me.”
“Yes, yes, I do,” he says softly and enters something into a replacement cuff. The Mediators come back online, their minds recalled from the Cyberinth, and they immediately straighten. The one who’d fallen over clambers to his feet.
“New orders,” my father directs to each of them, though I know his instructions will be sent to the rest of his force, too. “You’re to sweep Level Eight. Move in block by block towards the Core. Understood?”
They don’t move.
“I require a verbal acknowledgement,” Father orders and they still remain quiet.
What’s going on? I send and Hugo raises an arm, gesturing for me to step away from them.
“I think we should go,” he says, watching them warily.
“It’s the Guardian,” Father mutters in disbelief.
“His directive is to protect us!” I take another step back.
“Protect the station maybe,” Hugo points out. “He’s proven the individual is dispensable and I suspect being ruler of this station for however many years, crafting us to be what he wants, means he’s evolved past his original programming.”
So he makes us forget? When our ancestors woke up, when Guard Sullivan and his skeleton crew woke up, he made them all forget who they were? I ask Hugo.
“It’s not too hard to imagine, memories being altered en masse, or by individuals themselves. They’re fluid at the best of times, but the Guardian took advantage and rewrote history on a massive scale. He built a world that would always need him.”
“Come on!” Father shouts when the Mediators take a threatening step closer.
Outrunning Mediators would normally be impossible, but however the Guardian is controlling them means there’s a minor delay in their reactions. It helps that the streets of Level Eight are riddled with abandoned objects – food carts, aging furniture, duffle bags spewing their contents everywhere – and we use the obstacles to our advantage.
Hugo, where’s the nearest stairway access? I ask.
“This way.” I follow his shimmering form, my father keeping pace, as we dash down a narrow street and pause in front of a steel hatch.
“We can’t afford to stop,” my father hisses, glancing back the way we came.
“The Core isn’t working so our only way to reach Level Seven is through the abandoned stairwells,” I explain. Together we crank it open, but before I can step inside, a wave of hot, acrid smelling air washes over us.
“Close it! Close it now!” Father bellows.
“What is it? What’s wrong?” My muscles ache as we seal the door shut.
“Those toxic fumes will kill us.” Father grabs my elbow and forces me to keep moving. “Without the right gear,” he adds, “There’s no way anyone could access the stairs.”
I shake him off and press my fingers against my lips, swallowing hard to keep from throwing up.
Oh no, Hugo, what about the people who’ve already evacuated? Did they make it to Level Seven? I imagine the stairways and tunnels packed with slumped bodies, forever trapped in the walls. There could be children in there.
“I don’t know, Nora. There’re reports of people arriving on Level Seven, so some managed to get through. I’ve stopped directing people to the stairs.” He frowns, his mind elsewhere. “Now anyone who’s still on Level Eight will head towards the Core.”
But we’ll still be trapped here. The Core’s not working.
“We’ll figure something out.” He squares his jaw determinedly and my nausea eases. It’s still not too late to save everyone. I owe it to the people I’ve failed. Susie Benedict who only offered kindness in the form of homemade coconut slice, Wally whose ambition was equal to my own, the little girl with the scribbled-faced doll who was swept up in the chaos of the evacuation. I hope they’re all okay.
We pass huddled groups of scared people and looters hunting the quiet streets in packs. I stop long enough to convince them to follow us. When the Core rears up before us, it’s surrounded by people milling about, listlessly. Wally’s nowhere in sight and I hope he’s okay.
People let us pass and Father hurries to activate the Core system. Nothing happens.
A slow grumble, more sound than movement, builds. The engine blades moan balefully in shuddering jerks. Everything is shaking, metal groaning, as connecting bridges and over-locking structures twist free, crashing down.
I reach out for Hugo, however my hand goes right through him. Instead my father grabs me and tugs me up against the safety of the Core. People are screaming. Dust thickens the air and I cough between pants. For a suspended moment I think this is it. Then the shaking eases.
“We have to get everyone out!” I shout to Hugo and he nods, brow furrowed as his eyes became blank, only a fragile manifestation I know is more for my state of mind than for any real purpose.
“Okay, let me … just … there!” He rubs the spot between his eyes as though his head hurts. “The Guardian’s losing control because I doubt we could do this otherwise.” To punctuate his words, all the Core’s doors open.
“Thank stars for small mercies,” Father sighs and shoves me towards the nearest one.
“No! Stop it! We have to make sure these people get out first.”
“Not until I know you’re safe,” Father says. Hugo looks like he agrees. I dig my heels in.
“You lost that privilege when you tried to Evict me. When you played a part in killing hundreds of people,” I snap and he flinches. “When you started thinking my life was worth all of theirs! I’m staying.” I glare at Hugo and he frowns, but there’s little he can do. “Now, are you going to help me or not?”