Greyson
Ma’s got to be right frightened. It’s my responsibility to make certain she’s safe and I just left her behind in a place full of Evicted. If something happens to her … and Zipper’s hurting. Her ear needs to be replaced and she’s doing her hardest to keep her pain from me, but being plugged in makes that impossible. Even the vision in my right eye’s pixelated, like looking through shattered glass, and her ribs ache. No, they’re my ribs aching.
I shut my right eye as I work, bringing the cables close to my face to see whether the red one’s actually yellow in the green light or white. And to make everything uglier, I’m to blame for the station literally falling out of orbit.
But Bryn’s standing over me like an avenging angel and I can’t quite get myself to despair just yet.
“Nate, is L8 empty yet?” I shout before stripping a wire with my teeth. I taste copper and tongue-tingling dust.
“Almost, we’ve countermanded the Guardian’s lockdown. He’s not happy.”
“Keep him busy, yeah.”
“Doing my best!” Nate says cheerfully.
A flash-flickering screen hovers by my left eye, showing off the system code in electric orange print in an archaic language that’s got me translating as we go.
Do you know what you’re doing? A voice murmurs into my brain. Bryn nudges my foot with her boot, head cocked all quizzical-like even as her attention remains on the Mediators. She heard it, too.
You’ve followed the breadcrumbs left by people who knew as much as you do, less even, and never questioned it. The voice’s familiar, soothing-soft with a dash of fatherly affection edging on patronising.
Guardian?
Yes, Greyson. I thought you’d like to know the truth. The whole truth. The Guardian’s words ooze honesty and integrity in every syllable.
And you’d just tell us?
I made a promise to keep this ship safe, the Guardian says.
But you didn’t. You’re a glitching AI, a smart program designed to serve this ship. You made no vows.
That’s irrelevant, he says sharp-like. I’ve done my duty.
Evicting people? Deleting whole neighbourhoods for more space when there’s a whole shiny planet waiting for us below?
Planet Kepler-78b, call sign Neutopia, is unsuitable for human habitation.
Bryn shuffles further back, casting the space I’m huddled within in shadow. I spare her a smile and focus on rerouting around the damaged system so Nate’s got complete control.
The Guardian’s gone quiet. I hope he isn’t figuring what I’m up to.
I’m like a virus, Nate sends me, cheeky-like. Least he’s figured out direct message. A sneaky, sneaky ninja virus. He doesn’t know I’m here.
How come it isn’t habitable? I ask the Guardian, hoping to distract him, but I’ve a curiousness and a worrisome, too. How you even know if no one’s been down there?
Probes determined the planet was not optimal. Continued existence within the confines of the Triumph was preferable. Indefinite sleep was not an option.
So you just made up an alternate history, then? You had no right to make that decision for us!
Do you have the right to make the decision for everyone now? he asks, and like an ice pick, his words strike hard, making my certainness start snap-cracking.
It isn’t the same. It’s not. We’re doing the right thing. We have to be. The station’s breaking apart, it’ll fall out of the sky all on its own soon enough. Maybe not our generation, but maybe our kids, or our kids’ kids.
You are in error, the Guardian intones and his voice is stripped of any humanity, an almost bored drone just as threatening as his soft coaxing. If you do not cease your efforts, I will be forced to take action.
Well, glitch you, you twisted piece of code, I say and, gleeful-like, I complete the last connection for Nate to start launches.
You got this, Nate?
Yes, totally. Yup, this’ll be … oh, umm, yep, all good. Level Two’s quadrants and paired storage sections for launch in … 3 … 2 … 1.
Lenora
We’re the final group to leave, the last of us shuffling into the lifts, before the doors close on Level Eight like a shroud. I’m elated, proud even, that we’ve succeeded, at least in this, but I worry about the Mediators still under the control of the Guardian. Have they escaped Level Eight, too? The small space is even smaller, crammed with people. I remember Jonas talking about frightened flesh-heifers in a pen. Father hovers nearby, but I duck under someone’s arm and edge into a corner. It hurts less with more space between us.
With a jerk, the lift moves, slower than I remember it ever going, and it makes a strange whining sound, a mixture of a groan and a sigh.
This’ll hold our weight, right?
“Course, it’s just the system running through the new parameters I created. It’s taking a bit longer, is all.” Hugo is watching the people around us as though they’ll bite. They’re mainly young men, many who’d been hard-pressed to leave their belongings behind, yet after the buildings began to crumble around them, they were quick to get on board. Wally’s in the next lift over, charming giggles out of a group of young kids who’d been left behind in the madness. I wish he was here with me.
The lift moans deeply, gears crunching before shuddering to a halt. The lights pulse on off on off in the heavy silence.
What is it?
“Zipper says Levels Two, Three and Four have been launched,” Hugo says, his head cocked to the side. “Level Five’s next.”
I shudder, imagining what would happen if our lift opens out onto empty space.
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Bryn
Nate releases the next section. We rock and I bite my lip, waiting for the shockwaves of the departing pods crashing into the spinning blades. But Nate times it well and the ship straightens, doing what it’s designed to do.
“Okay, Bryn, time to leg it,” Greyson says, shaking out his hands to release the tension.
“We’re trapped,” I hiss, gesturing to the Mediators blocking our exit. One lunges forward and I push off my back heel, ducking low and up to strike the wooden blade against the unprotected softness of their throat. They drop, their baton rolling away. Now just two more we have to get past on our way to the door.
No worries. Zipper squirms from Greyson’s jacket, her ear clunking against her cheek, and darts out from cover before either of us can even make a move to grab her.
“Zipper!” Greyson hisses, almost landing on my feet as he tries to go after her. He grunts, jaw tight with pain as he’s reminded of his aching ribs.
But Zipper uses my last downed Mediator as a launch point, her diamond tip flashing across vulnerable spots and forcing the last two back. I yank Greyson to his feet, his arm wrapped around his side, and take a defensive position in front of him. Zipper’s acting like her namesake, zipping across the deck, under tables, up a Mediator’s leg only to drive herself off their head and skid across a screen, claws creating sparks.
“Oi, haven’t I suffered enough damage?” Nate complains out loud.
Her diversion gives us enough time to scoot around the edge of the deck, pausing only at the exit for Greyson to crouch to let Zipper scramble into his hood. When we dart out into the waiting room, Greyson does something to the door, sealing the last Mediators inside the control room. The ship tilts again as another level’s released. How many has that been?
“What are we going to do now?” I ask as we hurry towards the lifts.
“Get to L1 and ride it out.” Greyson runs a hand through his hair anxiously, his other arm still around his ribs. I duck under his arm, wrapping my own around him and his body sinks gratefully against me.
I see our reflections in the walls, disheveled, dusty and bruised.
“Glitch,” I swear and tug Greyson away from the closest lift door just as it opens and more Mediators spill out like bear-sized beetles.
Bryn? Chevette calls, breathless with fear. I keep my hand on his elbow, dragging him around the lifts to find somewhere to hide.
Yeah, I’m here.
Something’s wrong! We’re falling!
There’s a horrid groan and I can’t see. I blink and make out shadowy outlines. Chevette’s gone. My modes aren’t working, even the light that’s kept the shadows at bay. Greyson pulls his off and I copy him, hesitating only briefly before I drop them to the floor.
“It’s the Guardian. With no Cyberinth, folks are going to be wigging out!” Greyson hisses into my ear. In a haze of blue light, we hunker down between two couches as the whole Core sways. It only gets worse.
“So, if he can’t be boss, no one can? How screwed up is he?”
“Very. He’s unplugging us. It’ll be like removing a human spine. Our station will be scattered all over and we won’t be able to communicate. Worse, too, it’s connected to the glitching lifts. We aren’t going to make it to L1.”
Lenora
The lift shifts sideways, people whimpering or crying out, just as I’m disconnected from everything, from the Cyberinth, my database, from basic mode functions. Hugo. I squeeze my eyes shut. The panicked voices grow louder. Someone wails. I can barely hear them over my heaving breaths. Dread rolls in my stomach as I press myself up against the wall and away from the skittering mass of frightened people. I’m going to get crushed in here, if we don’t fall, if we don’t burn first.
Hugo? I try to send, however without my modes I’ve nothing to send or receive with. Is he gone? I steel myself, take a deep breath, and open my eyes. Hugo’s standing in from of me, his arms pressed against the wall on either side of my head, using his body as a shield against the people from Level Eight. I’ve no idea how he’s doing it. He’s still a virtual manifestation, yet my corner is protected from flailing arms and rolling bodies. It’s as though everyone else can see him too, even though nobody has a working set of modes.
“It’s okay, Nora. I’ve got you.” The lift starts up again, making the most dreadful sounds, inching upwards until finally, an eternity later, the doors open. Everyone spills out onto Level Seven, grasping and hanging desperately onto each other. It’s easy to encourage people towards the quadrants.
Once through, the airlocks seal as though they’d only been waiting for us. I stumble to a nearby tree, avoiding my father who’s calling out my name. The concrete branches are low, as though the tree is trying to embrace me. Hugo steps in close, arms outstretched to pin me in again.
“I wish I could hug you,” he whispers, leaning down so his lips move only millimetres from my cheek.
“You’re here with me,” I murmur, pushing off my useless modes and meeting his eyes, not even daring to blink. “That’s what matters most.”
Then the lights flicker off and we’re left in the dark.
Greyson
Chairs zip-whiz across the ugful carpet, magazines slither off tables and even the Mediators tumble past as the whole glitching ship tilts.
“Greyson? Bryn? You need to get to Level One! I’ll be releasing it in three minutes!” Nate says through the ship speakers, shrill-sharp and anxious.
“The lifts won’t open!” I hiss back. I can’t message, but I’m hoping Nate hears us anyways.
“I’m on it!” Nate replies, thank sky.
The Mediators are getting near spitting distance, their gloved hands clawing into chairs and couches. Lucky for them the things are bolted to the ground.
“They’re going to find us,” Bryn whispers.
“We need a distraction,” I say and Bryn, I swear myself blue, pulls away and ends elbow deep in her pockets again. It’s like they’re bigger on the inside, real legit, cos there isn’t much telling what’s in them. Then she digs out that marble. For a sec, Bryn seems wistful, like it’s a friend or some-such.
“This should do. You ready?” she warns and leans out of cover, drawing back her arm and pegging the marble as fierce-like as she can against the far wall. It shatters into dozens of sparkling shards – a green starburst of light. The Mediators jerk, great big armoured heads, all turning like scam viruses scenting a patchy firewall. Bryn’s thrown my arm over her shoulder and all but carries me towards the lifts.
“Nate!” I shout.
“Got it!” A lift door opens, wide enough for us to slip-slam in before it shuts behind us.
Another level releases out, out and away, and we’re heading down, jolt-jerking to a sharp stop, the lift opening on L1.
“Nate?” I call.
“I am God!” the AI chirps.
“Is L8 evac-ed?” I ask as Bryn ushers me quick as you please towards a quadrant. The streets are empty. Scared faces peer from windows.
“Yes. All safe and sound.”
“Thanks, Nate. You’re a legend,” Bryn says, and for a brief moment it’s like the air heats up, as if the AI’s blushing.
Bryn
We take shelter in a cafe, encouraging the terrified, sleekly-dressed patrons to follow us into a dimly lit pantry. I recognise MissDanikaStarburst from Activation Night, the stuffed black and white birds in her hair drooping in the increasing warmth of the level. Rank isn’t that important now. The shelves, stocked with pre-flavoured pods, dig into my shoulder blades, but hopefully the space is small enough to offer us some protection when we’re jettisoned.
We sit in silence. Zipper’s in Greyson’s lap with her eyes shut and whiskers quivering. Our level shakes as the quadrants are sealed and I can’t help letting out the tiniest whimper. My battle mindset has well and truly disengaged, adrenaline draining from my system and leaving me exhausted and afraid.
Greyson’s hand slips into mine. The grip is light, mostly around my fingers, as if to reassure me I can pull away if I want to. There’s never been anything I want less. I’m not entirely sure I remember how to breathe, and I inhale forcefully, sliding my fingers further into Greyson’s grip until our palms lock together snugly. My heart’s somewhere at the level of my throat.
I steel myself and look directly into his eyes for the first time. I’ve never seen such an electric blue in the real before. I lean closer, making out shards of bright silver and ripples of liquid mercury surrounded by a narrow ring of dark cobalt. His eyes blur as he swoops in, and it’s not until he’s pulling back that I register the soft, fleeting brush against my lips. I can’t read the look on his face, but – from the way his mouth twists and how he holds his breath – I know he’s nervous and a little hopeful, too.
I offer him a shy smile and squeeze his hand. His return grin is bright, and I go willingly when he tucks me under his arm, pressing me close along the strength of his body. His relieved sigh sends warm air across my cheek. Zipper manages to wink up at me, even with one busted eye.
“I’m glad we met,” I whisper as an awful clunking starts. “And if this is it …” the words stick in my throat.
“There’s nowhere else I’d rather be,” Greyson murmurs, and it’s enough to calm my churning fears. At least we’re not alone. No, it’s more than that. In this tiny box of a room, packed shoulder to shoulder with strangers, we’re connected.
NATE
“You’re not alone. I repeat. You are not alone. The other seedships made it. You’re not alone.”