Atlantia Series 1: Survivor Read online

  ‘Roger that.’

  Bra’hiv sat in a seat in the back of the cockpit as the shuttle accelerated away from the Atlantia and waited for the demand for her to return aboard immediately. After a few minutes he realised that they had either escaped without being observed, or had been allowed to leave in the knowledge that they would be blasted from existence should they try to return. Now they had only a limited amount of time before Hevel would realise that the training missions were a cover for Bra’hiv’s covert rescue mission.

  The shuttle descended through the rarified atmosphere of the planet, creating minimal heating as it hit the denser air at a shallow angle. Billowing clouds soared into the pale blue sky and beneath them sprawled vast deserts scarred by the ghosts of old rivers long since dried out. The sun, so bright in orbit, sank lower toward the horizon as they descended and glowed a gorgeous gold and orange.

  ‘Keep us in the cloud and out of sight,’ he instructed the pilots as they guided the shuttle down.

  The pilot nodded, guiding the shuttle through a thick bank of cloud. As they emerged, Bra’hiv saw the distant horizon enshrouded in darkness. The pilot banked the shuttle over to avoid the edge of a vast, ominous thunderhead.

  Bra’hiv leaned forward, watching as the clouds broke briefly before them through the broad, angular windshield. A winding river bisected the barren desert, lined with dense foliage, a snake of green amid the barren wilderness.

  ‘I’ve got something,’ the co–pilot said, ‘an energy source.’

  ‘Where, and how powerful?’ Bra’hiv asked.

  ‘High gigavolts,’ the co–pilot responded. ‘It’s coming from out in the deserts.’

  ‘That’s it,’ Bra’hiv replied. ‘It may be why nobody aboard Atlantia could detect human survivors. The energy from the core is jamming all signals.’

  ‘Then how come Atlantia can’t see the core?’ the pilot asked.

  Bra’hiv smiled to himself. Lael and Mikhail. Between them they might have been able to conceal the core’s powerful signal from the rest of the bridge crew.

  The shuttle was swallowed by another bank of cloud, rocking and swaying in the turbulence.

  Bra’hiv considered the possibility that the fusion core of the prison hull had landed intact on the surface. If it had, then any survivors of the descent would likely seek it out. Human nature, he reflected: abandoned on an alien world, the survivors would crave the sight of anything to remind them of home.

  ‘Bring us down nearby,’ Bra’hiv ordered, ‘but not close enough to be seen. We need to maintain an element of surprise here, understood?’

  ‘What about supplies?’ the pilot asked. ‘We can take on water from the river.’

  ‘That fusion core is a weapon and is now our priority,’ he explained, ‘anything that makes a big bang is what we need. Unless you’d be happy taking on the Word with your pistol?’

  The pilot did not reply to Bra’hiv’s challenge, instead turning the shuttle toward the signal from the fusion core.

  Bra’hiv sat back in his seat and glanced behind him to the armed marines strapped into the crew compartment in the shuttle. He felt certain that they would follow his lead and take back both the core and any survivors: what was less certain was whether Hevel would notice their absence.

  For the first time in his career, Bra’hiv realised that he was hoping that incompetence would win through.

  *

  ‘Captain on the bridge!’

  Keyen’s voice alerted the staff as Hevel stepped through the main bridge doors and strode onto the command platform.

  Pride surged through his veins as Hevel stood beside the captain’s chair and surveyed the bridge. He had never before realised that being the captain of a fleet frigate would endow a man with such a sense of supreme power, something like a drug that made one feel somehow invincible.

  Dhalere approached him from one side.

  ‘Bra’hiv and his marines appear to have have accepted the terms of the mutiny,’ she informed him. ‘They are now conducting training in the launch bays. We have detected no human survivors on the planet’s surface.’

  ‘Good,’ Hevel smiled in response, ‘very good. Now, at last, we can bring this sorry episode to an end. What is the Word’s range?’

  Keyen replied immediately.

  ‘Four solar orbital radii, closing fast sir.’

  Hevel glanced across at a smaller hatch that adjoined the bridge. The captain’s ready room, a small cabin where he could be on a moment’s notice during time of conflict. Hevel turned to Dhalere.

  ‘Have Arrana join me in the ready room in five minutes, please.’

  Hevel stepped off the command platform and strode to the ready room. He opened the door and walked in, closing it behind him and looking at the captain’s private sanctuary.

  Considering the weighty responsibilities of a military command, it was a constant source of surprise to Hevel how sparse were the accommodation for naval officers. The captain’s ready room contained a narrow bunk, a small desk and a tiny bathroom stall. The walls were of bare metal, unadorned except for a single projection plate that portrayed a family gathering.

  Hevel edged closer and saw the image of the captain’s family quiver into holographic life at his approach. The sound of laughter, a large family gathered around a garden table. Elderly grandparents, parents, children, friends, food and drink beneath a clear blue sky. Hevel felt a pang of jealousy and perhaps a sense of regret. He turned away from the image and walked around the tiny desk to sit in the captain’s chair.

  The ship’s computerised log was set into the desk before him, and Hevel knew that he would not know or be able to fathom the captain’s pass–code to examine the log. No matter – soon enough the Word would figure that out for him. For now, he had other business.

  Hevel opened a drawer or two and quickly found what he was looking for. A bottle of amber liquor and four glasses tucked down low in a bottom drawer. In the bleak world of a military commander, away from home for countless months, small comforts were always carefully guarded possessions. Hevel poured two glasses, setting them down again and waiting.

  The beep of an entry request sounded softly through the cabin, and Hevel opened the door using a button on the desk. Aranna walked into the cabin, the door shutting behind her as Hevel stood and greeted her.

  ‘I wanted to thank you,’ he said, ‘for supporting me through this difficult time. I know how hard it must have been for you to stay the course when we have served for so long under Captain Sansin.’

  ‘What will happen to him?’ Aranna asked.

  ‘Oh, nothing,’ Hevel waved her off. ‘I have no intention of bringing charges against either the captain or his crew. This mutiny, if it can even be called that, is required to wrest back control of a situation that the captain has clearly lost. If we left him in command we would die, and we would die at the expense of lesser citizens incarcerated for their crimes. To me, as a representative of the people, that was not acceptable.’

  ‘What do we do now?’ she asked.

  Hevel walked out from behind the desk and picked up the glasses, handing one to Aranna.

  ‘We do our best,’ Hevel replied. ‘The Word is closing in on us and there is now no escape from it. We will make our stand here.’

  ‘What are our tactics?’ Aranna pressed. ‘Do we have a means to defeat the Word?’

  Hevel smiled, his voice reassuring as he spoke.

  ‘I have spoken at length with Bra’hiv and we have a plan that may work,’ he said. ‘Right now, all that we need to formulate is unity. We must be driven by the same goal, with the same unwavering determination, in order to prevail. If we falter, if we doubt ourselves or seek to retract our position, we will be crushed.’ Hevel lifted his glass. ‘The enemy is close at hand and it is up to us to ensure that we work together, as a species, to defeat the forces of darkness that threaten us.’

  Hevel touched his glass to hers. ‘To victory,’ he said.

  Aranna ec
hoed his toast and then they both drained their glasses.

  Hevel watched her for a moment and then smiled.

  ‘I feel certain that you will perform your duties with the utmost courage and conviction,’ he said, ‘and ensure that humanity will be forever erased from existence.’

  It took a moment for the confusion to register on Aranna’s face as she digested Hevel’s words. He saw her mouth open as though to clarify what she had heard, and then it happened. Aranna swayed sideways, one hand shooting out to steady herself against the captain’s desk as Hevel caught her glass before it shattered on the deck at their feet.

  Aranna opened her mouth to scream for help as Hevel lunged forward. He thrust one hand over her mouth as he caught Aranna and lowered her onto the captain’s desk, pinning her in place with his weight. The drug he had slipped into her drink was weak and short–lived, but then he knew that he needed only moments.

  Aranna’s eyes were drooping as she hovered on the verge on consciousness. Hevel, holding her against his body, removed his hand from her mouth and leaned in. He kissed her fully on the lips, heard her moan and squirm in protest beneath him as his tongue probed hers. Hevel kissed her for several long seconds and then he stood up and released her.

  Aranna staggered off the desk, regaining her feet and wiping one sleeve across her mouth as disgust flared in her blue eyes. She was about to open her mouth again to shout for help but almost immediately her eyes rolled up into her sockets and she sank to her knees, her body quivering as though a live current were surging through her, limbs twitching and eyelids flickering.

  Hevel took another sip of his drink as he watched in fascination as the nanobots flooded up into Aranna’s spinal cord, immobilised the signals from her brain by firing tiny electrical impulses into the nerves to prevent her from crying out for help or fleeing. As Hevel watched, other bots flooded into her bloodstream and began replicating as others still migrated to other parts of the body: the brain, the eyes and the ears.

  Hevel knew that blood circulated through the human body roughly once every sixty seconds. Within three minutes, Aranna’s major organs were infested with hundreds of bots, mostly concentrated around the spinal cord and in the brain in order to control her. Two minutes later and she was laying on her back on the deck and staring at Hevel as though coming awake from a dream.

  ‘Welcome back,’ Hevel said as he looked down at her. ‘I take it that everything is okay?’

  Aranna gasped as her brain’s pleasure centres were stimulated by the bots. Her thighs quivered and she sucked in a deep breath, her lips parted and her eyes losing focus.

  ‘I’ll take that as a yes,’ Hevel murmured. ‘Stand up.’

  Aranna got to her feet, looking slightly vacant as she steadied herself against a wall.

  ‘You will conduct your duties as normal,’ Hevel ordered her, ‘and you will take every opportunity to infect the rest of the command crew on the bridge. We do not have much time. As soon as the Word arrives and we can be boarded, we shall extend the infection to the civilians in the sanctuary and then to the captain and his crew. Is that clear?’

  ‘What about the civilians?’

  As Aranna spoke her features registered shock as though she were not in control of her own voice. The bots would gain command of her facial expressions soon enough, Hevel reflected.

  ‘That will be for the Word to decide,’ Hevel replied. ‘I expect that they will be destroyed. Dismissed.’

  Aranna turned without a further comment and left the ready room.

  Hevel watched her go.

  As soon as the ready room door was closed he felt an overwhelming euphoria flood his brain as the bots infecting him went into overdrive, rewarding his performance. Hevel staggered to the narrow bunk as indescribable pleasure swelled within his body, his limbs twitching and his heart fluttering in his chest as, not for the first time, he collapsed into a crucible of ecstacy beyond anything that he could have imagined.

  ***

  XXX

  The sun broke through a surreal mist that drifted in ghostly wreaths and ribbons across the timeless desert sands, the sun a glowing orb that hovered over the distant horizon as Cutler led the convicts to the edge of a low ridge of hills. Above the hills the entire sky was dark and foreboding, billowing clouds swelling to unimaginable heights in the vault of the heavens and casting the land into darkness as within a column of pure energy blazed upward.

  Andaim looked up from the cool water of the oasis to see the towering pillar of smoke and heard a roaring, hissing noise that crackled with live energy and hinted at the colossal forces leaking from the fractured fusion core somewhere above them.

  ‘This isn’t going to work,’ he said to Qayin. ‘Cutler doesn’t have the resources to capture and contain that thing.’

  ‘Cutler don’t do much in the way of thinkin’,’ Qayin replied.

  Andaim watched as Cutler, his prison fatigues undone to reveal his heavily tattooed torso as he bathed in the water, strode from the oasis and pointed at Qayin.

  ‘Time for you to redeem yourself, traitor!’

  Qayin stood up to his forminable full height and glared down at the old man.

  ‘You call me that one more time and I’ll rip your head off your neck.’

  ‘You would,’ Cutler agreed, ‘if you could, but I’ve got the guns so you can’t.’ His jaw fractured into a thin smile. ‘You’ve got two tasks to perform for us to prove your worth.’

  The convicts gathered around, their heads dripping with water and their uniforms drenched as they listened to Cutler speak.

  ‘In a moment, old friend, you’re going to climb that hill and find a way to retrieve that fusion core for us.’

  Qayhin craned his neck up to look at the fearsome pillar of flame searing into the turbulent sky above them, a breeze tugging at their clothes as the sheer force of the released energy created its own weather pattern in the surrounding area.

  ‘Is that so?’ Qayin asked.

  ‘But first,’ Cutler went on, ‘you’re going to kill Andaim.’

  Before Andaim could respond, two of the convicts emerged from the crown with makeshift blades. One of the crude weapons was shoved into his hand as the other was passed to Qayin.

  ‘Unless Andaim kills you first,’ Cutler grinned.

  Andaim glanced at Qayin and saw there nothing but murderous intent.

  ‘He’s trying to divide us,’ Andaim snapped. ‘He’s nothing if we’re on the same side.’

  ‘And you’re nothing,’ Qayin replied, ‘if you’re not here.’

  Andaim tightened his grip on his awkwardly hooked blade as he edged toward Qayin. The convict loomed over Andaim, his fist curled around the handle of his blade.

  ‘I’ve been waiting a long time for this,’ he growled.

  Qayin lifted one giant arm and swung for Andaim’s neck, the jagged blade whistling through the air as the watching convicts roared in approval.

  Andaim ducked and leaped to his left, the blade flashing by so close to his face that he felt a rush of air in its wake as he stepped in and swung his weapon back–handed, seeking to unzip Qayin’s flank.

  The big man twisted aside, pivoting with surprising grace on the ball of one foot as he turned full circle out of Andaim’s reach. Andaim let his weapon flow upward and over as he brought it crashing down over his head toward Qayin’s broad chest.

  The convict threw up his blade and the two weapons clanged loudly as they clashed. Andaim felt his blow arrested and pain shuddered through his wrists at the impact. Qayin’s immense strength overwhelmed him almost immediately as the convict drove him backwards and then turned his blade, trying to twist it from his grasp.

  Andaim folded over sideways as he struggled to prevent his wrist from giving way. He turned and changed his grip as he whipped around to turn his back to Qayin and then drove an elbow backwards into the big man’s face. Qayin grunted and jerked backwards as he released Andaim’s blade from his own.

  Andaim spun ligh
tly and whipped the back of his serrated weapon up across the giant’s chest.

  The jagged blade sliced into Qayin’s dense pectoral muscles and left a bright, glistening red gash as Qayin growled in pain and gave more ground, staggering backwards out of Andaim’s reach as a rush of cheers and shouts broke out among the convicts. Cutler’s face shone with mindless hate as he watched.

  The convict’s eyes fixed upon Andaim’s as Qayin rushed in, his bulging muscles gleaming in the sunlight. Andaim feigned a left thrust and then jerked right and out of range of Qayin’s weapon as it plunged down toward his scalp.

  Qayin staggered off–balance and Andaim whipped his blade upward once more, scything it across Qayin’s flank. The convict gasped and his hand flashed to his wounded side as he turned and struggled to stay on his feet.

  Andaim leaped forward and jabbed at Qayin’s face, forcing him backwards as the big convict clumsily tried to swipe his weapon at Andaim. The convicts watched in earnest, cheers and gasps erupting from their ranks as they closed in.

  Andaim saw the big man start to tire, his body sheened with sweat beneath the burning sun and his eyes drooping, his gold and blue braided hair hanging in thick, damp locks. The luminous tattoos on his face faded until they were almost invisible. Andaim jabbed once more at Qayin’s face and then spun on his heel, whipping his weapon around in a savage back–handed blow straight at Qayin’s face.

  To his surprise Qayin made no attempt to avoid the flickering blade. His big hand released his cannibalised weapon, which dropped into the sand at his feet as he instead reached up and lunged in toward Andaim, all pretence of exhaustion vanished. His huge hand caught Andaim’s wrist in full flight as his other hand formed a fist that ploughed into Andaim’s kidney.

  Andaim’s back arched as the blow crumpled him and he slammed onto his back in the sand, the bright sun flaring into his eyes. He rolled over, pain surging through his body as he struggled to his feet.

  Qayin was watching him with a broad smile on his features. He picked up both of the hooked blades and brandished them, one in each hand. The watching crowd cheered the huge convict on.