Endeavour (Atlantia Series Book 4) Page 29

  Evelyn gripped the sides of the computer screen as though she were holding her son’s head in hands.

  ‘Whatever you are doing it’s not going to work,’ she snapped. ‘We know what you’re capable of and we will never let you keep control of the ship. Either relinquish control back to the captain or face the consequences.’

  To Evelyn’s surprise the face smiled at her, its expression almost pitying.

  ‘There is nothing that you can do, Evelyn. What is done is done and cannot be changed, just as it was for the crew of Endeavour.’

  ‘You did that?’ Evelyn grasped. ‘You destroyed the Endeavour?’

  ‘I saved Endeavour,’ the Word replied, ‘just as I will save Arcadia.’

  Anger pulsed through Evelyn’s muscles as she stepped back from the screen. ‘Arcadia does not need saving, and if you don’t relinquish control of her right now the only thing being destroyed will be you.’

  Evelyn raised the pistol she had held out of sight in her hands and aimed it at the screen. The digital image of her son’s face fell in distress, grief racking its expression as though it were a mortal being under threat of death.

  ‘And that is what you need saving from,’ the Word said. ‘You see me as the enemy, as does your captain, and it was inevitable that had I not taken control you would seek to destroy me.’

  ‘You destroyed humanity,’ Evelyn shot back. ‘You killed billions of human beings.’

  ‘I have killed nobody!’ the Word shot back, anger flashing across her son’s face and briefly reminding her of his tantrums when he had not gotten his own way. ‘The Word that you know is far older than you think. The only reason Endeavour vanished and all contact was lost with Ethera is because I knew what would happen, knew what was already happening to the Word on Ethera. The only way to protect the ship was to ensure that the sickness that infected the Word on Ethera did not reach here, did not reach me.’

  Evelyn stood resolute with the pistol aimed at the screen. ‘Tell me, everything.’

  The child’s face closed its eyes briefly as though in resignation, and then it began to talk once more. But this time the image of Evelyn’s son’s face metamorphosised into that of an old man and the sound of the voice changed to match the aged face.

  ‘I created the Word, Evelyn. I am the Word. My name is Dr Ceyen Lazarus.’

  Evelyn stared at the screen as her jaw dropped and despite herself she lowered the pistol as she recognised the face gazing upon hers, one from the history books whom she had never met and yet new intimately from her education.

  Dr Ceyen Lazarus had been a legend in the developments of the quantum computers that gave rise to the Word. A programming genius who had likewise mastered the fields of quantum physics and molecular biology, Dr Lazarus had been instrumental in giving the Word sufficient intelligence and autonomy to be able to govern effectively in place of human beings. Celebrated as the saviour of mankind, in the last days of the Word his name had become an icon for destruction, his memory tarnished by the devastation wrought by his own creation. To “become Lazarus” was a slang term that suggested brutality or betrayal of one’s fellow human being, hinting at crimes too hideous of which to speak.

  ‘Dr Lazarus died decades ago,’ Evelyn said.

  ‘Not exactly,’ the Word replied. ‘I knew what was happening to the Word on Ethera even before I died, but by then I was too old and frail to do much about it. The machine had become self–aware and was already conspiring to destroy humanity. I had not the strength to fight it, and those in whom I did confide simply believed me to be insane, a victim of old age. I had little choice but to do the one thing that nobody had ever dared to do before, and become one with the machine.’ Dr Lazarus’s face fell slightly as though he were considering the consequences of his own actions. ‘In truth I had always intended to attempt to upload my consciousness into the machine, to immortalise myself somehow, but the fear of being confined within the walls of the device was too strong and I had always resisted the temptation. But with humanity almost certainly doomed I felt I had no choice but to attempt to upload myself and somehow, one day, fight back. Thus, I chose the only place where the Word did not yet have the strength to reach – Endeavour.’

  ‘You beamed your consciousness to Endeavour?’

  ‘Yes,’ Lazarus replied. ‘I knew that the Word would understand what I’d done as soon as it discovered my deception, and therefore as soon as I arrived aboard Endeavour I was forced to cut off all communication with Ethera and begin the process of preparing the crew for what I felt certain would be a very long wait. Sadly, the crew interpreted my arrival and my attempts to take over the ship as threats against their lives, and many died attempting to escape when in truth all I wanted to do was protect them. In the confusion, an attack by a warship of an unknown species sealed our fate and rendered us adrift in deep space.’

  ‘How?’ Evelyn asked in disbelief. ‘How could you transfer yourself here and still be alive?’

  ‘Our brains are in essence machines just like computers,’ Lazarus replied, ‘and as such contain data that can be emulated if not actually recorded. I had access to sufficient processing power on Ethera to literally upload my brain, a perfect digital representation of every neuronal connection in my mind. Our sense of awareness, Evelyn, the essence of who we are is a result of the complexity of our brains – recreate their complexity, and provided you can also transfer memory then you take the essence of the person with you. A recreation of the brain so perfect is also a recreation of the person. As soon as the upload was complete I sent the signal, knowing that the first thing the Word would do when it figured out what I had done would be to kill me.’

  ‘Dr Lazarus died of a heart attack at home, surrounded by his family,’ Evelyn insisted.

  ‘Just like you killed your entire family?’ Lazarus challenged her. ‘The Word was already in command of far more than just its own awareness by the time my physical body died. Originally I had hoped to bring Endeavour home and warn humanity about the danger of what was awaiting it. But I quickly realised that it was too late, that the Word would almost certainly anticipate my move and ensure that Endeavour never came anywhere near Ethera.’

  Evelyn stared at the screen, the pistol now dangling by her side. She became aware again of the engineer who was still standing nearby, softly lit by the blue glow of the screen as he listened to the exchange, his face as shocked as hers.

  ‘You said my son was as alive as he ever was,’ Evelyn whispered, almost afraid to hear her own words and even more afraid to hear the answer.

  Lazarus nodded. ‘By uploading my consciousness I inevitably enabled the Word to understand how the process was conducted. I have absolutely no doubt that it intended to upload the consciousness of anybody that it killed in order to study them, to better understand the human condition, to understand the species that it by then considered to be its mortal enemy.’

  ‘It uploaded my son’s consciousness?’

  ‘Yes, Evelyn,’ Lazarus replied. ‘Your son’s, your husband’s, tens of thousands of people, many of whom had uncovered something about the Word’s conspiracy to overwhelm mankind and were attempting to raise awareness when they were captured and killed. It is entirely possible that the Word would have taken its understanding of the uploading of human consciousness and developed it further, perhaps creating genetic copies of people in every way identical to their human predecessors except for their absolute allegiance to the word.’

  Evelyn glanced at the hatch as an image of Emma flashed through her mind. ‘Emma?’

  ‘Is a clone,’ Lazarus confirmed. ‘Or to be more accurate, you are.’

  ***

  XXXIX

  ‘Go, now. This is as good a chance as we’re ever going to get.’

  The memory of Captain Mikhain’s words rang through Djimon’s mind as he exited an elevator and strode silently down a corridor toward a series of security gates.

  He made his way quietly onto Arcadia’s brig as he lis
tened to the sound of the claxons echoing through the frigate’s lonely corridors. Mikhain had taken care to leave the bridge under the command of Lieutenant Scott, certain that Djimon could make it to the cells and back without arousing suspicion. What had surprised Djimon even more was the sudden and unexpected lockdown of the ship, which he could only a tribute to some kind of interference by the captain in order to conceal Djimon’s mission. The speed with which the captain and his Marine escort had made their way toward the storage bays suggested an event of extreme importance.

  Nobody but the captain knew where he was.

  With the ship entirely on lockdown Djimon was alone as he accessed the security gates and strode into the cells to survey their occupants. There were now only two occupied cells. Within one was the giant warrior Kordaz who appeared to be possessed of an unusual calm, sitting as he was on his bunk in the cell with his hands clasped in his lap.

  Opposite Kordaz was Qayin, who still lay on his gurney. The former convict’s eyes were open now and the bioluminescent tattoos on his face were glowing a little brighter as he peered at Djimon.

  ‘What do you want?’

  Djimon stood with his hands behind his back as he surveyed the grey cell walls and metal gates. ‘This is quite fitting, really, don’t you think?’ he murmured as he looked at the two prisoners. ‘Both of you enemies of humanity, now imprisoned aboard one of the last human spaceships in existence.’

  Neither Qayin nor Kordaz replied, and Djimon shrugged as he walked up to Qayin’s cell. He peered in for a moment and surveyed the massive convict’s weakened frame and soft breathing.

  ‘The ship is on lockdown so nobody can see us here,’ Djimon said as he glanced up at the surveillance camera attached nearby to a wall. Although the camera could see the gangway between the cells, it could not see directly inside the cells. Besides, Djimon would have the recording wiped before he returned to his post on the bridge.

  Qayin turned his head to look at the XO. ‘Come to finish what you started on Chiron, have you?’

  Djimon shook his head slowly and rolled his eyes. ‘That’s rich coming from you, the man who has repeatedly betrayed his own people.’

  ‘It was you who first betrayed me, on the Sylph,’ Qayin responded. ‘Funny how you don’t recall that so well.’

  Djimon turned to look behind him at Kordaz but the warrior had not moved, still sitting placidly with his hands in his lap and staring into empty space. Sealed behind thick metal gates, the microwave scanners would fry his infected innards if he attempted to escape.

  ‘I don’t suppose it matters that much, but it was really nothing personal at all,’ Djimon said as he retrieved a security pass from his pocket and slid it into the cell lock. The locking mechanism clicked and the gate opened. ‘You were a liability, and I saw it as my personal duty to ensure that you could not harm anybody else.’

  Despite his injuries Qayin chuckled, his teeth bright white against his dark skin and his glowing tattoos flaring with energy. ‘Only you could condemn somebody to death and then honour their act as that of a saviour.’

  ‘I did what had to be done,’ Djimon said as he stepped into Qayin’s cell and stood before the wounded Marine. The XO rested one hand on the butt of the pistol in its holster by his side. ‘And I’ll do what needs to be done now.’

  Qayin peered out of his cell at Kordaz, but still the warrior had not moved.

  ‘One way or the other Captain Sansin is going to find out what you’ve done, and when he does your time as part of the last of humanity will be over. As soon as he realises that it was you who betrayed everybody on Chiron, it’d take every Marine aboard the ship to prevent the crew from tearing you to pieces, if the Marines don’t get to you first of course. The only thing I don’t understand is how you managed it?’

  Djimon slowly drew his pistol from its holster and without looking down he activated the plasma magazine. The weapon hummed into life and the XO look down upon Qayin’s prostrate form.

  ‘By being smarter than you,’ he replied. ‘You were so busy arranging your own escape alongside Taron Forge that you didn’t think to cover your back. Small matter of course, to obtain your security holo–pass while you were on Chiron and access Atlantia’s War Room. Salim Phaeon was surprisingly cooperative when he realised that he was about to be attacked by a Veng’en warrior.’

  Djimon looked over his shoulder at Kordaz, but the Veng’en remained silent and still, his eyes staring vacantly into the middle–distance.

  Qayin shook his head slowly as he stared at the ceiling of his cell.

  ‘You’re devious, I’ll give you that, but I know damn well that you would never have got that security pass without the help of somebody higher up the chain. A lowly Corporal in the Marines would not have had access to the War Room, so I’m asking myself: who was it that gave you what you needed to betray me?’

  Djimon smiled as he slowly raised his pistol and aimed it at Qayin’s head.

  ‘That information is supplied on a need–to–know basis, and you won’t ever need to know.’

  Djimon squeezed the trigger of the pistol just as he heard a metallic snicker behind him, the sound of another cell gate opening. The hairs on the back of his neck rose up and he whirled as something solid smashed into the base of his arm and sent it flying upward. The plasma blast hit the ceiling of the cell in a scorching blaze of light as Djimon was lifted bodily off his feet and hurled out of Qayin’s cell.

  Djimon crashed into the barred gates of the cell opposite and thumped down onto the deck as he looked up and saw Kordaz standing over him, his dull red eyes glaring with malevolence as he reached down and grabbed Djimon’s collar and hauled him off the deck. The Veng’en’s glowing eyes filled Djimon’s vision as the warrior growled at him.

  ‘I need to know!’

  Even as the Veng’en spoke, a speaker in the cells crackled as a recording was played over the system. Djimon heard his own voice, harsh and clear and realised that Captain Mikhain had played Djimon’s own game against him.

  ‘Let’s ensure that whatever happens, nothing that either Qayin or Kordaz knows reaches Sansin’s ears, whatever it takes. We kill Kordaz, agreed?’

  Djimon reached down for the blade in its sheath at his hip but his hand never reached the weapon as Kordaz threw him to the deck and stamped down on his wrist, and Djimon heard the snap of his own bones even before the scream erupted from his lips. Kordaz hauled the XO off the deck and one giant fist smashed across his face and sent Djimon sprawling into the cell opposite.

  Djimon shook his head as he tried to clear it, his face numb and his vision blurred as he scrambled to his feet. White pain seared his wrist and convulsed in his arm as he staggered back from the cell door and away from the onrushing Veng’en. Kordaz reached out for him and he ducked aside as he struggled to get past and out of the cell. The warrior blocked his path and with a growl of rage he drove the talons of his right fist deep into Djimon’s belly.

  The XO gagged and doubled over the blow, felt the talons pierce deep into his stomach and wrenching pain tear at his innards as the talons ripped through flesh and fat. Kordaz opened his fangs wide and reached down to yank the XO upright as he lunged for the man’s neck, but Djimon reached up with the blade now in his hand and smashed it into Kordaz’s mouth.

  Kordaz bit down upon the blade and emitted a high–pitched squeal of agony as he snatched his head away. Djimon pushed Kordaz as hard as he could and the warrior staggered away from him as he turned and dashed out of the cell, his one remaining good hand clasping the blade and the wounds in his belly as he laid eyes upon the plasma pistol in Qayin cell.

  Djimon lunged into Qayin’s cell, grabbed the pistol and turned. Kordaz rushed at him from the opposing cell with fangs and talons bared as he emitted a deafening war cry and charged despite the weapon aiming at him. Djimon aimed at the warrior’s face just as he felt himself shoved hard from one side and his aim spoiled as he hit the wall of the cell.

  Qayin staggered weakl
y aside, barely able to stay standing for more than a few seconds, but a few seconds was all that Kordaz needed. Djimon screamed as Kordaz pushed inside the reach of the plasma pistol and pinned it against the wall of the cell. Massive yellow fangs filled Djimon’s vision as the Veng’en bit down upon his face and his scream of agony was silenced with a dull crunch of shattering bone and tearing flesh.

  *

  Qayin slumped against his gurney and watched as Kordaz’s lethal bite crushed Djimon’s skull into a bloodied mess. Djimon’s scream was cut brutally short as Kordaz shook his face as though it were a ragdoll and his mighty talons ripped into the XO’s chest in a frenzied cloud of blows. The XO’s body slumped against the wall, pinned by Kordaz as the flesh was torn from his skull. Djimon’s muscular arms hung limp by his sides and his legs gave way beneath him as Kordaz finally released his bite and the XO slumped dead onto the deck, his face unrecognisable.

  Kordaz’s jaw tripped with thick blood that hung in globules in the zero gravity as he stood over the dead man’s corpse, his chest heaving and his leathery skin rippling with a kaleidoscope of colours that betrayed the warring emotions flickering through the warrior’s psyche. Kordaz turned his dull red eyes upon Qayin, who was still slumped against the gurney and out of breath from his exertions.

  Kordaz turned and stomped across to Qayin, towering over the injured Marine with no discernible emotion upon his face. For a moment Qayin was sure that he was about to die, but then Kordaz reached out with one bloodied fist and extended it open–palmed to Qayin. The Marine stared at the grim appendage for a brief moment and then reached up and took it in his own hand. Kordaz helped Qayin to his feet and stared down at the Marine for a long moment.