Red Zone - 20
A Novel
III
Scissors
25.61.045 JD
(October 21st, 2299 OC)
1
Boom.
But not boom boom. One sonic boom means ground-based scramjets, not gunships from orbit.
He opened his eyes, and they were his eyes. Above, again, the roof of the waiting area. It could only have been a few minutes.
“You need to get up now, we have to evacuate, no one can be left behind.”
He scanned the sky and saw the supercontrails left by scramjets.
“Those are ground-based from HongJing.” If I could find out what time it is, it might tell me how long after the Black Elephants arrived the scramble took place.
He rolled up and stood up. The lower gravity of Mars made this easy for his Earth-toned muscles. He could tell that Keisha was looking at him in that way, even if just for a moment.
He is a survey, people were pushing and shoving to get out, yelling prices. Lines on Mars don't get longer, they get wider. Now I see where that expression comes from.
Then the voice of the avatar cracked.
“This is not going to be a slush wrestle.” It boomed with that enhancement from his suit. It seemed to come from everywhere in his body and from everywhere in the air. The physics of it were not difficult, but the effect of it was a spell. Almost all the pushing stopped, almost all of the cries died away. A circle opened up around him.
“You will lifo.[1] This is a warning, not a request.”
A tall broad colonist, wearing insignia for pure han, and Martian first family walked straight through that invisible line.
“Listen brain-in-a-can, we are going to do this the Martian way according to the rand,[2] and that means auctioning off slots.”
There were a few isolated cries of “The Rand!”
Another two people began closing in past the circle.
“Then you can give me all your money because I own the only means of escape. Both from this station and from this life.”
“How do you come to that conclusion? I've got a propsleigh right outside.”
The avatar stared down about 4 kilometers of nose at the colonist.
“I own the door. I am the door.” He took a deep sighing breath and intoned: “Begin. Lifo. End. Execute.” The air itself vibrated.
With that people, almost involuntarily, but fluidly and naturally, began lining up at the exits. Children first, then older and older. Clusters became rows, rows became a line. People began filing out the exits and into robotic transports.
The avatar walked up to the colonist, now in line.
“You should read the Colonization Agreement more carefully. It has colonists numbered, for just such emergencies.”
The colonists glared. “We will galt you for this.”
The avatar continued: “An agreement is an agreement. And in any event, what do you think is holding off the bombing? Your money?”
There were only a few figures not queuing up: emergency personnel, the Jovians Marine, Deeshandir, and Keisha. Keisha, because she was missing. Deeshandir looked around. He had just been talking to her. How does she do that?
Tony came jogging up to him, practicing in space-consuming strides in low gravity.
“Where's your girl Deesh? Looks like a bug out is in progress.”
“I cannot see her. The scramjets are clearly a warning.”
“Why no gunships from orbit?”
“I think the Dominion's logistical capacity is already strained facing the threat from Hyperion, and, I think, there is a hope that a show of force will get the colonists back into line.”
“Let me know how this schlock and guffaw plan works out.”
“Sorry, my Terringlish is not good enough to follow your jokes.”
“Buzzing this place with planes is a joke, and the colonists are laughing at it.”
“Your assessment seems to be depressingly comprehensive.”
“Well, what we don't have here, is a plan.”
“Scenario blank.”
“So, what would you be doing if you were her?”
We can't leave anyone behind. A flash of the misshapen cephalopods on Shackleton flashed through his brain.
“Avatar. There is a nursery here, where is it?”
“I am not sure you should go there.”
“Load the directions to me.”
There was that brief itching feeling of a fast upload, and he set off, the Jovians one-half step behind him. It is probably too late.
Overhead the next formation of scramjets screamed, the dome rumbled slightly under the shockwaves, but, as yet, they did nothing else. They will have to do more than that to unnerve this lot. He reached an oval shape which was the entrance to a service elevator, it went down, deep into the rock. The nursery will be deep underground to protect it from radiation. He waited, and it slid open with a slow hissing sound. He stepped in, and Tony flew in, hit his hands against the back wall, hit his boots against the ceiling, and then dropped down on the floor. I really shouldn't stare at him like that, but that is an amazing move. His limbs felt leaden and heavy. He could tell he was short on oxygen.
“What?” The Jovians looked at him with a half-mocking smile.
“We don't learn that in my part of the service.”
The door hissed shut and began moving down. Let me try one of the speed overrides. There was a lurch downward, but seconds were torture.
“I'm assuming, Deesh, that there is some reason for this hurry.”
“She's going to kill the infants who can't be taken.”
“What parent would leave their infant to be slaughtered by the heavies.”
“One who can't afford it.”
“That's sick.”
“No, that's the virtue of selfishness.”
“And these people think they can run the planet?”
After a short ride, the door hissed open, they were out, Deeshandir first, the Jovians following. There was a huge security door, and off to the left the large freight loader, which probably went directly to one of the carrier tracks. The security door was locked. Deeshander placed his hand over the security plate but knew that no code he had, would open this door. Instead, he could only open a view to the security system, which presented to his mind's eye a view of the tangle of rooms and corridors. They were overwhelmingly white, and lit by a very soft, but relatively sun natural, glow. There were medical rooms, far more than one would think for a nursery.
“What are you seen Deesh? Do you want me to try and break the door?”
“With what?”
“Brute force if needed.”
While holding one eye on the Jovan, he tried to scan with the other. His head swelled with pain, and he only had a vague idea of where the large incubator room was.
“No, let me try something.”
Keisha, I know you are on this channel.
I am, but you aren't going to stop me. You know this needs to be done. You know. You can't stop it. These are children. This is murder.
This is mercy.
He got a glimpse of what she was seeing with her eyes. It was, close up, a face. Or something that might be a face if it were arranged correctly. The outline was not round but looked as if one half had been melted upwards into a soft point on the right. The lips were curled back, exposing teeth pointed outwards. The left bulged without lids, the right eye was nearly shut. The skin was several gradations of color, but smoothly from one to the other.
He dropped the link and bowed his head.
“What did you see?”
He wanted to reply, but could not, he was locked in remembering the tanks of growing experimental creatures from Shackleton, over and over.
The Jovians wasted little time but pulled out a cylinder about 10cm long and 2cm in diameter, it had a handgrip, but few other signs of what it was, other than a kind of slipper midnight blue color. Tony pulled it back like a spear behind his ear and pointed it at the lock. There was a flash, and a neat hole was punched straight through it, without even carbonization along the edges.
The door slid open.
“I knew it would listen to reason.” Venkatesh stood up straight. I must have been doubled over.
“You holding together Deesh?”
Nod. Perhaps if all the gremlins in my mind hold hands. He looked down the corridor, it was a rectangle with the edges cut into triangles, made of sections that seemed to fold out forever. Enough of that.
He tore down the hall towards where Keisha was. He was not sure why, whether to stop her or help her. I could use something to clear my head.
As they tore along a girl in a thin robe clopped in front of them, her slippers shuffling. A mass of tangled hair hid her face until she turned to them. There were snarling teeth, and it was obvious that one eye was much higher than the other. They ran around her and ran down the high hallway.
One more turn, and they stopped. To the left was a large transparent pane of ceramic, and to the right a series of fluid suspension intensive care pods. The pane was darkened, in that reflective obsidian black way of dim light, but with the implication that it would be possible to see with the right focus of attention. The tanks had various suspended figures, most of which were possessed of severe deformities. The shock was doubled since, ordinarily, his suit would have taken the edge off of it, giving him time to process.
The Jovians let out a yelp. Deeshandir surveyed the scene and saw Keisha methodically pulling down levers of the old heavy style. This was meant to make it a deliberate act, the weight of doing so inflicted. She pulled with almost her full body downwards. One by one they click into place. Klaxon alarms, that ancient sound that was like a call to worship, poured from every direction. In old Terringlish a soothing, feminine voice began intoning times in seconds, and warnings repeated. It was a chant to bring about the end of worlds.
“Sterilization process initiated.”
“And counting t minus 1 minute until sterilization protocol.”
“Sterilization protocol. Code Orange. All personnel to safety zones.”
“58. 57. 56. 55. 54. 53.”
With this last Keisha slid to the floor. Faces pressed against the obsidian pane that would soon separate the quick from the dead, eyes, and cheeks deformed on top of deformity. On the floor, Keisha was sobbing.
Deeshandir tried to lift her up.
“Go away! Let me die here!”
The Jovians looked around.
“This is wobbed, people. You have ample credits with our banks from what you sell. What is going on here.”
“43. 42. 41.”
“We've got to go.”
“Let me die!” She slapped away his hand. No choice. And with that, he slung her over his shoulder and carted her to the exit elevator at the far side. More faces and eyes pressed against the pane. There was increased bubbling inside the tanks. His muscles screamed at him, acid was building up, and there were cramps. Sadly, nothing to do but bear it.
“You must follow, and quickly, you can't break the switches, they are too stupid.”
There was no movement, and then the sound of the Jovians catching up.
“Sterilization protocol initiated. Final sequence in 30. 29. 28. 27. 26. 25. 24. Last warning. All personnel are to be in safe zones.”
The blare shut off as soon as the door snapped shut in the small round elevator. The door's incredible thickness and construction from heavy metals made sense. The only indication of what was happening beyond was a red display that read counting down time and characters that read “Danger: Sterilization.” And then a yellow one which said:
“Override Entry Only.”
“10.” “9.” “8.” “7.” “6.” “5.” “4.” “3.” “2.” “1.”
And a ghastly silence.
“Will one of you dirtsiders tell me why we just flushed those unfortunates to hell?”
Keisha's face was sobbing into Deeshandir's shoulder.
“Those were the children no one would claim.”
“There's no excuse for that. We could ship them the biologics to stop that. And the tech is so old as to be traditional.”
Deeshandir looked at Tony.
“Their parents are too poor.”
“What about the polis?”
“It's against their way.”
There was another ghastly pause.
“You dirtsiders are just not right in the head. That's the flesh of your flesh.”
Deeshandir patted the back of Keisha's head. She bawled from her huddled position.
“I tried to keep them alive. I tried. Is that so wrong? To cure them as we can? Please tell me I am not a bad person, V. Please.”
“K, I do not know what to say that would in any way comfort you.”
The Jovians stared at the ceiling, his skin reddened with anger.
“Do not be so angry, the Black Elephants would have done much worse.”
“I tried. Please tell me it was enough.”
There was silence.
“I am in no position to render moral judgments.”
In his mind's eye, he remembered the cephs killing the experiments, and destroying their young rather than being taken captive. He remembered the spattering of blue, the slicing, the strange whirring sounds of their language as it echoed in Shackleton station air.
It was the eyes, they bulged out and stared for a million years through his.
The road in silence to the surface
[1] Last in First Out
[2] “According to Ayn Rand” By auction.