Thirdspace, p.10
Thirdspace, page 10
"Better check those struts, make sure they're ready to hold this thing," Kuehler warned him. "I don't want to mess with this twice."
"Roger that. Stand by," said Baldwin.
Kuehler lifted his hands away from the controls that were manipulating the front-mounted forklift so that he didn't accidentally bump them and perhaps run into something that he shouldn't. As he waited for Baldwin to double-check the support struts of the already-constructed section of the framework, something caught his eye. He wasn't entirely sure what was going on.
Three dozen of the maintenance 'bots had joined up with each other. Not a physical merge, but rather what appeared to be a bizarre sort of strategic merge. They had arranged themselves into a flying wedge formation. It was as if they had suddenly taken it into their heads that they were geese about to fly south for the winter.
Kuehler blinked several times to make sure that he wasn't imagining it. Nope. There they still were. "Hey Control? What's with the 'bots?" demanded Kuehler. He already had an open line to C&C-necessary, since Trent had promised Sheridan that she would keep him and his people apprised of every single move that was made in connection with the artifact. Kuehler had not quite understood the need to keep C&C on line every step of the way. Seemed a bit anal retentive to him, and he had the funny feeling that she was doing it just to be snide. Not that he would have admitted that to her. Now, though, it was coming in handy, because if C&C had chosen that moment to start engaging in some sort of weird 'bot maneuvers, it would be considerate of them to bring the technicians into the loop.
The reply from C&C, however, was disheartening on that score. "What about them?" came the clearly confused voice from C&C.
"You mean you're not doing that?" demanded Kuehier.
That was when the welders and electrical soldering relays flashed into the active position. Even Kuehier, from his comparatively lousy vantage point, could see the maintenance 'bots firing up. He felt clueless, helpless to explain just what was going on.
And then the flying wedge began to move. And even in the darkness of space, its path was immediately discernable.
"Mayday, C&C," Kuehier shouted through the link. "They're on a collision course! I repeat, they're going to ram the artifact!" He was correct. The flying wedge was angling straight toward the artifact, the 'bots with their electrics coursing and their welders dancing with fire.
And there wasn't a damned thing that anyone in the flying forklifts could do except watch in frustration as the unstoppable battalion charged the artifact...
... doing so in a desperate attempt to save Humanity.
And Humanity, for its part, naturally opted to try and destroy that which might well be its only salvation.
Chapter 9
"C&C ... we can't override the 'bots!" shouted an extremely alarmed Kuehler. "You've gotta stop them!"
And then a confident voice said, "We've got it! Stay clear!"
The new voice on the link caught Kuehler off guard. Not bothering to check with the instrumentation on his panel before him, Kuehler twisted around in his seat and caught sight of about four or five Starfuries coming toward them. It was hard to tell exactly how many it was since they were moving so quickly.
"Target and fire at will," said Marlette, serving as squad leader since Susan Ivanova-lucky her-actually had slept her way through a crisis, for once.
The 'bots had converged upon the artifact, were moving extremely quickly. Even if their power drained, they would continue to move at high speed without the benefit of friction to slow them down. With momentum alone, they could do serious damage. Perhaps even irreparable.
The Starfuries descended toward the 'bots, blasting away at anything that appeared to be moving. Several of the 'bots tried to avoid the weapons fire. That action alone was enough to catch Marlette's interest, because 'bots in general were very singular in purpose. Sure, there were 'bots that had built-in avoidance capability, but those were usually of the exploratory variety and far more sophisticated than the straightforward, single-task 'bots that had been stationed around the artifact to aid in the creation of the framework. These 'bots should have about as much independent survival instinct as a toaster. Combat tactics and evasive maneuvers simply weren't part of their programming.
Yet here they were, doing everything they could to avoid the attack of the Starfuries.
In fact, one of the 'bots was so resourceful and sneaky that it actually managed to slip past the line of fire and was about to smash into the artifact. How much damage a collision by a single 'bot would have done was debatable, but Marlette made certain that it was moot by targeting and blasting apart the 'bot just short of its target.
"Delta Leader to C and C ... targets destroyed," said Marlette. "You'd better get someone down to Maintenance, find out what the hell happened."
"We're on it," came the reply from C&C. Zack was so tired that he hadn't even managed to, or bothered to, take off his uniform. He'd pulled off his jacket and sat down on the edge of his bed with the intention of removing his shoes. Unfortunately for him, as he leaned back he'd sort of tumbled backward onto the bed and discovered that lying there, arms outstretched, was far preferable to doing just about anything else. He'd actually drifted off to sleep for five minutes. And it was the first five minutes he'd had since he'd gotten off the transport when he wasn't feeling like a complete jerk for the way he'd mishandled the business with Lyta. Had he actually managed to reach full REM sleep and lapse into dreams, he probably would have dreamt of Lyta standing over him laughing contemptuously, pointing and sneering. So it was probably better that he wasn't asleep long enough for that to happen. The sharp beep from his link jolted him awake. He moaned softly as he tapped it, not even bothering with a response much beyond, "Yeah?"
"Security, this is C and C," came over the link. "We have a problem with the 'bots."
"And why isn't this a Maintenance problem?" he asked, looking for any excuse to fob it off onto someone else so he could get some sleep.
"Because a group of 'bots went berserk and attacked the artifact, and our calls to Maintenance aren't being responded to. Sabotage hasn't been ruled out."
That bit of news instantly snapped Zack to full wakefulness. At night, the Maintenance control room was more or less unattended, left to run on automatic systems. However, in order to avoid any potential security problems, a night-shift security guard was left on duty there. It was considered one of the easier posts: in all the years of the station's operation, no one had ever actually made any sort of assault on the Maintenance control room. And the guard who had that post had a clear view in all directions, so anyone sneaking up on him would be seen coming a mile off. There shouldn't really have been any problem down there.
Clearly, however, there was.
Zack yanked his jacket back on as he said over his link, "I'm on it." He bolted out the door, first trying to raise the guard, McAvennie, who was on duty at Maintenance that night. But McAvennie wasn't answering, just as C&C had said, and Zack quickly alerted a security squad. Half a dozen men met him on a dead run about a hundred feet away from the Maintenance control room as Zack stepped out of the transport tube.
"Miller, Jankowski, hang back, seal off this section; the rest of you with me," Zack said. No one would have suspected that he'd been effectively dead to the world five minutes earlier.
They approached the control room and discovered McAvennie unconscious on the floor, the pressure door sealed. Zack was no doctor, but he'd been at his job long enough to be able to discern severe injuries, and there didn't seem to be any on McAvennie. In fact, there were no marks of any kind. McAvennie hadn't been shot, and there was no mark of any impact. No swelling on his skull, nothing. It was as if he'd simply lapsed into unconsciousness for no reason.
"He's okay," Zack said, although he wasn't precisely sure just why McAvennie was okay. He certainly wasn't about to knock it, however, nor was he going to take it for granted. "Jason, get a med team up here, just to be sure."
He moved to the door and tried to open it. As he'd thought when he'd looked at it, it was locked. "No problem," he muttered as he tapped a security override command into the keypad next to the door.
"Security override nonfunctional," the computer informed him. "Problem," he said under his breath. He wasn't ecstatic about the idea of going in shooting. What if some innocent civilian was inside? But he didn't see any choice in the matter. He levelled his PPG and said, "Take it down."
The other guards unleashed their fire power upon the door. Within seconds they had blown it clear of the door frame. It slammed to the floor like a two-ton anvil, and the light from the hallway flooded the interior of the darkened room, giving the entire area a feeling of eeriness.
Zack didn't lower his PPG. Instead he kept it ready and remained alert for any possible problem as he stepped inside first, hoping that his eyes would adjust fast enough to the darkness and annoyed with himself that he hadn't grabbed some infrared or night-vision devices on his way down. "Lights," he said, but- to his lack of surprise-the computer didn't respond. The room remained darkened, save for a single hanging lamp that was swinging back and forth from the middle of the ceiling, still moving from the impact of the door being blasted inward.
Then he noticed something, or someone, apparently crouched in a corner of the room. For a moment the arc of light from the swinging lamp caught the corner, and Zack couldn't quite believe that he'd accurately seen what he'd thought he saw.
"Lyta... ?"
She moved her position ever so slightly, and this brought her more into the light from the corridor outside. Her new location made it easier for him to see her, which was also much more alarming, considering that she was sweating profusely and wearing an expression that made her a candidate for cover girl of Dementia Monthly.
For a bleak moment Zack remembered how he'd wished that he could be trying to deal with Lyta while she was aiming a weapon at him. That a direct threat like that was something he could handle. He had forgotten the old proverb, which pounded through his head now with contemptuous glee: Be careful of what you wish for. You may get it.
As it turned out, the crazed, sweat-covered Lyta Alexander was indeed holding a PPG on him. Zack had kicked himself mentally, for in the rush of things, he'd forgotten to check to see whether McAvennie still had his weapon on him. At this point, Zack was reasonably sure that the answer was no. It was clear what had happened. Lyta somehow had dropped McAvennie telepathically. Perhaps she'd just reached into his mind and shut down all the neural pathways. There was no way to know for sure.
What Zack did know was that he was in mortal danger from a person whom he really didn't want to hurt. That put him at a decided disadvantage.
Zack slid his PPG into its holster and put his hands in front of him, palms up. "Lyta," he said in what he hoped was a soothing voice. He saw that her hands were trembling, but he was certain that it wasn't because of fear of him. He wasn't sure that she even knew he was in the room.
"We have to stop it..." Lyta whispered.
He nodded, as if in agreement. "Okay. Okay ... we'll get on that. Stop ... what?"
"We have to stop it..." she said again. "Have to ..." And then her body convulsed and she pitched forward, the PPG sliding from her fingers. She hit the floor just as Zack got there, and he called loudly, "Where's that med team?"
Her clothes were soaked through and she was trembling. Sensing the nearness of another Human, Lyta clutched at him blindly and held tight.
So Zack got another one of his wishes: to be holding Lyta in his arms. But it wasn't exactly the way that he had planned it.
Chapter 10
Zack stood on the other side of the plexi, watching as Lyta was checked over by Franklin inside medlab. She glanced his way at one point and smiled wanly, even giving him a thumbs-up. It was an odd thing for him to see, and he couldn't figure out what the hell had happened with her. Had she been planning this... this act of sabotage the entire time? Had she known about it in the transport tube when he'd been speaking with her? Had that been the reason for her silence: guilty conscience? She'd known what she was going to do and simply couldn't face the man who might be most responsible for making sure that she didn't succeed?
Or was she ill? That was certainly another plausible explanation. For the woman who was lying on the table in medlab at this point bore absolutely no resemblance to the sweaty, desperate, and frightened individual who'd been waving a PPG at him. She seemed calm, composed, albeit a bit nervous, as if she couldn't quite figure out just what she was doing there.
Zack glanced to the right and saw Sheridan approaching him. He nodded in acknowledgment and went back to watching Franklin's treatment of Lyta.
"Been here a while, Zack?"
"Not too long. Fifteen, twenty minutes," Zack said with a shrug.
"Two hours, actually." "You're up late yourself," Zack noted.
Now it was Sheridan's turn to shrug. "That's why they pay me the big money. Of course," he added, "considering that we've broken off from Earth, it's not like they're still paying me a salary. But I plan to get by on my considerable charm."
"Oh. Right." That was ironic to Zack, who'd been commenting just earlier to Lyta how he wasn't bringing in the kind of salary the captain did. He nodded. "Well... you do what you gotta do, I guess," which really wasn't particularly relevant to anything, but he felt like he should say something.
"And what you've got to do is get some shut-eye. Lie down before you fall down."
"If it's ail the same to you, Captain..." Zack started to protest.
But Sheridan wasn't about to hear it. "Actually, it's not all the same to me, Mr. Allan. I don't need you keeling over during normal business hours because you were up all night watching Miss Alexander while she didn't need watching." He patted Zack on the shoulder. "I promise that you'll get a full update first thing in the morning... which isn't all that long from now, so grab some shut-eye while you can. That," he added, just to make sure Zack understood, "was not intended as a request."
Zack opened his mouth to protest once more, but then he closed it and nodded without saying a word. He glanced once more in Lyta's direction and then headed out. Sheridan paused long enough to exchange a glance with Franklin and then he left as well.
Franklin, for his part, checked his instruments once more and was disturbed to find that, even though this was the third time he'd looked the readings over, he couldn't find anything the least bit abnormal with Lyta. He did not for a minute want to believe that she was lying. But he wasn't finding anything physiological to explain her actions or to confirm that she had suffered a blackout, try as he might.
"And you don't remember anything since yesterday afternoon?"
Lyta shook her head. "No ... nothing."
He folded his arms and studied her with what he hoped wasn't overt skepticism. "Then how did you get into the maintbot control room?"
"I don't know," she said for what seemed the umpteenth time.
"What were you doing there?"
She had been keeping a deliberately patient expression plastered on her face, but it began to slip. "Stephen, what part of 'I don't know' is unclear? Look, this is me," she said with a tone of voice bordering on desperation. "If I knew what happened in there, I'd tell you."
"All right," Franklin said consolingly, clearly upset that he'd pushed her.
She put her fingers to her temple. "I'm sorry... I don't mean to be short with you. It's just... I'm as confused about this as you are."
He studied her a moment, weighing all the options. "It's possible that you were walking in your sleep," he said after a time. "Telepaths are sometimes prone to eccentric dream behavior." She looked up at him. He didn't sound entirely convinced of the likelihood of what he was saying. Indeed, it seemed as if he was endeavoring to convince himself. She would have loved to make it easier for him, but unfortunately, she couldn't. "But I've never done that before," she pointed out.
"Which means it may have needed a trigger event for your subconscious to get things moving," he said reasonably. "Can you think of any reason why you would want to destroy the artifact?"
She appeared to be giving the matter a great deal of thought. "No," she finally admitted with great reluctance. "No... well, not really... I've just..." Her voice trailed off a moment. Franklin waited patiently for her to finish the thought. "Ever since it got here," she continued, "I've had the strangest feeling about it... like I'd seen it before somewhere. It makes me nervous. And before you ask, no, I don't know why. It just does."
He nodded, taking it in, but when he began to probe her further on the subject, she shut him down by saying, "Look, I'm really, really tired. Can I go now, or am I being placed under arrest?"
He hesitated a moment, and then said, "No ... no, you can go. But first let me give you something to help you sleep."
She nodded as he walked away to get her the medication. Thoughts, concerns, and fears were tumbling through her head. A sense of impending danger, imminent disaster that could present itself at any time, any place.
Then she looked up ... and frowned.
Lyta's face filled the monitor in Sheridan's office. She was staring straight up at the medlab security camera, her eyes narrowed, and dark suspicion clear on her face. In the office, Sheridan, Ivanova, Zack, and Trent were observing her.
Zack hadn't realized when Sheridan had come to talk to him that an emergency meeting in Sheridan's office was in the offing. Sheridan was simply being cautious; he'd recognized that the concern on Zack's face clearly went beyond simple, friendly concern for Lyta's well-being. And he'd been worried that, as a consequence, Zack's thoughts about Lyta would be a painfully open book that Lyta, were she so inclined, would be able to skim with no problem. So when he'd urged Zack to get some sleep, it had had a twofold purpose: to get Zack away from Medlab so that he could be privately briefed; and to try and put Lyta ever-so-slightly off guard, so that she would be more inclined to believe that she wasn't suspected of any wrongdoing.
