Raddocks Horizon (Godyssey Legacy Book 1) Page 16

  At his point of view, he began losing skin himself and become lacerated. He could feel the cuts at first but with each piece of him devoured by knives the feeling grew less potent until finally he was only watching his very soul being stripped from him.

  Each page dropped in had his signature and a date but not in the traditional sense, the date was in the form of a memory. A beating. A night of drugs and a cold razor. Falling in love. Cradling his baby brother. Having food thrown at him by his little sister. Being taught to carve wood by his father. Being held by his mother. Crawling through their remains, two days after the GA bombed Melbourne permanently rendering it underwater. Running headlong into war hoping to kill everything living, to die or be damned before having to face the pain.

  All too soon the dark version of him had shredded everything that makes him who he is, leaving nothing behind. No mind. No feeling. No warmth. No eyes. Just a bleeding, skinless thing crumpled on the floor crying out of reflex rather than any real emotion.

  The floor was cold, so very cold and even colder when the exposed veins began creeping out of his body to slither and slide across the porous tiles at all angles as if trying to escape the body.

  As the veins spread out they quickly began to dry out and started struggling to move then others slithered and entwined with each other all the while trying to spread further from the shivering form they left behind.

  The ruination of human meat and bone opened its mouth trying to cry out, but only a retching hiss escaped its throat before the thing that was once Rennin Farrow finally stopped moving. It didn’t die, because it wasn’t really alive to begin with. Its veins and muscle strings just kept creeping ever outwards, like most diseases.

  Rennin’s eyes shoot open and for a moment all he sees is a hazy white blur with a shadow somewhere above him. They focus quickly and the matted haired, teary-eyed Carla comes into view, her blue eyes looking down at him in fear, her fringe tickling his face. His mouth tastes like a sandpaper condom and he struggles to speak, “Were you hitting me?”

  She smiles and wipes a tear from her left eye. “You were shot last night, I thought you were dead.”

  “Women always like the damaged ones,” he says, kneading his face with a free hand almost expecting to find nothing but blood and bone.

  She smiles in a patient kind of way, “Still have your sense of humour at least.”

  Rennin doesn’t acknowledge her comment. “It’s like you think we’re broken vases that you can put back together, good as new. But there’s always cracks.”

  “Rennin, listen to me, you were shot last night. I have to get you to hospital.”

  Rennin puts his hand on her face and feels her forehead. “Your fever has gone.”

  “I know.”

  “You still look like shit.”

  Her eyes look hurt but worse than that, she looks terrified and probably has been for a while. Rennin pushes himself off the floor and holds her tightly feeling just for a moment everything terrible is far away.

  “I’m sorry, I don’t handle my own emotions well. I normally play with other people’s,” he says waggling his fingers like some kind of creeping vampire. Rennin kisses her, trying to transmit what he feels into something physical, so at least there is an expression of some kind to show her he cares.

  After he leans back she has a look at the scar on his chest. It’s already sealed and pink. “What’s happened to you? I saw you get shot.”

  Rennin looks to his chest, “The skin healing is some toxin Wonder Boy made at the lab. As for the bullet…” he checks around the bathroom floor, noting a fierce stiffness in his neck. He spots it and holds it up, showing the flattened end with pride.

  “I’m not entirely sure what to make of it. I knew Thermosteel was strong but not strong enough to stop a bullet. It’s lucky it hit me in the sternum, if it went between my ribs I would have been in real trouble.”

  She frowns, “Who put Thermosteel in you?”

  “A priest while I was in the choir, how did you know I use that euphemism?”

  “I’m serious, Ren.”

  Rennin holds up both his hands palms away from her showing her the unnatural difference, “You see the symmetry in my right hand and pretty regular left one?”

  “They replaced your arm, yes.”

  “My left leg too, and part of my skull. You hadn’t noticed my left eye glows in the dark like a small novelty diaphragm?”

  Her face cringes slightly, “No, I guess not. But it doesn’t explain bullet proof bones.”

  “The limbs Caufmann grafted onto me are too heavy for my skeleton to support, so he injected me with Thermosteel.”

  She arches an eyebrow. “I heard that stuff is worth seven million a kilo.”

  Rennin finds himself smirking, “We can rebuild him, we have the technology,” he quotes from the Six Million Dollar Man. Judging from Carla’s expression, she doesn’t watch TV shows from three and a half centuries ago. She must have some kind of life outside work or something.

  “I’m assuming that’s a line from a movie.”

  Close enough. “You got me.” He sighs lightly and looks at her with a warm smile or at least as warm as he can manage. “We have to leave this city.”

  She nods. “Where though?”

  “It doesn’t matter. How is the real question.”

  ◆◆◆

  Another day passes. The hit squads have been out around the clock. Their execution count has climbed into the thousands. The public aren’t as stupid as the grunts thought they were. Several have caught on to what is going on, though they still can’t do anything.

  The military have labelled the bodies contagious, and have openly admitted that they are removing bodies that have fallen victim to the disease. At least at first it worked just fine but the press received a letter from Doctor Mepida Rethrin that changed all that.

  Caufmann was covered in various forms of gore from the lab when he found out and left immediately for Rethrin’s quarters.

  He ignores the opportunity to be civilised and knock, bypassing the locking mechanism almost on arrival. The door flies up into the bulkhead, waking both occupants. Rethrin’s roommate is up in an instant only wearing his underpants, visibly winding himself up to make a complaint when Caufmann grabs his wrist and literally throws him out of the room. He unceremoniously thumps into the wall across the hall, sliding into a stunned, uncoordinated pile.

  The door slams down when Caufmann hits the plate, and for a second he and Rethrin are left alone in the dark. Rethrin feels something like terror grip her, as Caufmann appears as some demonic, glowing eyed spectre in front of her bunk for at least a moment before the lights come on.

  Rethrin stands up, folding her arms over herself, feeling terribly exposed. Caufmann’s gaze is fixed on her face.

  She opens her mouth to speak. What she receives is a backhand so hard it throws her back onto her bed. A trickle of blood runs out of the corner of her mouth, but her face is still riddled with conviction. Caufmann holds up a scrunched copy of the letter she wrote to the press office.

  She grits her teeth, “They deserve to know, William.”

  His face screws up into a snarl. Rethrin sees more wrinkles cross his face than she has ever seen before. “I don’t care that you sent it! It’s irrelevant now. You told them I made it!”

  It’s the first time she’s ever heard him yell.

  For a moment she’s a little confused. He’s not upset about her leaking information, that people have died for revealing a glimpse of, he’s upset she said he designed the affliction. “William… you didn’t? You really didn’t?”

  “Of course not! You… you idiot!” he turns away, beyond speechless. He takes several deep, calming breaths.

  “I can’t think of anyone else in the world who could have possibly done it.”

  He turns to face her. “Do you believe for one second that I’d have made something this faulty?”

  Rethrin’s scientific mind clicks on and she
forgets about her throbbing jaw. “Faulty? It’s perfect. According to calculations the entire world could be overrun in a little under a year. Complete conversion.”

  “It’s not perfect. I’ve discovered a weakness in the contaminants that is quite crippling, but I’ve no idea how to exploit it. Plus I would never have let it out without a cure. I’d never make anything that sacrificed intelligence for obedience.”

  “What weakness? What do you mean by obedience?” asks Rethrin.

  “Some people see a particular reflection of light and it induces an epileptic fit.”

  “That’s very rare, but yes.”

  “The contaminants seem to react to certain colours with a phobic response,” says Caufmann.

  “They’re afraid of colour?” she doesn’t even bother to hide her scepticism.

  “More or less.”

  “Pity Raddocks Horizon is such a dreary temperate zone and almost always rainy.”

  Caufmann smiles, “Yes, it is,” and almost instantly his smile vanishes to a rather cold expression. “You understand you’ll have to leave, don’t you?”

  Rethrin looks at the floor for a moment thinking then looks back to him. “Yes. I thought you were here to kill me.”

  Caufmann removes a syringe from his jacket pocket. “I was, yes.” He puts it away. “Since your actions would normally result in a death sentence and I have another here who also wouldn’t be allowed to live if discovered, I think you can help each other.”

  Rethrin frowns with a questioning look, “I’m sorry?”

  “I need you to leave this city tonight, and I want you to take a deserter from the HolinMech Warrior unit.”

  Rethrin stands up very slowly looking at Caufmann’s eyes. “Arca Drej? He’s here?”

  Caufmann nods.

  Rethrin shakes her head, “I can’t take him.”

  “This isn’t exactly open for debate.”

  “William, martial law is going to be in place tomorrow. Before I can even get out of this city I have to dock at the Skyhook, and they will do a ship scan as well as test me for infection. If they find Arca Drej on board… well you might as well just kill me now.”

  The Skyhook has been commandeered by the Iyatoya lunar base that houses the HolinMech android special forces team. There are several Skyhook bases located around the continent, which have now converged above Raddocks Horizon and latched onto each other, creating a bigger base of operations to combat the plague.

  Caufmann makes a rumbling noise at the back of his throat, “Very well.”

  “I can’t take him and run either. If I leave via Gateway, I’ll be shipped to the Outbound housing zone. The military would take one look at Drej and know he’s an android. Or if I take a ship and escape, they will detect an andronic construct aboard my vessel, ask questions and then shoot us down.”

  Caufmann’s left eye twitches just slightly. “Mm,” he nods, “he’s been through a lot. He couldn’t pass for human.”

  “I’m sorry, William.”

  Caufmann looks at her for a long moment then rolls up his sleeve and presses a button on his forearm. A moment later he speaks, his voice projected from every PA in the Godyssey Lab. “Attention, this is Doctor William Caufmann, Head of Genetic Research. As of 9AM tomorrow morning, the staff restrictions are lifted from both the Experimental and Incubation sections. Watchman Crew, stand down.”

  He clicks off his forearm and turns to leave. The door flies up and he’s out in the hall where Rethrin’s roommate is nursing a broken arm and a quickly swelling and bruising face where his head collided with the wall.

  Rethrin follows him out. “William, what about our families?”

  “Make sure they’re at Gateway in two days.”

  “Why?”

  “All immediate relatives of essential Godyssey employees and the military are allowed to leave if they pass a medical scan.”

  Caufmann stops walking when Rethrin grabs his arm. “So any of the military and our staff can get out of this city?”

  “Yes, if you’re in the research division or a soldier, your family gets out if they scan clean.”

  Rethrin nods.

  “Your husband will be fine. Now get dressed.” Without bothering to see if she’s embarrassed, he turns to walk off only to find Rennin standing right in his way.

  “Rennin,” he says in mild surprise.

  “I noticed your handiwork,” he says tilting head to gaze past Caufmann to the downed man who’s being attended to by a couple of staff. “Nice.”

  “Can I help you, Ren?”

  “Well I was here to execute Doctor Whistleblower.”

  Caufmann spots Killjoy in Rennin’s hand. “That won’t be necessary.”

  Rennin nods and salutes with the gun. “She’s got some good information.”

  “I have things to do, Rennin.”

  “Can I have the afternoon off?”

  Caufmann gets the feeling Rennin is up to something. “What? Why?”

  Rennin’s artificial eye gives nothing away, but his human eye is overly focussed. “Please?” He mimics the infamous puppy eyes trick most kids try on their mothers.

  Caufmann is mildly unsettled, “Very well.”

  Rennin steps a little closer to him, “Have I told you that I love you lately?”

  “Get out, Rennin.”

  ◆◆◆

  Confident his humour has disarmed Caufmann’s suspicions, Rennin leaves the lab without a moment to waste. The streets are almost bare. Of the few people outside, some look horrendously ill, whilst others look fine.

  The compound accepting the uninfected in Centre-city is up and running. The people who didn’t qualify for a ticket out are queuing up outside. The Horizon Military have efficiently fortified enough room for almost twenty thousand people. Rennin wonders how many of these checkpoints are currently in operation.

  Several skyscrapers fall within the confines of the compound, overseen by two Desolator satellites. They are stationed above the compound itself to defend against potential group attacks from hostiles, but so far the general public has not been made aware of that.

  Arriving at the Army Recruitment building, Rennin enters the massive dome structure. It is filled with waiting people, slumped in the chairs or leaning against support pillars.

  Rennin walks up to one of the several dozen people at the recruitment counters sniggering to himself, not believing they could possibly need a building this elaborate for any practical reason.

  He waits in line for nearly half an hour as the dozen or so people in front sign their lives away, hopefully to die quietly without having to show up on news updates and interrupt his TV programs.

  The plain, featureless, probably useless soldier sitting behind the desk looks up at the forty-something year old in front of him. “Yes, sir?”

  “Do I look like your sergeant?”

  The soldier doesn’t react. Probably hasn’t changed his nappy, or his initiation involved some rectal batteries, Rennin sniggers, or battering, judging by his age.

  “I just have some questions. I want to know how this getting-out-of-the-city thing works. Is it all Godyssey staff can evacuate or what?”

  The soldier, whose nametag says Tyrone, rolls his eyes ever so slightly. “Godyssey Lab employees can evacuate with their families as a first priority. Godyssey security must stay, families can evacuate through regular channels. Godyssey Military can evacuate their families only,” he says slowly enough for a triple-concussed football player to have to time to process each word.

  Rennin does need a little time to process it though. His face is set in stone. “Better sign me up.”

  “You’re a little old, aren’t you?”

  “I prefer ‘veteran’.”

  “Name?”

  “Rennin Elizabeth Farrow.”

  Tyrone can’t repress a smirk while typing it into his console. His face turns to surprise as he starts reading what turns up. “Eight years as a CryoZaiyon Standard, served under Lieutenant Saife
r Veidan… fought the Invasion of China, three peacekeeping missions, two occupations, four months in the Sieges under Valhara. The Valhara?” Tyrone asks looking up with wide eyes.

  Rennin nods.

  “What was she like?”

  “Don’t remember,” he lies.

  “That bad?” the soldier asks.

  “Depends what you mean by bad. It’s hard to describe,” Rennin says, images of the Jupiter Sieges flooding his mind. “Forgal was so strong. I remember him being,” he trails for a moment, “impossible.”

  Tyrone is frozen in place watching Rennin rotate his hands as he searches for the words.

  “But seeing Valhara in that final battle, she was a juggernaut. She wore a Serriform Warsuit; looked like a meat grinder. Pretty appropriate for her, really.

  “Io and Europa tore each other to pieces, I remember looking up at the shields. Two worlds at war. They broke us.

  “At the brink of it all, she was at the centre of the madness. Every goddamn shot they took seemed to hit her, but she didn’t go down. I can hear her scream like it’s carved its own note into my skull. I saw Valhara take shots that would have levelled city blocks, and she just didn’t stop. Each hit seemed to drive her on. When she reached their line it was a fucking massacre. I saw her pick a trooper up, and the amount of energy she was emitting set him alight in her hand.

  “How could Forgal, or anyone, be stronger than that? It was like watching a god.”

  “Is that where Commander Valhara died?”

  Rennin shrugs himself out of his reminiscence. “I was shipped out, wounded.”

  Tyrone continues reading, “Fought in Russia, America, and helped defend Raddocks Horizon during the attempted occupation. Unofficially awarded the Andron Cross and Undine Spire. Those are for androids, aren’t they?”

  “Usually. Forgal Lauros gave me his medals for the campaign in Ireland and the closing fight in the Jupiter Sieges.”

  Tyrone blinks and shakes his head. “This is… an intense amount of combat. It says here you survived the destruction of the capital ship, the HMAS Possession.”

  An image of the Possession exploding from through the view-port of an escape pod enters Rennin’s mind unbidden.