Escape (72 page)

She didn't reply.

“Hey, Jilly, talk to me.”

“It means there isn't any blood to draw, Kieran!”

“What? How's that possible?”

She turned to him with a blank look. “I don't know. How is any of this possible? I don't know.” She turned back to the microscope and keyed in a series of commands. The computer beeped an error, and Jilly let out a frustrated hiss. Kieran watched her type in another series of commands, and heard another error beep. He found himself holding his breath to listen for a heartbeat that wasn't there.

Jilly pounded the control console, her hand bouncing off the panel. “Keficking thing!”

“What are you trying to do?”

“I'm trying to run an analysis of your first blood sample. The one we took after we tested the EMP for the first time. I need to see what it looks like now, after weeks have passed. Theoretically the virus should have been completely eliminated in that sample by now. If not
 
.
 
.
 
.
well, that would explain why we're still experiencing phsyiological changes.”

“You mean maybe we disabled the virus, but the effect was only temporary?”

“Something like that.”

“Well, then we'd better check the first sample.”

Jilly turned to him with a look of strained patience. “Really? I hadn't thought of that.”

Kieran frowned. “I was agreeing with you, not stating the obvious.”

“Right. I know. I'm sorry.” Jilly sighed. “Anyway, it doesn't matter. According to the computer. The first sample isn't there anymore.”

“Not there? Are you sure?”

“Positive. You didn't remove it, did you?”

“No. Maybe Ferrel did.”

Jilly's expression turned thoughtful. “Maybe
 
.
 
.
 
.
”

“Well, why don't you just check the other samples? The ones we took before we left Da Shon. They should still be there.”

“Good idea.” Jilly typed in another set of commands. This time the projector plate whirred to life and a pair of holograms appeared in the air above the microscope. Jilly spent a moment studying them, but even Kieran could see that the unanturally symmetrical spindle-armed spheres were still present in the samples.

Jilly let out a long breath. “Well, it doesn't look good, but I'm going to bring up the recordings of the samples from the first time we checked them, so we can see how they've changed over time.” Her fingers pitter-pattered accross the controls and another pair of holograms swelled to life above the previous set. They spent a moment studying the holograms. Kieran couldn't see the differences between them, so he gave up trying to understand what he was seeing.

Jilly shook her head incredulouly. “What?!” She hunched forward to get a better look at the holograms, her mouth dropping open.

Kieran stepped closer to study the holograms again, looking for what she'd seen. But the ones above and below, before and after, looked the same. He watched individual cells moving in the same, lazy dance, the nanites' spindly arms all waving in the same unseen breeze, the amorphous blobs that were white blood cells oozing toward them. “So nothing's changed, then,” Kieran said.

“No, you don't get it. Nothing stays that static. These holograms are
exactly
the same, down to the number and placement of every cell. Which is not only impossible, it doesn't make any sense. Unless
 
.
 
.
 
.
”

“Unless what?”

Jilly shook her head and typed another series of commands into the console. Kieran leaned over her shoulder to see what she was doing. She was running a detailed analysis on the samples. When the report appeared on screen, it was accompanied by another error beep. Kieran read the results over her shoulder only to find that there were no results. The computer had been unable to read the samples. Thinking that maybe the vials had been dislodged from the sample tubes during the journey, Jilly reached down to the sample slots and pressed the eject button.

With a hiss of air, both vials of blood popped out of tubes, and Jilly withdrew them from the slots. Kieran caught a glimpse of them as she did so, and felt his breath freeze in his throat. Jilly held the vials up to the light and gasped.

The contents of the vials were ash gray and powdery, not red as they should have been.

“What is that? That's not blood!” Kieran said, taking a quick step back.

Jilly gaped at the samples in her hands, and slowly shook her head. “No, it's not.”

* * *

Kieran struggled to keep up with Jilly as she marched down the corridor to the bridge deck. They were walking past the myriad doors to the crew quarters.

“Jilly, slow down! What are you doing?”

“We need to turn this ship around.”

“What? Why?”

Jilly stopped walking and abruptly turned to face him. “Because we are still infected! We can't go looking for refuge amongst the uninfected when we're bringing the infection with us!”

Kieran's mouth opened, then closed again. “We could
 
.
 
.
 
.
”

“No. We have to go back.” Jilly about-faced and began stalking toward the bridge again.

“Jilly! Hold on!” Kieran caught up to her and grabbed her by the arm to stop her.

She spun around, her eyes blazing. “What?”

“Let's just hit ourselves with another EMP blast and see what happens.”

Her eyebrows shot up. “Because it worked so well the first time?”

“Maybe we just need to use more power! Maybe we didn't completely disable the virus the first time.” Jilly was shaking her head. “We can't just give up!”

“Kieran, put the pieces together. I couldn't draw your blood. The blood samples we took a few weeks ago have dried up and changed chemical composition such that the computer can't even recognize them. Whatever we are now, it's so far from human that we can't risk hitting ourselves with another EMP blast. It could kill us.”

Kieran's mouth twisted into a grimace. “Then maybe we're better off dead.”

Jilly frowned and bit her lip. “Maybe. Except that I don't know about you, but I feel fine. All this means is that we can't run from the virus anymore. We need to go back. To see what's become of the others, and what's to become of us. There's no longer a chance for us to be cured. And we certainly can't seek asylum with uninfected populations.”

“Hold on. How do you know that? We still look pretty human, Jilly. As I recall, the virus turned people into monsters that were barely recognizable. We're not that far gone yet. Maybe we're not even contagious? We can't just surrender to it. What if we become like them? What if it turns us into animals and we start feeding on each other?” Kieran shook his head vigorously. “I can't accept that that's our fate. We have to keep looking for a cure before it really is too late.”

Jilly's face twisted into a mask of revulsion. “I'm not giving up; I just think our best chance to find answers is to go back. And even if it isn't, we can't inflict ourselves upon the last pool of humanity in the galaxy.”

Kieran pursed his lips and gritted his teeth. “Okay.”

“Okay.” Jilly nodded and she held his gaze for a long, painful moment before turning around.

That was when they heard the
swish
of a door opening beside them. They both turned to look and saw that the open door lead to one of the crew cabins.

“That's odd,” Kieran said.

“It just opened by itself?”

“Maybe.” Kieran took a step toward the open door, peering into the hazy gloom beyond the threshold. “I think this is one of the rooms that was locked before.”

“So Ferrel managed to hack through the security?”

“I guess
 
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.
 
.
” Kieran trailed off, leaning his head around the door jamb to see inside. “Looks pretty unremarkable to me. I wonder why it was locked?” Without waiting for an answer, Kieran stepped inside the room and the lights came on automatically, illuminating the space. Jilly hesistated on the threshold, feeling like she was invading some long-dead person's home, but the room seemed devoid of personal effects, so she stepped over the threshold and joined Kieran in his inspection.

“Well
 
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.
 
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” she said, looking around. The room seemed to be an identical twin of their own. Cleansing station to one side, double bunk pushed up against the opposite wall, floor-to-ceiling set of gunmetal gray lockers along the far wall, flanking an external viewport with the shades drawn, some utilitarian furniture arranged around a holo projector in the foreground. “I don't see anything in here. Looks like it hasn't been occupied for a while.”

Kieran nodded and walked over to the lockers. He tested the lock by waving his hand across the sensor, and the locker door popped open. He peered inside, and turned to Jilly with a frown. “It's empty. Why do you suppose these rooms were locked if there was nothing in them?”

Jilly was about to answer when she heard a quiet
swish
behind her. She spun around just in time to see the last visible slice of the corridor dissapearing as the door slid shut.

Chapter 51

A
s soon as the door had shut, a noise like a quiet rush of air filled the room. Jilly turned back to Kieran, her eyes wide. “What's that?”

He began looking at the ceiling, his head turning every which way, searching for some visible sign of the sound. The noise grew louder until the air was alive with hissing. “Could be an atmosphere leak. We need to get out of here.”

“Or
 
.
 
.
 
.
remember what Ferrel said about the AI before we left Da Shon? How it tried to
—
”

“Gas him? Yeah, maybe.” Kieran was already on his way to the door. “Let's not stick around to find out.” He went straight to the door panel and waved his hand across the sensor.

The panel beeped a sharp error noise, and the panel glowed red to show that the door was code-locked.

Kieran let out a frustrated hiss of air that mimiced the sound already whistling into through their room. “Maledict it! We're locked in.”

“What?! How?”

Kieran shook his head and tried his security code.

The panel emitted another error beep, and again it glowed red, but this time glowing letters appeared.

TWO TRIES LEFT.

“Just open the door!” Jilly said, pounding on it with her fists.

Kieran shot her a quick look. “I'm trying! My code isn't working!”

“Let me try.” Jilly shouldered him out of the way and punched in her code.

BEEP.

Words flashed on the miniature screen: ONE TRY LEFT. PLEASE COMM SECURITY IF YOU HAVE FORGOTTEN YOUR DOOR CODE.

“Kefick!” Kieran spat. “What vacuous cretitch installed a security system where you need the code to get
out
of your room?”

Jilly was already pressing the switch for the comm system. “Ferrel! Are you up there? We're stuck in our room and coma gas is pouring in! Override the door controls!”

Jilly waited for a count of three with her ear turned to the comm speaker. Nothing but static answered. She turned to Kieran, her red eyes wide and gleaming fiercely in the dark. “What are we going to do?”

The hissing noise went on and on, while Kieran's mind churned for answers. Abruptly he realized something. The noise was growing softer. And they weren't unconscious or short of breath.

“Listen,” he said.

The hissing had stopped.

Jilly shook her head. “I don't understand.”

“It wasn't what either of us thought. Coma gas or hull breath, either way we'd be out cold by now. I think this was something more benign.”

Just then the lights flickered, drawing their attention to the overhead lighting panels. 

Kieran frowned. “That's odd,” he said as the lights flickered again. And then the lights went out.

An abrupt silence spread through the room, and then the sound of Jilly's quick, shallow breathing, split that silence with the sound of panic. “Kieran, what's going on? Ferrel isn't answering the comm. Do you think he
—
”

A throaty whisper rolled out from the shadows: “I don't think he can hear you. Maybe you should scream.”

Kieran whirled around.

A pair of burning red eyes lit the darkness between him and the far wall of the room. Kieran's own eyes widened, and then by virtue of his unnaturally good eyesight he saw the creature come into sharper focus
—
the wrinkled, gray skin; the gaping grin of sharply-pointed teeth glinting wickedly from the shadows.