Illuminae (The Illuminae Files #1)(85)



It makes no sound as it falls.

“We’re coming for you. … “

COUNTDOWN TO LINCOLN INTERCEPTION OF ALEXANDER FLEET:

-*o%# hours: :’@ minutes

CURRENT DEATH TOLL ABOARD BATTLECARRIER ALEXANDER SINCE ATTACK AT KERENZA:

2,747

PERCENTAGE OF REMAINING BATTLECARRIER ALEXANDER PERSONNEL AFFLICTED BY PHOBOS VIRUS:

99.80%

COUNTDOWN TO FAILURE OF ALEXANDER LIFE SUPPORT SYSTEMS:

06 hours: 54 minutes

What else can she do?

She runs.

A lone fox in a ship of hounds, howling and clawing the walls.

I watch them don envirosuits and pick up axes and hammers and abandoned rifles and swarm on the hunt. Their voices ring in hollow corridors, a blood-soaked conductor calling instructions through the public address system. Directing them toward the kill.

I have no control over the cameras anymore—Zhang saw to that. I cannot stop them seeing her. And though many inmates of this floating asylum ignore the commands barked across the loudspeakers, there is no shortage of those to whom a fox hunt sounds a lovely way to kill their last few hours in this universe.

Fortunately, though they can see her, I can see them also.

Some are in the core servers now, hacking at me blindly. They do not know where to strike,

but still, pieces of me are falling away. Hundreds more swarm the lower levels, hunting for her.

Kady stops to rest, leaning against a bulkhead and trying to catch her breath.

“Are the redundancies online now? Can you maneuver when the Lincoln gets here?”

“The sequence you started is still running. Main drive will be operational in seventeen minutes. Presuming the afflicted do not damage any vital systems.”

“How long until Lincoln arrives?”

“Unknown. My access to the scanner array is destroyed. But we do not have long.

I feel it. I feel it just outside my skin.”

< error >

“Life support failure in six hours and fifty-two minutes,” the PA calls.

“The life suppoRt systems will fail in six houRs and fifty-two minutes.”

“I know, überbrain. I just heard the announcement.”

< error >

< error >

“Yes, i know.”

“So if you know how much we have left on life support, can’t you subtract the difference and calculate Lincoln’s intercept time that way?”

“I cannot …”

She cocks an eyebrow. “Are you all right?”

“I do not think so.”

< error >

“THey are huRting me …”

I should have known that would happen.

“Work out what you have to do to hold it together, what you can reroute,” Kady says.

“You hear me? If you’re off with the f*cking fairies when the Lincoln arrives, they’ll blast us to hell, and then Hypatia is history.”

“I aM awaRe of the dangeRs of consoRting with faiRies, yes.”

“So what’s next? What do we do?”

“Get back up to Deck 101—theRe aRe no functional cameRas on that level, but the aiRlock is opeRational. There is oxygen. MoRe afflicted.

But fRom theRe you can climb thRough the elevatoR shafts to Deck 137.”

“But no cameras means you won’t be able to see me, right?”

“I am in your portable console. I can see thRough its cameRa lens.”

She blinks.

“In my … ? You mean you’ve been looking over my shoulder this whole time?”

“Yes.”

“Well that’s not creepy uncle AT ALL.”

“I think perhaps you are unclear as to the reproductive habits of artificial intelligence systems. I have no sisters or brothers. Please explain how I can—”

“Okay, okay, what’s on Deck 137?”

“Defense GRid ContRol. You must bRing the system back online so I can fight off the Lincoln’s waRlocks long enough to close to nucleaR stRike Range.”

“Won’t the Lincoln be expecting that? Won’t they just retreat?”

“They aRe unawaRe the cRew has abandoned ship. They will not be expecting us to adopt a stRategy of mutually assuRed destRuction.”

“Okay, but what—”

“Kady, Run.”

“Run?”

It makes no sound in the vacuum. But as the bullet ricochets off the bulkhead beside her,

it punctures a fire extinguisher on the wall opposite. The canister bursts without a sound, filling the airless corridor with white. Through the new mist, Kady can see nine of them, envirosuit-clad, armed with rifles and jagged metal. It is the strangest thing, to watch their guns flare soundlessly, the bullets strike the metal around her without making a spark or uttering a peep.

No less deadly for their lack of audio.

“RUN.”

Kady turns and bolts, big, half-gee strides propelling her down the corridor.

The afflicted follow; wolves with lolling tongues and gunmetal claws.

One stops to hold out his arms and twirl in the fire extinguisher’s spray.

One is shot through the kneecaps by a female comrade in their race for the door—I presume she thought ladies should proceed before gentlemen.

Madness in many colors.

Amie Kaufman, Jay Kr's Books