Blood and Silicon

Something I wrote for the 'Around an Object' contest.

     I stepped off the shuttle debarkation ramp, carried along in the flow of my fellow passengers. Dazzling light poured into the concourse through the ceiling of abstractly angled glass panes, reflecting off the smooth grey ferrocrete architecture, and kicking on the light dampeners in my glasses. The Geharis Spaceport was an impressive complex, built to serve as terminal for the vast majority of the passenger travel to and from the planet of Kelbor. As the crowd dissipated toward the various exits and service counters, I consciously tried to ignore the thin, credit chit-sized package weighing inside the pocket sewn into the right breast of my white silk shirt. The right breast, because any assassin would be aiming for my heart...I swallowed hard, eyes flicking nervously up around the supports angling back and forth over the airy structure.

 

   

     I couldn't believe I'd gotten into something like this; I was just a xenopologist, three years out of university. Yet just because I'd been in the Junior Officer Training Corps for a few semesters during Tertiary School, that somehow made me a better candidate for this mule run. That's what they told me, that I'd been chosen specifically by Provost Heingulz, supreme leader of The Consortium of Worlds, because of this. Almost every other scientist at the dig site on Gandlevarn had seniority, they should have been clambering for the privilege of presenting what might well be the find of the century to our leader, and they were. But somehow it was me carrying this datapack to be analyzed at the Zoltin Labs here on Kelbor .

     As I walked toward one of three arched exits to the south, I almost laughed at the incongruity of someone killing me for such a small bit of silicon. Look, there's a beach right out that window, lots of sand, take all you want. Oh, sure, they didn't tell me I was a target, but I did well enough in my classes; there were things going on I didn't know about, and the aforementioned secret pocket did nothing to dissuade my suspicion. Nor did the gag order placed on the whole Gandlevarn team, or the pair of military craft discreetly shadowing my shuttle all the way to Kelbor. I should have just said 'no', I thought sourly. As if saying no to our supreme leader wasn't tantamount to committing careeracide.

     "Doctor Tanbert!" I turned my head toward the voice, and whipped it back around, giving myself a mental slap for acknowledging my name. That was the gag order: "Do not talk to anyone. At any time. About anything." The communiqué from the government office here on Kelbor had been crystal clear on that point. They had also told me that to keep things discreet, they would not be sending anyone to meet me. These two pieces of information amalgamated with the rest into a bar of pure discomfort that settled in my belly. I kept walking toward the exit, fervently hoping whoever it was would go away. But no, within a few strides a dark-suited man slid glassily in front of me.

  

   "Doctor Tanbert, there you are. I've been waiting for you." He spoke like we were old colleagues, but I'd never laid eyes on his long, bland visage.

     "Sorry," I said, hoping to wriggle out of this situation. "I believe you've mistaken me for someone, sir. I don't know anyone by the name of Doctor Tanbert."

 

    His thin lips quirked slightly, and his brown eyes clearly said Oh, please, I didn't just fall off the space elevator yesterday. "No need to worry, Doctor, I'm just here to escort you to the Boss." His soft voice projected an air of calm, bordering on disinterest.

  

  "You really do have me confused with someone." I restated the lie as I tried to step around him. He blocked me, and I felt something poke at my stomach.

  

  "Don't make me hurt you, Doctor." He whispered in my ear. I looked around franticly in search of a nearby security officer, but he prodded me with the Fleminium barrel of his snub-nosed bolter. "This little sweet will put a whole the size of my fist through your gut before you can say 'wentoog'. You and me are just going to ambulate outside like we don't have a care in the world. No fuss, no muss, nobody gets mutilated."

    I nodded stiffly, and let him push me toward the egress. He stayed on my hip the whole way with that little cannon sticking in my ribs, yet somehow he managed to look casual about it. He marched me out onto a shrub-dotted plaza where a dark, luxury hoverskiff squatted only a dozen strides away. I caught a brief glimpse of the sprawling, pearly-hued city spreading thickly away in all directions before a door opened and I was swallowed by the monster.

    The interior was spacious, the seating upholstered in fine Pertillian leather, and a small mini-bar occupied one side below the tinted windows. My new 'friend' pressed me down into a seat facing a thin old man who sat with a small glass of ruby liquor held delicately in one hand. 

  

   "Ah, Doctor Tanbert, thank you for joining me." He greeted me in a deep baritone that surprised me coming from a man his size.

 

   "Like I told him," I gestured at my abductor, who sat next to me resting his bolter on his knee. "You've got the wrong..." The man across from me quirked an eyebrow in amusement, not buying my lie for a second. "Why is it only my name we're bandying about here?" I snapped in irritation, finally giving up the charade.

 

   "Because you haven't asked mine. And you still haven't. But I'll tell you anyway. I am Virgil Darencourt. And he is Waldo."

  

    "Virgil Darencourt, but you're..." I trailed off

 

    "I'm known to some." His wrinkled face creased in a slight smile. He depressed a small button on his armrest and a moment later the hoverskiff's engines hummed to life, lifting us into the air.

    My palms were sweating furiously. This was not good. I mean, this was really bad. Worse than the time I vandalized the school bathroom in Primary School to impress Lain Velters and got caught with cerulean paint all over my hands...Funny the things you think of at a time like this. Presently, I was sitting across from the biggest lord of the underground in the whole sector. According to rumor, Darencourt's cabal stretched over at least 45 planets; he might very well be the second most powerful person in The Consortium. 

    "Now then, we've covered the introductions, let's see that datapack you're carrying."

    "I don't know what you're talking about." I had tried playing dumb one time too many. Darencourt made a slight gesture, and suddenly Waldo's arm was locked around my neck, his bolter pressed painfully against my temple.

    "The datapack that has the information your team downloaded from the alien artifact you found on Gandlevarn. Don't waste my time!"

    The blood was pounding in my ears and my vision turned blurry from Waldo's grip. The will to live won out over my patriotism. "Oh, that datapack." I said hoarsely. "It's sewn into my shirt."

     Darencourt gestured again, and Waldo released me, settling back in his seat like nothing had happened. Rubbing my neck with one hand, I reluctantly reached into my shirt and popped the seam on the pocket, slipping out the source of all this trouble. It lay there in my palm, 5 centimeters by 8 centimeters, the cabin lights glaring off it's glossy semi-transparent surface. The second most powerful man in The Consortium leaned forward holding out his hand, and after a moment I handed him the datapack, a strange feeling in my chest; like regret and anger and relief all mixed up together in some absurd cocktail. He settled back again, running his bony fingers over his prize.

    "Why do you even want that?" I probably could have figured half a dozen likely reasons, but it was as if I was vicariously asking 'Why is all this happening to me. I wanted to study exotic ruins of primitive aliens, abandoned for millennia, maybe even find living specimens one day. Not be kidnapped and threatened by crime lords!' Darencourt, unaware of the internal ambiguity surrounding my question, looked at me, as if surprised.

    "Because Provost Heingulz does." He said it as if it were the simplest thing in the world. And I suppose it was at that.

    "But you'd have to translate it for it to be any good at all, and that will require a tremendous amount of computing power. That's why I was taking it to the labs at Zoltin, they're the only ones in The Consortium with enough power."

     He just smiled like he knew something I didn't. I hate that smile. Ever since I was a kid, and adults would beam that infuriating little grin at me, I had detested it.

    "And even if you did, it's probably just a montage of cave pictures or something." I pressed on, irritated now. "That's all that was on that planet, you know. Cave pictures."

    "Indeed, that is all that you found on that planet...except for one curiously advanced artifact, yes? Something far beyond the pitiful technology of the inhabitants. A storage device of some sort, containing a large amount of encrypted data, which you succeeded in transferring to this very datapack."

     I said nothing, suddenly exhausted, and just turned my head to stare out the filmed window at the blurred landscape rushing by beneath us, hoping against hope to hear the sound of a police cruiser coming up on us. After several very quiet minutes we came to a temporary stop at the base of a nondescript office building. As the hoverskiff waited for the garage door to swing up, I cast one last look out the rear window before we slid through the portal.

    "You may as well save your neck the strain, Doctor, they're not looking for you." Darencourt said, noticing. "As far as they're concerned you won't even be arriving for almost 3 hours." He laughed at my bemused expression. "I know many people, some of whom work in the transport business. It was a relatively simple matter to change your flight's schedule without alerting the good Provost's people." I felt what little hope I had left shrivel as the door locked back into place behind us.

     The interior was dim, and the tinting on the windows made it difficult to make out much as we halted beneath a wide shaft in the ceiling. The magnetograpplers hummed to life as we were whisked upward, the walls sliding by at tremendous speed. I closed my eyes against the nausea; I never did like these things.

     We reached our destination none too soon, and an umbilical extended out from the wall to mate with the door, which slid open on contact. Waldo took my arm and pushed me through into a bare, windowless room, lit by half a dozen sconces emitting a cold, bluish light. I glanced around the blank walls in puzzlement, as Darencourt strode past us to the far side. He touched an unassuming locus on the surface, and a narrow passageway whispered open.

    "Sorry, Doctor," Came Waldo's voice from behind me. "but this is where you leave us."

     I turned to stare down the mouth of that ugly, deathly contrivance of his. The idea that they were going to dispose of me had been nibbling at the back of my mind, like some hungry little rodent, ever since I got into that hoverskiff, but so far I had refused to acknowledged it. Until now. I opened my mouth to make some kind of argument, but I realized, looking into his expressionless eyes, that I could never find one that would sway him. I closed my eyes and inhaled slightly. My stomach wrung itself into queasy knots, as I cast about in my mind for that perfect last thought to end my existence with. I jumped slightly when Darencourt abruptly spoke.

    "I think Doctor Tanbert would like to know just what he's dying for first. Wouldn't you, Doctor?" I looked at him and nodded stupidly, a sudden rush of relief bursting through my chest at even this temporary stay. I turned back to Waldo, who was slipping his bolter into his jacket, looking just as apathetic as ever. The man would have unnerved me even if I hadn't known he was going to kill me at some point. Darencourt waved the datapack toward the passage, beckoning me through.

    Five steps brought me into a small, square room. As Waldo followed us inside, Darencourt tapped a control panel on the wall, and the cubicle plummeted downward. Damn this man and his velocious contraptions! I though angrily as I steadied myself against the wall. It was nearly a minute before we gradually began to slow, and I guessed that we had dropped at least several thousand feet underground.The open side of the elevator slid to a stop over another passage in the shaft, and the smell of recycled air pushed into my nostrils. 

    "Here we are," said Darencourt, leading the way through onto a raised dais 

overlooking a cavernous room. "The only other place in The Consortium with enough computing power to decrypt and translate this." He lifted the datapack slightly.

    My eyes widened as I took in the vast complex before us. The brightly lit white floor was lined with row upon row of massive computational modules, linked together with thick cabling that ran along the top of each queue before converging at the nexus below us. This did indeed rival what the labs at Zoltin had, and even standing here, I couldn't believe it existed. My face must have been speaking my incredulity for me, because Darencourt smiled.

    "When you own so many of the companies involved in producing components for legitimate purposes, it's not so difficult to set them to producing for more clandestine ones." He walked down the steps leading to the nerve center, where white-suited techs were tapping into the great machine's potential at various consoles, Waldo and I trailing in his wake. A tall man with a sleek neural interface clamped over his shaved head hurried up to us.

    "Ah, Mr. Darencourt, what can we do for you tonight?" He inquired, as he raised the interface's viewer up over his forehead.

    "It's barely past noon." I blurted out.

    "Is it?" He asked distractedly. Darencourt gave me a brief look that seemed to indicate he was reconsidering his decision to postpone my execution. But he turned back to the tech without a word.

    "Doctor Aber, I need every non-essential process cleared from the system, as well as a console set up with decryption and translation programs. Then I want everyone out."

 

    "All non-essentials? But, sir, we have dozens of operations running right now. We can't just shut them down. We'd lose..." His voice fizzled under what I presumed was a look similar to the one I'd just received. "Uh, y-yes. R-right away, Mr. Darencourt." He stuttered slightly as he turned to address the other techs. "Okay people, clear the system! I want all non-essentials killed right now."

     Looks of distress and outrage changed to frustrated resignation as Aber's audience caught sight of Darencourt standing next to him. Aber strode over to a console and began queuing up the requested programs. Within a few minutes the hum of the computers had dropped in pitch, and the workers began filing into the elevator, many casting disgruntled looks at Darencourt's back. As the last of them made their way up to the passageway, Aber returned.

    "Everything is set, sir."

    "You too, Aber." Darencourt tilted his head slightly after the receding white-garbed personnel. An expression on his face like he'd just swallowed a whole gwango fruit, Aber left without a word. He shot me a look that demanded to know who I was, some stranger, to be allowed to stay while he was being forced out of his precious lair.

    Darencourt stepped over to the console and took a seat, slipping the datapack into a receptacle. With a small click, the sliver of silicon locked into place, and the ambient hum around us kicked up noticeably as the decryption program entered into combat with the code. He glanced over his shoulder at me.

    "And now we wait to see these cave pictures of yours."

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    Time dragged on as the progress bar on the console monitor crept upward. Darencourt spent the time tapping busily at a palm-sized communication device, while Waldo sat munching from a pouch of mimir nuts he had produced from a jacket pocket. The drone of the computers penetrated my skull like minuscule massaging fingers, and my eyelids felt leaden; find of the century, impending doom, and all, I dozed off.

    I came to as the console gave a self-satisfied beep and the computer noise dropped back down again. I looked over to see the status bar full, and a message splashed across the screen: DECRYPTION COMPLETE. Darencourt reached out to press a key, initializing the translation program. 

    "Just a few minutes now," Darencourt commented, watching the progress bar tick upwards. 5%-10%-15%...Abruptly the sound of footsteps came from up on the dais, and as one, the three of us turned to see half a dozen black-clad commandos spreading out down the steps, Aber in their midst. Waldo and I leapt to our feet, very different thoughts racing through our minds, I'm sure. Darencourt remained seated, a deadpan expression on his worn face.

    "Finally," I said, a massive weight lifting from me. I stepped toward my saviors.

    "Stay where you are, Doctor Tanbert." The man bearing a squad leader insignia on his right arm ordered harshly, pointing the autobolter strapped over his shoulder at me.

    "But...I'm on your side." I couldn't think of anything more eloquent at that moment.

    "Oh? I see you standing, unbound and unhurt, here with these known criminals, who are currently in possession of stolen property. You look like an accomplice to me." I was at a loss for words; this was insane, how could he possibly think I was involved in this voluntarily? He switched his steely-eyed gaze to Darencourt and the console behind him, as Waldo and I were searched. "That the datapack in that console?" Darencourt nodded curtly. "Good, we'll let it finish the translation, then. It'll save the Provost time."

    He signaled to two of his men. "Go set the charges, the Provost doesn't want one scrap of this place left intact." They jogged off as Aber exploded. Figuratively.

    "WHAT?! You can't do that! You promised you wouldn't damage the complex." The squad leader didn't bother turning as he alternated between watching the console and Darencourt. One of his men pushed the apoplectic scientist toward Waldo and I.

    "I have my orders."

    I peered at the monitor, my heart and mind both setting a mad pace. 75%. My thoughts more in order now, I tried to convince the commandos of my innocence.

    "Look, you have to believe me. These guys just picked me up when I got off the shuttle, and have held me hostage ever since. Darencourt was going to have him kill me!" I said, pointing at Waldo, who stood next to me with his usual bland expression.

    The commander spared me a moment's glance before looking to his men. "If he speaks again, shoot him." I stood speechless yet again, my brain trying to keep up with the breakneck speed at which my situation was taking turns. I'd been kidnapped, threatened, almost killed, and temporarily spared by the bad guys, and now I was being held captive and threatened by the good guys. I'd been spun round and round so many times that I couldn't tell up from down anymore.

    The work station emitted another tone. The commander leaned down to retrieve the translated datapack, and in that moment I saw Darencourt make a microscopic gesture. Waldo closed the distance to the nearest of the three guards in an instant, snapping his neck with practiced ease. He caught the body and swung it around toward another sentinel as he took hold of the dead man's bolter. The weapon made a thick thump sound as it sent a bolt of aluminum-dilarian alloy bursting through the second man's chest, sending bloody bits of tissue spraying onto the floor. I looked away instinctively, sickened, just in time to see Darencourt lunge out of his seat at the startled commander. The datapack went tumbling out his hand and skittered across the floor. 

    Aber shoved past me, almost knocking me off my feet as he dived after the damned piece of silicon like a man possessed. In fact, he had just saved my life, as the third guard opened up on Waldo, with me standing like a fool in between. I heard the bolt crease the air behind my head as I stumbled. Another wet thump came from behind me as I let my momentum carry me forward out of the line of fire. I didn't know if it hit Waldo or the dead man he was holding, and at that moment I didn't care. 

    The commander, though initially caught off balance, had recovered quickly. Darencourt made a grab for his sidearm, but the soldier smashed him brutally against the console, the old man's head leaving a bloody smear as he fell. Aber scooped up the datapack from where it had slid to a stop against another terminal, and began running down one of the corridors segmenting the great machine. With a curse, the commander fired a hurried shot after the fleeing scientist, clipping his shoulder and sending a spatter of crimson across the nearest module. To his credit, Aber stayed on his feet and kept moving until he disappeared around a corner. Behind me came more bolterfire, and I found my feet, being far more sensible than my brain, carrying me forward, away from the ongoing parley of death between Waldo and the last guard.

    At every stride I expected to feel a bolt biting into my back, but it never came. I could only assume Waldo had taken down his opponent and was now keeping the commander occupied. I threw myself around a corner, and ran directly into one of the two commandos sent off to place explosives. I caught a brief glimpse of his startled face as his skull slammed sideways into the wall, and he crumpled to the floor. I looked at him as I lay, stunned, where I'd fallen. He didn't move; his neck was bent at a strange angle against the wall. I swallowed, shocked. Even with everything that had happened to me today, I couldn't believed I had just killed a man.

    I got up and just kept running, as though I could actually outrun what I had done. I don't know how long I sprinted along those passages; it could have been minutes or hours. My brain seemed to have completely shut down, except for one all consuming urge: run. 

    The first thing I became aware of was turning a corner to find the second demolitions commando standing a short distance away, with a bloody Aber sprawled at his feet. Aber caught sight of me, and as much as I wanted to run in the opposite direction, his pleading eyes held me still. Without considering what I was doing, I flung myself at the commando. He was beginning to turn at the sound of my footsteps as I barreled into him, sending us both crashing to the floor next to Aber.

    I realized my mistake almost immediately. I was no match for a trained soldier, something that became apparent as he rolled on top of me, crushing my throat with powerful hands. I flailed wildly, but my blows seemed not to effect him, even as I heard the crack of his nose breaking. I could feel my eyes bulging, my brain screaming for blood, and my lungs for air. My arms dropped limply to my sides as I began to lose consciousness. Abruptly the left side of his head disintegrated into a bloody mist. I looked next to me to see Aber holding the commando's sidearm in a wavering hand.

    After a moment, I pushed the dead man off of me, and got to my knees next to Aber. His lips moved slightly as he tried to speak, but only a few red-tinged bubbles came from his mouth. Before I could even think how I might help him, his eyes went blank. I sat back on my heels, exhausted and surrounded by death. I caught sight of the datapack, still clutched in Aber's hand, and reached over to take it, feeling an almost overwhelming compulsion to smash it, to grind it back into the sand from which it had been forged. All the death it had brought into my life, and I still didn't even know what it had all been for. My eyes fell on the neural interface still clinging to Aber's head.

 

    Coming to a sudden decision, I transfered the device to my own skull. I felt the slight tingle as the interface pressed its electrodes through my hair and onto my scalp. With trembling fingers, I found a clean portion of my pants and wiped the bloody fingerprints from the glassy surface of the datapack, before pressing it into the neural interface's receptacle. Pulling down the viewer before my eyes, I was prompted: ACCESS DATAPACK? With my heart pounding in my ears, I mentally answered 'yes'. The viewer went blank for a moment, and then...

    I saw...

 

    And I heard...

    And the shape of the universe was changed.

Author's Note

I'd be much obliged to anyone who manages to wade through this whole thing and grants me their feedback, points out mistakes, ect.

Reviews

[Onyx_Rayne]

WOW... and... WOW.. I love it! I am a sci fi geek anyway..so, Of course I was going to love this. The plot, the imagery, the dialogue, the conveyance of the vast emotions.. perfect! You definitely have a contender for the "Around and Object" contest.. because you made sure that every movement in this piece centered around that datapack.

As for suggestions, and this is just me, but I would double space between paragraphs...it just gives the piece a , not so harried, feel. It gives the reader a chance to breathe before being tossed back into the constant action of the write. I did find a few teeny errors, but they are really nothing for a piece this length...

towards beginning "built to served"... serve
My new 'friend' pressed me down into a seat facing a thin old man who sat with a small glass of ruby liquor held delicately in on hand. = one...hand around para 10-11
Five steps brought me into small, - "a" small... beginning para around 27 -30 same para "plummeting" = plummeted?
"workers began filing into the elevator, may casting disgruntled looks ...." around para 34 to 38 "may casting..." = many casting...?
"his was neck bent at a strange angle " around para 55-59 "his was neck" = his neck was?
fourth para from the last "but of my blows seemed not to effect him" = but none of my blows seemed to effect him.... or - but my blows seemed not to effect him..?

... All of these things are little editing things...and with the pace of this write, I'm very impressed with the limited amount of errors I found.... This is absolutely sci fi-abulous.. Love it! :)