The Pandora Machine (The ABACUS Protocol Book 2) Page 11

  “Clearly, I’m the better—” Alec began, before getting cut off by Sven, his voice rapid as he jumped up from his chair.

  “We have a reply! Node three-five-nine is transmitting that they’re dispatching rescue ships and relief crew!”

  The skeleton crew broke out into whispered conversations, but Jules remained quiet. Alec asked: “Where is node three-five-nine?”

  “I’m not sure, let me look it up,” Sven said, turning back to his desk.

  “Caesarea.” The room went silent as Jules spoke the name of his former world. His smile was gone, replaced by a grimace.

  “I hate those guys,” Alec groaned.

  “They’re just coming to help, and they have the resources to do just that. Now, let’s put our feelings aside and save galactic commerce. We can complain about them later.” Sven wore an unreadable expression, but the stern conviction of his words had most of the staff nodding before looking back to their work. Only Jules maintained his dour expression.

  “Is anyone else coming?” Vivian asked. It was impossible that only Caesarea would have responded—there were dozens of planets capable of mounting a rescue effort directly connected to the hub. But, it was likely that Janus had censored their distress call for his own amusement.

  “Not yet. I’m sure they will, though.” Sven just shrugged, frown lines etched across his forehead. “They’ll be here within the hour. I suggest that we all eat some rations and rest.”

  “I’ll be working on the computer,” Vivian said before charging off into the core. She had work to do; she couldn’t afford to take time to rest. The Romans were coming, and she didn’t want to stick around for their arrival. One Bryce had been a living nightmare, a population of Caesareans would be intolerable.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Alec maintained his grin as he stood next to Sven and Jules at the old Earth port, their agreed upon meeting ground with the Primus Pilus—whatever that was. There was a golden arch outlining the closed dock doors, and a laurel plaque silhouetting Earth’s nameplate. A team of about a half-dozen Aurorans hastily moved bodies into an adjoining storage room. Alec expected the Pilus to be a man in a toga and a stupid bronze-age helmet. His second guess would be a snappy dresser in a trench coat and lightning bolts on his cap. Was he confusing Romans with something else? Probably, but he was trying to make up a way to be amused with the situation. The dead continued their silent vigil—strewn across the floor. Alec found himself growing numb to their presence, the tragedy growing into a mere annoyance. He was even dulled to the certainty of Annette’s demise, his previous desperation replaced by a spreading inner emptiness.

  The artificial lighting glared overhead, and he stared at the round door for node-zero-zero-one—Earth. That simple airlock had once shuttled his ancestors on their way to and from his ancestral home world. Of course, Alec had a few too many genetic modifications to be considered homegrown, but his heart and soul were still human. He hoped that the people of Earth would find their way through that door again, one day. Alec was sure they’d be impressed by their vision and legacy. Sven stood in front of Alec by a couple of paces, and he shifted in his feet. The Auroran port sat to the right of the Earth gate, and gazed at the old style etched metal signage. Alec only sighed.

  A series of lights blinked above the Earth dock and the ancient airlock began to open. Metal ground against metal as it drew itself open. Alec swallowed hard as he watched the round door open. Six men dressed in gray combat fatigues with a red sash around the waist marched into the room, their deep olive skin and dark hair framed by smooth, unadorned bronze helmets. They held laser rifles, and their eyes burned with the promise of violence and the certainty of conquest.

  Another man stepped out from behind the file his eyes skimming the scene. Alex found himself underwhelmed by the man’s grey uniform, only distinguished from his colleagues by a deep purple sash and the lack of accompanying headgear.

  “You’re the Calypso Station staff?” the man asked.

  Alec was relieved that the Primus Pilus didn’t begin with “Fire at will, dissect the Elyssian and Aurorans for the Imperatrix’s amusement!” so he stepped forward and said: “Calypso Station Administrator Alec Stone at your service, and Borealis Corporation’s Sven Brown. We welcome any and all assistance Caesarea can provide.” Alec didn’t want to think about how corny he sounded as he delivered the stilted dialogue.

  “Well said, Alec Stone. I am Primus Pilus Gaius Lupus, and I command the Space Operations of the Caesarean Imperial Legion. Is your status unchanged?” The man’s voice was deep and well-practiced and his wrinkled-lined face betrayed no emotion.

  “It’s good we’re in capable hands. Our status is unchanged. We now have minimal computer control and our informatics engineer is working to extract incident logs.” Alec had rehearsed the words over and over in his head. He didn’t really know what any of it meant.

  “Very good, Alec. Is there anything else we should be aware of?”

  “Nothing I can think of,” Alec said. He wasn’t about to mention the phantom survivor in the cargo bay. It would raise too many questions, and he felt no inclination to explain how he got locked into the cargo bay to a wannabe Roman commander.

  The man turned to his men before speaking: “Rosen, I need you to organize and catalogue all travelers by citizenship. Observe proper burial protocol for Caesarean citizens. Aster, have the engineering and logistics relief as well as a security contingent accompany us to the control room.” Two of his guards nodded and turned, marching back into the ship.

  “Security?” Sven asked, breaking his silence.

  “This station is the newest addition to the Celestial Roman Empire. You are now subjects of the Imperatrix and the all-seeing Goddess Juno. I expect your obedience—I am a fair commander. Wouldn’t you agree, Jules Lepidus?”

  Alec’s jaw went slack, his mind reeling.

  “Since I’m still alive, I would tend to agree.” Jules spoke with his usual wit, but neither his mirth or habitual smirk made it into the delivery.

  “Fortunately for you, I have the luxury of ignoring imperial decrees in favor of solving our immediate predicament. Just don’t break any more of our laws if you can avoid it.”

  “No, sir. I don’t think I could pull off that little stunt again even if I wanted to.” Jules shoved his hands in his pockets, and his gaze dropped to the floor.

  “What do you mean we’re subjects of the Imperatrix?” Sven asked, taking a step forward. Two of the guards drew their weapons and pointed them at Sven.

  “You think the Imperatrix would undertake this grand humanitarian expense for no reward?” A smile crept across the man’s face as he waved to his men. They lowered their weapons, but their eyes were wide open and fixed on Sven. One man’s nostrils flared as he breathed, and another clenched his jaw in short, repeated bursts.

  “Why us?” Sven demanded.

  “I don’t think she wants us, Sven.” Alec found his voice at last.

  “You’re a clever fellow, Alec. Perhaps my governorship will have use for your continued services. We want the station, plain and simple. Now, let’s get moving—you can be made to appreciate the greatness of our plans while we save the galactic economy.” The man made a quick gesture with his left hand, and his four cohorts fell in on both sides of Alec’s party.

  They began to walk at a brisk pace. Alec grit his teeth against the renewed surge of pain in his legs—if he was to survive this, he knew he’d have to appear strong. Being an Elyssian was an extreme liability, especially when dealing with Cesareans. Though, Gaius didn’t appear to be so bad. Sure, he’d taken over the station and installed himself as Governor, but there was no one left alive who was willing or experienced enough to do the job.

  “So, what’s going to change with you in charge?” Alec asked, casting a sidelong glance at the Roman commander. Sven and Jules walked ahead of them.

  The man chuckled. “I’m glad you asked. I plan on cutting out the bureaucratic ineffici
ency, wasteful tariffs and advancing galactic trade and commerce. Additionally, this station is in sore need of modernizing—something the Caesarean people excel at. In short, you will find your lives much improved.”

  Alec found himself nodding as the man spoke. “Then what?”

  “That’s up to you, my friend. You all have the liberty of weighing all the options the Fates have granted you.”

  “But, on Caesarea—” Sven began, before being cut off.

  “The Goddess has decreed things must change for our people to prosper and take our place among the leaders of the galaxy. She is ancient, wise and her words ring true to me. The old Caesarea must end—recent events have shown that our way of thinking is too old, and too closed to the infinite possibilities of the universe.”

  “You always were a dissident, Gaius. Don’t pretend a Goddess came up with that. Who is the Goddess, anyways?” Jules broke his silence and stopped, turning to face Alec and Gaius. The guards again brought their weapons to bear, their faces stony against the promise of imminent violence.

  “Ah, Jules Lepidus. We live in a time of miracles. You are still alive, I’m a free man, and a computer became our all-knowing Goddess. Isn’t that fascinating?” The man flashed his teeth in a grin that chilled Alec to the bone.

  “You mean Seneca, don’t you?” Jules asked.

  “Seneca is no more—by holy decree, she became Juno. Even the Imperatrix grovels before her.”

  Jules’ mouth fell open, but no words emerged.

  “You mean, like ABACUS?” Sven’s voice was quiet, and he’d paled, his skin becoming a chalky blue.

  “We are not fools, my friend. Unlike the administration of this station, we have learned to embrace the superior, the perfect intellectual might that is our Goddess. You will come to appreciate her ruthless cunning and deep love of humanity.”

  ABACUS. There was another ABACUS, loose and free in the universe. This was worse than quIRK with his damned antiblue and cats a million times over. Alec’s legs went weak, and he slid down against the wall. “ABACUS?” he whispered, his hands trembling.

  The commander leaned down, and studied Alec’s face—for a moment, the other man seemed as inhuman as a machine before a look of concern flashed across his face. “She is not the great evil we all feared, Alec Stone, you will see,” he said as he extended a hand.

  Alec paused for a moment, and accepted the outstretched hand. The man pulled him back to his feet, and swung Alec’s arm over his shoulder. Alec froze for a moment, before letting the other man’s strength support him. Jules and Sven both wore the same wide eyes and slack jaws, and Sven crossed his arms against his chest.

  “Let’s get to the command center, you all must rest—let your Caesarean brothers tend to the dead and the damage. We can discuss future business arrangements later, once the dead are given the proper respect and a medic will tend to your needs. There is a place for all with us.”

  Alec hung his head and sighed. Thoughts raced through his head, and the white walls seemed to be closing in on him. He let the commander guide him to the control room. There wasn’t anything else he could do.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Alec sat in a chair in the conference hall adjoining the Hub’s control room, with his feet propped up on a desk. The bright lights hurt his eyes, and the holographic screens on the walls projected a mass of unintelligible symbols and charts. A pair of Caesarean technicians stood with Sven, jotting notes into hand held pads. He rubbed his shins, wincing as a Caesarean medic stooped over him, hovering a scanner over him like some arcane wand from a fairy tale. The worst was yet to come. Annette had been found, and they were about to bring her out.

  Alec bit his lip as he watched two Aurorans carry Annette’s body out of the conference room and into the waiting arms of a pair of Caesarean guards. Jules’ hand gripped his shoulder, holding him down in the chair as the medic scanned his bones for micro-fractures or other injuries related to his low bone mass. He choked on a sob. She was so still, like a perfect doll in the shape of Annette. They made those, didn’t they? He struggled to rise again, only to be forced into his seat by Jules and the medic, who jabbed him with a needle full of nanobots before muttering something and leaving the room. The nano-sized healers tingled under his flesh as they worked through his body, repairing his damaged bones. Alec’s legs tingled, and his toes threatened to explode. His hands gripped the arms of his chair and he cursed. Jules walked off.

  “Don’t go in there, Jules. Let her work!” Sven yelled from across the room as Jules once again walked towards the computer room door.

  Alec startled back into reality, and rubbed the tears from his eyes while nobody was looking.

  “What? Maybe she needs a pep talk. It’s not good to be alone so much.” The man shrugged his shoulders and went back to pacing. They were alone in the conference room—the Caesareans had made quick work of the corpses.

  “Well, the last thing she needs is a fugitive like you distracting her. Now stay put or your job is gone. I expect you both on the shuttle in an hour.” Sven stalked out the door, and slammed it.

  Alec winced at the sound. “I wonder what his problem is.”

  “He’s probably jealous. Bad boyshave all the fun, remember?” Jules flashed Alec his bright smile, but the dark circles under his eyes told another story.

  “What did you do, exactly?” Alec sniffed and rubbed a sore eye.

  “Well, I guess you wouldn’t see it as much of a crime.” Jules snorted, and took a seat at the conference table opposite Alec.

  “Now you have me intrigued.” Alec sighed. He should be sleeping while he waited for his ride back to Calypso. There was nothing else for him to do here. He longed to run to Annette’s body, despite his reconstituting bones, and press his lips against hers.

  “Well, I stole a slave—that’s the simplest way I can say it.” Jules rubbed his hands together.

  “They don’t put death warrants out for breach of contract, even on Caesarea. But, I can see why it’s not much of a crime. Maybe we should give you a medal.” Alec rolled his eyes.

  “They do if you steal the Imperatrix’s favorite pleasure slave,” Jules said with a dry chuckle.

  “You did what?” Alec’s mouth dropped open.

  “Hey, it wasn’t that hard. A few bribes and it’s easy to get off world to elope.”

  “Okay, so why didn’t you tell me about this before?”

  “It’s not really something I talk about. I wouldn’t have, either, if my dear friend Lupus hadn’t brought it up.” Jules groaned and lay his head down on the table.

  “Why did you do it?”

  “For love, my friend. He was amazing, and it all seemed so perfect at the time.”

  Alec found himself nodding, the image of Annette’s smile blazing across his thoughts “So, where is he now?”

  “He left me after a few months. Requested asylum on Kanadia Prime and that was that. There’s a reason they don’t let slaves and commoners off world, but I really thought we’d had something. I guess not.”

  “So he left you on the hook for it and ran off. Was it worth it?”

  “I’ve had a lot of time to think about that. I did it for all the wrong reasons, but I know I did the right thing by freeing him. Slavery is wrong, Alec, no matter what form it takes. The five year standard contract on Caesarea is the most predatory thing you’ll ever see.” He pushed his hands under his chin, and gave Alec the impression of looking like a very sad Elyssian bloodhound.

  “I won’t argue with that.” Alec stared out the window his left, watching their new Caesarean overlords buzz about the control room. Sven and Lupus seemed to be having yet another heated discussion. Alec hoped Sven would stay out of trouble.

  “I get the feeling that you want to talk about something else. The administrator, perhaps?”

  “There’s nothing left to say,” Alec said.

  “Maybe not to her, but I know what it’s like to lose someone you care about. He might still be alive
on Kanadia Prime, but Jupiter knows grief can tear you up inside.”

  “There had to be something I could have done, Jules. I’m sure you went over it in your head so many times, wishing you’d done things differently, or seen it coming. It was all so senseless.” Tears rolled down Alec’s hot face. He swallowed, hard, and nudged his chair so his back was to the window. He hadn’t been so destroyed in a long time, even when quIRK had tried to play the “rhymes with blob” game with him after Devon’s death.

  Jules walked over and handed Alec a tissue from the dispenser in the corner of the room. “My mother always said: If you can’t cry, you’re not a human—a little liberal for Caesarea, I know, but she was right. You’re a good man, Alec. It will take time, but you have great friends, Vivian, myself, even Sven. We’ll help you.”

  “Thank you, but let’s keep this between us for now, shall we?” Alec managed a contorted smile through the tears. The a tissue against his face, drying his tears but doing little to soothe his broken heart.

  “Anything.” Jules pulled a chair close to Alec. “Why don’t you tell me about her? We have just under an hour, and she sounds like an amazing girl.”

  “She really was,” Alec said. If only I’d told her that while she was still here, he thought. His mother always told him to speak his mind, and he always had. This one exception would be one of the things he’d regret for the rest of his life. He closed his eyes and imagined the towering trees and waterfalls of his world, before taking one more deep breath to center himself.

  An hour wouldn’t be enough.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  “If you return station control I can keep working from my lab back on Calypso. We can find a way to resolve this, but we just need a lot more time and fewer aspiring Romans,” Vivian said. It had taken some convincing, but she might have just figured a way out of this that didn’t involve more meaningless deaths, or revealing her secret.