Charalee
The dizziness returned as she headed through the separate wings toward the Hangar. More than once, Charalee had to stop, leaning against a wall, a table, a door until the dizziness passed. The ache in her head never seemed to improve, despite tweaks to her aedee's protocols. When she'd joined up with Desert Peaks a few years back, she'd gone into beta testing aedee protocols, ones that would allow greater control of her physiology on a genetic level. It was understood that this could cause some unexpected and unintended side-effects, but the possible gains were immense. Being able to direct her body to increase production of cells at a specific site meant that she could accelerate her healing via direct intervention. The inverse was true--she could battle cancer, were it to strike her, the same way. A common feature most women used was to regulate their periods; Charalee could select a specific ovum to release, should she ever wish to have a child. Or twins. Or triplets. It was a matter of greater, larger control. That was why she'd gone along with it. Now, however, the control didn't seem to be working. How was she supposed to pull herself out of this painful, dizzy spiral if her aedee wasn't responding to her requests? With a mental snarl, Charalee spat venom on the memory of the medic whom she'd knocked out in the Medical wing. Charalee had been too easy on the woman, only punching her when she should have punched through her, as she'd done to one of the guards who'd tried to stop her access to the Brig. Whatever that stupid woman had done to her had hampered her aedee's success, and that was enough to drive Charalee into a rage. But the anger wouldn't help her get to the Hangar any sooner. She had to focus on that. Turning the power of her rage into a galvanizing force, Charalee pushed off the current support (it was a table she'd slumped against while passing through a rest area where people would sometimes sit and chat over tea or something equally as insipid) and moved on. The medic thought she'd stop Charalee? Well, that was a mistake on the medic's part. Nothing would keep Charalee from getting out of here. This whole thing was a disaster, and the fact that she'd be the only one to survive would become a sensation and sob-story once she returned to the Vanguard. A couple of lura snuffled at the far end of one of the corridors. So far, she'd been lucky, and the creatures had seemed otherwise occupied. These two, however--of a different type than she'd seen before--blocked the direction she needed to go. They hadn't noticed her, yet, with their strange, skeletal faces and bizarre protuberances up and down their bodies. Instead, they appeared to be fascinated with the vents higher up on the wall. Since the power had returned, Charalee had noticed the air slowly clearing up. One of the lura shivered, its glossy body rocking back and forth. The other one gurgled a response, shivered as well, then hurried away from the juncture of hallways where Charalee had first spotted them. Grimacing against the constant throb in her head, Charalee slid forward, cautiously peeking around the corner. The lura were out of sight. Only once she'd realized that did she feel her heartbeat slow. The attack from the one in the tunnels had been enough to frighten her; no, not frighten, but certainly give her a sense of healthy respect and a desire to keep her distance. A broadcast sounded throughout the Compound, which drew her up. Most people would have received this via their aedees or, if they were part of the imbecile minority of Anachronists, in their handhelds. Still, to ensure that everyone on the Compound got the message, the overhead announcements sometimes came through, as well. "Attention, colonists of Prospero. This is Captain Rall. Primary power has been restored, allowing us to open up the Hangar doors again. We will begin an orderly evacuation of the planet of all those who wish to depart as soon as we can get the transports moving. Once the infestation has been eliminated, we can return and rebuild. For now, please continue to remain calm and orderly. Listen to the crewmembers of our Security force; they have instructions on how to best keep you safe. With restored power, we will be able to service areas that have been locked down and previously inaccessible. Please keep yourselves safe until we can help you. Thank you for your help and cooperation during this trying time." The captain clicked off. Charalee snorted. Was that what leadership looked like to the colonists on Prospero? A man who stayed holed up in his office during a crisis, spoke to them when the end was in sight, and let all those who had been scared by the experience to simply leave? If she'd been in charge, Charalee would never have put the people in a single, tasty group and let them all await their deaths in a single place. The best thing would have been to arm them, have them defeat the creatures--Charalee had nearly done that very thing earlier--and reclaim their homes. Such weakness. Such stupidity. She couldn't get off this rock fast enough. With the power back on, though, she assumed she could get to the Hangar by more conventional means. She again regretted not downloading the information that Nolan had offered her. Based upon the markings on the walls, she was fairly close to the Hangar. There were taxi-pods that would be up and running again, which would transport her the last bit of distance. All she needed to do now was find one. Gritting her teeth, she decided to try one of the people she'd met. They knew the place and could get her to a station. At first, she tried hailing Korryn. The woman was more likely to be willing to talk to her, since Senton was (presumptively) still upset with Charalee for having abandoned him. Plus, she'd had her aedee pick up the comm information when she'd bumped into Korryn in the hallway a few hours before. It had been an impulse and an instinct--which Charalee had learned long ago to always heed--and it paid off now. A moment after attempting to connect, her aedee displayed a message in Charalee's field of vision: COMM FAILED. "Failed?" Charalee frowned. There were a couple possibilities: One, Korryn was asleep and her aedee prevented anything but emergency communications. That was unlikely, considering how stupid it would be to sleep at a time like this. Two, Korryn had deliberately set her aedee to AWAY, preventing the comms to come through. This didn't make sense, though, because there wasn't an ancillary option to try leaving a voice message for her to receive when she became available. The third was that Korryn was dead. Of the three, that was the most likely option, all things considered. Despite her reluctance, Charalee tried for Senton. His query shut down after a few moments of hailing, letting her know that he'd refused her call. "Well, fine. You've always been a prick; no reason to stop now." She glanced about, trying to see if there was anyone who could help her. Then again, Charalee didn't really look particularly trustworthy right now. Blood splattered all over her, and her right arm was crusting over with the guard's blood. She flicked the skin-sheath, which responded to the aedee signal to return to her preferred color, as well as knocking off the offending grime. A moment later, her skin-sheath was back to its black-and-gray format. It didn't do anything for the gore stuck on her hands or the way her hair felt sticky with all sorts of things she didn't want to think about, but she was a survivor, right? No one expected her to look perfect. The moment of self-reflection was over, and now she had to do what she'd been subliminally refusing to do: Call her sister. Ann had obviously managed to get the power back on--so she was (most likely) still alive--but reaching out to her felt like some sort of defeat. Charalee stewed on that for a moment. "Whatever," she said at last. "It isn't worth being stuck here." She shook her head as she queued her aedee's call to Ann Timpson. "Damn place," she said. "Who designed this nightmare anyway?" Whoever it was deserved to be dosed with some of the lura toxin and then left alone with a couple of the-- "Charalee?" said Ann. Her voice was ragged and eager, though Charalee couldn't quite pick out why. "Hey, sis," said Charalee, affecting a raggedness of her own. She tried to sound scared, exhausted, and desperate without going overboard. In her mind, she'd made that work pretty well. "I need some help." "Oh, yeah? Where are you?" "That's the thing: I think I'm lost. How can I get to the Hangar?" "You're not there yet?" "No, I'm still on track." "I'm in a taxi-pod. Can you come to me at the next stop? I'll take you there." Charalee narrowed her eyes. Her sister was sounding almost excited to see her again. That was…unusual. "Well, I don't even know where one would be." "I can come to you. Beam me your location." "I don't have Compound access," she said. "Right, right," said Ann. "Here's what I can do. I'm going to be to the Hangar in about five minutes. I'll send a pathway to you." "What's a pathway?" "It's something we've set up for lost kids who don't have an aedee yet. We use the lights to guide you toward a safe place. The kids know to follow the lights and we can usually find them in only a few minutes after they get lost." "Did you ever think to build the Compound in a logical way instead?" Ann laughed. Charalee didn't think she'd said anything funny. Ann sounded relieved--no, not relieved, necessarily, but less concerned--as she spoke. "That's a different story entirely." "This place is a joke." "It's more of a rhizome, as I heard told." "What the hell does that mean?" "I have no idea. I'll be at the Hangar in a few. From there I can authorize a pathway to get you to me. Any idea where you are? If I can localize it, it'll take less time." Charalee looked around and described what she saw. "Okay," said her sister, "I think I know where you are. Not far away, as it turns out." "Hurry," said Charalee, putting a drop of fear she didn't feel into her words. "I saw some Dentolura hanging around here. I'm not sure if they're completely gone." "I'll be done in a few." Ann disconnected. As her temple returned to its normal temperature, Charalee frowned. There was something in Ann's demeanor that made every instinct bristle. Unfortunately, she didn't know why. It was possible that Ann was simply feeling happy that the crisis was almost over. Having normal lighting in the Compound made a large difference, even in Charalee's jaded view. She looked through a window to the outside world. The green fingers of an approaching dawn made her anxious to be gone. If she did it correctly, she could burn this place behind her as she left. She looked at her hand, coated in the sticky remnants of the man she'd killed. "Maybe I should take care of that before I get to Ann," she said to herself, then headed off to find a lavatory. She didn't want to alarm her sister unduly. |
What is this?This is a NaNoWriMo project that publishes, day by day, the chapters I'm writing for 2017. If you're confused, go to Chapter 1 Ann and start there. ArchivesCategories
All
|