Their Solitary Way (17 page)

“That’s what you’re really upset about, isn’t it?” asked Seth.

“What?”

“Father never loved you. Not like you loved him. Isn’t that what this is really about? A jaded ex-lover getting revenge?”

“You don’t know anything about it!” she snapped.

He shrugged, glancing at the stairs leading to the second floor. “Maybe not. I’m still shutting you down, though.” He started walking.

“I’ll kill them!” she yelled. “Don’t test me!”

“You forget,” he countered. “I’m the head security officer on this ship, and believe me when I tell you…I do my homework. I know what you’ve got access to and what you don’t. Half the reason my job exists is to handle situations exactly like this one.”

“You’re wrong! I have control over the Eden. I can do whatever I want!”

“I know those escape pods are on a self-regulating system, and I know my father’s got the same manual override access card that I have. Even if you
could
hold a pod back from launching, which you can’t, you still wouldn’t be able to stop him.”

Each of the screens in the atrium went black, leaving him alone. Lilith had gone, run off like some temperamental child.

Finally.

Seth climbed the stairs to the second level. He’d taken a chance in calling her bluff. For all he knew, she’d found a way around the existing security protocols. She’d recruited Cain to help make repairs, after all. He could have reworked the system at some point to allow the exact situation she’d described.
Lucky she didn’t think of everything
, Seth thought.

He followed the path until he found the upper door to the central core.

Not long now.

The moment he entered
the central core—Lilith’s inner sanctum—a wave of cold air hit him, momentarily numbing his skin. The lights were low, and darkness covered most of the corridor, which seemed to be made primarily of flat, metallic computer systems. Dots of light blinked in the distance and along the walls, varying in color and size, as though the whole place were alive.

Further in, the walls grew wide and tall, and at their peak a slew of constant glowing dots filled up the room like stars.

He had arrived at last—the heartbeat of the Eden. All he had to do was find the plug and pull, kill the demon in this bottle. He thought back to the map on his communicator. If he remembered it correctly, Lilith’s bio-pod wasn’t far beyond where he stood now. He only had to—

“Get out!” said Lilith from the darkness. A large screen came to life, revealing a set of digital blue eyes.

“Not until I’m done,” he said.

“You have no right to be here!”

“I have every right,” he told her. He walked past the monitor, and her eyes followed him. As soon as he entered the next section several more of them turned on, surrounding him on all sides, lining the walls with identical eyes.

On the far side, he found another door—small and locked, with a label to its side which read, CYBERBRAIN.

“Stop,” begged Lilith.

He slid his security card to unlock the manual override, then grabbed the crank and turned. No one had been in this compartment for years, so everything was a bit stiff. He had to use both hands and half his body weight to pry the metal open, heaving and panting, sweat beading down his face and neck, but eventually the gate came free.

Through the widened crack, he saw a pod similar to the ones in the bay, only it was bulkier and had hundreds of wires coming in and out of its back and sides. The metal was sleek and clean, as though somehow still new. He could almost see his face in the reflection.

At the center of the oval womb, a slit of glass revealed the closed eyes of the woman inside.

A screen blinked above the pod, pulling his gaze towards it. He expected to see her eyes there, but instead found a woman standing alone under the shade of a large tree. She had brown hair, a blemish on her face between her nose and cheek, and a scar under her chin. It was the real Lilith, he knew. The person she’d been before the cyberbrain program. The woman he’d known as a child.

Behind her, an open field with a farm in the distance. Seth’s childhood home. She smiled. “Do you remember this place, Seth?”

“Of course I do,” he muttered.

“I used to visit you as a boy. You called me Aunt Lily. Do you remember?” she asked, and suddenly a boy appeared, young and handsome, laughing as he ran, waving his arms. He went to her, and she picked him up and held him close. Each of them smiled at one another. “You were happy back then. I saw it. I remember.”

He didn’t say anything.

The little boy wrapped his arms around her neck and squeezed. She laughed. “Such a loving child.”

Seth stared at the boy, saying nothing.

“That was the day the flowers bloomed,” he told him. “Petals covered everything, even the sky.”

At once, yellow flower petals began to fall from somewhere far above, gently gliding through the air. Soon the wind picked up, tugging them along to someplace else. “I remember,” said Seth.

The little boy tried to grab a few of the petals, but he wasn’t fast enough. “It was the last time I got to see you,” said Lilith. “Before the accident.”

The accident. The one that crippled her and put her here.

“I miss those days,” she said. “Don’t you?”

He did, indeed. Not a day went by where he didn’t think of his time on Kadmon Farm or the fields of Fiore. He’d made love to Azura under that very tree. It was the same spot they first confessed their love, there, wrapped in a blanket, her cheek against his neck.

He knew every inch of this wild country, and it was doubtful he’d ever forget it, but time had since moved on. Every moment he spent aboard the Eden, spiraling towards some unseen future, was one removed from Fiore. One day soon, his time away would outnumber the days he spent there. He would have to move on with his life. There was no going back. Not for him. Not for anyone.

The boy and the farm were lies, dead and buried on a broken, burning world a million stars away.

Only the future remained.

“I’m sorry,” he said, turning away from the screen. “It’s time for both of us to let go.”

“Seth, wait,” she said.

He placed his hand on the pod, leaning in to see the girl inside. He stared into Lilith’s face, the cyberbrain for the last remaining human ship in all the galaxy. Taking his card, he inserted it into the manual override.

“Seth, don’t!” she pleaded.

A message appeared on the side of the pod, asking whether he was certain he wanted to open the pod. Two buttons lit up.

Accept or decline.

“Stop!” cried Lilith. “Please! You’ll kill me if you open that pod. You’ll murder me!”

Seth touched the access button and watched, curiously, as the pod cracked like an egg and decompressed. The top half rose high into the air, suspending itself two feet above the body inside. When it was done, Seth stepped closer to see the woman before him.

Lilith was pale and bald, with wires protruding from her skull and into the back of the pod. She had a hairless and smooth face, but it was far more wrinkled than her age should allow. Scars covered her neck and chest, probably from the accident and subsequent cyberbrain surgeries. She had little muscle mass or fat, giving her the appearance of a sickly, old woman. It was enough to give him pause, looking at her here, a shell of the woman she used to be.

“Get away!” shouted Lilith from the monitor, but he refused to look.

Instead, he touched her cheek with the palm of his hand, and suddenly he wondered how someone so small could be so cruel. “I’m sorry this happened to you,” he whispered. “But now it’s time to go.”

“No!” Lilith screamed.

He gripped the side of her skull and ripped the cords from her brain.

At once, the woman’s face came alive, revealing a set of gray, cold eyes, wild and afraid, and she took a loud gasp. Her first taste of air in decades.

Her chest heaved, and she tried and failed to lift her head. She looked at him with quivering lips and trembling eyes. She opened her mouth to speak.

He leaned in close.

“I didn’t mean it,” she breathed.

And then she gasped, but soon relaxed. The muscles in her face went still, and her eyes grew distant and empty. She had given up the ghost at last.

Only the shell remained.

Seth looked at the
screen where Lilith had been—where only a moment ago, a little boy stood laughing under the Fiore sun. Only blackness remained. A digital void of nothing.

Suddenly, he felt alone, the air around him lifeless, as though the Eden itself had died.

Then, as though to answer him, an alert erupted from the speakers, and an automated voice came with it. “Warning. Self-destruct sequence initiated. Core magnetic field destabilization imminent. Abandon ship immediately.”

Seth’s eyes went wide. Did he fail to kill her? No, this voice was different. Mechanical. Lifeless. This was just a program. It must have been set to activate in the event of her death.
Shit
, thought Seth, backing away from Lilith’s pod. He had to get out of here, and fast.

Seth ran through the cyberbrain’s central core, hitting one of the servers and sliding onto the floor. He scurried to his feet and continued, the sound of the server falling and crashing behind him. He emerged from the cold darkness of the chamber and into the light of the outer atrium. From there, he bolted to the stairs, leaping three or four steps at a time.

When he finally reached the bottom, he made his way to his brother who was still lying there unconscious.

Still breathing, too
, Seth thought, relieved.

Carefully, but quickly, he launched his brother over his shoulder, and he moved. The nearest escape pods weren’t that far, but time was of the essence. Seth wasn’t a strong man, despite being a security officer. He immediately regretted not training with Steven when he had the chance.

He doubled back through the same way he’d entered, heading into the atrium’s tunnel and coming out the other side. When he arrived at the outer doors, he had to reposition Cain so he could fit them both through. All this maneuvering might end up costing him more time than he had, but he refused to leave his brother behind.

With Cain’s body on his back, he fumbled through the corridor, his knees almost buckling beneath him. He soon came to a stop, shortly before reaching the crater where the first explosion had occurred. Carefully, he crept through it, one step after the other, until he made it through. Sweat poured from his forehead, dripping into his eyes and mouth, the taste and burn of salt filling his senses.

He reached the fork in the hall, then took the second path. In the distance, he could already see an opening, and he pushed himself to get there, knowing it wouldn’t be much further.

There were several corridors shooting off from the next area. Thankfully, this room had a terminal he could access a map on. Using his security card, he called it up in only a few seconds.

Most of the offshoots led to pods, but he couldn’t risk using the same ones Paul and Michael had. The terminal allowed him to see which of the pods were still there, or even functional. According to the map, three of them had power issues, which meant they were off the table. Two others had been used by his squad. That left two remaining, fully functional pods.

Carrying his brother, Seth weaved through the second hall and entered the docking port. If he was lucky, the monitor in the bay had been correct and he would have no problem launching this one into space. If the sensors were damaged, for whatever reason, this would be the end.

He made it to the first pod, set his brother against the wall, and tapped the screen near the hatch. It came alive, displaying a warning message.

FOR EMERGENCY USE ONLY. INITIATE?

He tapped the acknowledge button and the screen flashed green, opening the pod door. Now all he had to do was get his brother in here and—

Something hit Seth in the ribs and threw him against the wall, knocking the wind out of him. He fell on the floor, gasping for air, his eyes watering. Before he could react, a leg hit him in the chest, and he fell to the side.

Cain towered above him, blood dripping from his face, half his hair singed from his skin. His eyes were red and violent, and he screamed a violent cry as he charged again.

Seth could hardly breathe, but moved anyway, raising his arm to shield himself.

Cain kicked him a second time, but missed, stumbling to the floor.

Seth wheezed, holding his side with one hand while clinging to the wall with the other, trying to stand. “It’s over, Cain,” he said, gasping. “The ship’s about to self-destruct. We have to get out here now.”

“Go to hell!” cried Cain in a raspy voice, as though his throat were filled with blood. But he didn’t get up. Instead, he started crying, wailing sobs and pounding his forehead into the floor. “You’ve ruined it all! I loved her. I loved her! You ruined everything.”

Seth took another breath and, half standing, edged his way to his brother’s side. Lifting Cain’s arm over his shoulder, he got him to his feet. Cain said nothing, his body limp and useless.

“Destabilization in two minutes,” announced the ship.

Seth placed Cain inside the pod. “We’ll take this one together. There’s not enough time to prepare another.” He typed his personal authorization code—everyone on the crew had one—and the latch began to shut.

“No!” shouted Cain, suddenly. He leapt from the seat, knocking Seth into the pod. The door began to close, shutting him inside.

“Cain!” screamed Seth, but it was too late. The latch was too far closed, and it couldn’t be reopened. He banged on the glass, shouting his brother’s name. “Cain, you bastard!”

Cain stood there, staring through the window, watching as the pod moved into position, preparing to eject. A force-field replaced the part where the pod had been, and Cain watched from behind it, a vacant expression on his face.

“Destabilization in sixty seconds,” announced the com from inside the pod.

Seth grabbed the com. By default, the pod’s system should be linked to the local docking bay. “Cain!” he yelled into the console. “Run! Get to a pod!”