The Darwin Elevator

He blinked.



Skyler thought she’d delivered the demand with perfect intonation. Just shy of an order, slightly more than a suggestion.



The weasel ran a hand over his balding head. “And the second thing?”



“My assistant, Natalie Ammon. I’d like to see her. I want to know she is okay.”



He shifted in his chair, uncomfortable. The request was impossible, and Skyler enjoyed watching the man squirm.



“Fix the terminal first,” he said.



“I’ll fix the terminal,” Tania said with confidence, “after you feed Black Level and bring my assistant here.”



Skyler watched the man, sensed his machinations. Tania’s brilliant idea just might work: make two requests, one impossible so the other becomes more palatable.



“Your second request cannot be done,” he said evenly.



Tania surged forward. “You goddamn monsters—”



“Hold on,” the man said, raising his hands. “She’s fine, she’s just not here.”



“Where is she?” Tania rasped.



“Blackfield took her.”



A tense silence fell over the room.



“Where?” Skyler asked.



“None of your business, Nera.”



“Fine,” Tania said, “fine. Feed my staff then, at least. Let the janitors clean up a bit.”



The man’s lower lip curled into the hint of a frown. “I’ll give the order now if you start immediately, and you can stay here and monitor the progress. Fair enough?”



“Deal.”



“Deal,” Skyler said.



“Nera, piss off,” the man said. “Go find a hole and crawl in—”



Tania took a half step forward and stood firm between them. “He stays.”



“Why?”



“He’s the only one of you who has treated me with dignity.”



“Oh great,” he groaned. “Just the quality I look for in a jailer.”



Skyler smiled proudly.



“Paul!” the commander shouted. A few seconds later another guard, whom Skyler and Tania had passed on the way in, entered and gave a vague salute. “Have we found the food storage yet?”



“It’s a big station,” Paul said.



“Red Level,” Tania said. “Room eight.”



The administrator shrank back in his seat. He rubbed his temples with his index fingers. “I need a bloody drink. All right, I want all available guards to secure their areas, then report to Red Level. Food and water are to be delivered to any occupied rooms starting with the janitorial staff, understand?”



“Yes, sir.”



“Let the janitors haul food and water after that, to every level. Allow use of the restroom to the station personnel. One level at a time, under surveillance.”



“Roger.”



“I want regular status updates. Dismissed.” The soldier named Paul saluted, turned on his heel, and left the room. The commander shot a glance at Skyler. “You see, Nera? That’s called competence.”



“You did handle it well, sir.”



“I meant him—Jesus, forget it.” He stepped away from the desk and held the back of the chair, motioned to Tania. “Dr. Sharma, the terminal?”



“What do I call you? Captain?”



“Edgar will do.”



“Captain Edgar, then.”



He grimaced. “Administrator, if you must.”



Tania took a seat at the desk, while Skyler hovered near the door. He watched the administrator position himself behind Tania, watching her every keystroke.



Tania worked at the keyboard for a long time, in silence. Occasionally she would shake her head in frustration, and mumble some jargon that Edgar pretended to understand.



A handheld radio on the desk crackled to life. The guard Paul’s voice came through. “Administrator?”



Edgar picked it up. “Go ahead.”



“I’ve gathered most of the men. We’ll start unpacking the food now.”



“Proceed. Keep me posted.” He set the radio back down.



The report marked Skyler’s cue. A pulse of nervous energy coursed through him and he gave it a few seconds to subside. Relax, here goes.



“Hey,” Skyler said, “about that shower video. Can I see—”



Edgar laughed nervously. “Nera, may I speak with you outside for a moment?”



“Of course.”



The balding man stepped around the table and barreled past Skyler without making eye contact. Skyler offered a wink to Tania, then turned and followed him out into the hallway.



“What is your problem?” he hissed at Skyler.



“Sir?”



“Do you have no filter on that stupid mouth of yours?”



Skyler feigned surprise. “Filter? What did I say?”



“The video, you idiot.”



“Of her bridal shower?”



A stream of profanity gushed from Edgar’s mouth as he stomped across the hall and back. “Her goddamn shower. Not a bridal shower, an actual shower.”



Skyler kept his face blank.



“Water? Soap?”



Skyler slowly raised his eyebrows. “Oh … Oh!”



“Finally he understands! It’s a fucking miracle!”



They stood facing each other. Skyler thought the man might be on the verge of a heart attack, the way his breathing came in such short bursts.



“So,” Skyler said, “can I see it?”



He thought the man might try to hit him then. He might have, if an alarm had not sounded. Edgar turned to face the office, a word forming on his lips.



He never saw the punch Skyler threw. The blow landed squarely on Edgar’s cheek. Completely unprepared for it, the punch spun him halfway around. Skyler moved fast, pressed the advantage. He threw an uppercut that only glanced off Edgar’s neck.



On unsteady footing, Edgar lashed out. The fist caught Skyler just under the nose, splitting his upper lip.



Skyler tasted blood. He grabbed Edgar by the collar of his shirt and threw the man’s head forward, simultaneously bringing up his own knee to meet it. A savage impact, the bone of Skyler’s kneecap crunching into Edgar’s face. The man bleated. He collapsed on the floor, moaned, and fell silent.



Tania’s eyes were wide with horror when Skyler pulled the body, feetfirst, into the office.



“Your lip,” she said.



“It’s nothing. What’s with the alarm?”



She swallowed. Skyler realized that the fear in her expression was not from Edgar’s limp body. “I sealed Red Level.”



“Good thinking.”



She remained impassive. “I wasn’t lying about the location of the stores.”



“Ah.” Skyler began to think through the ramifications. Basic sundries would be critical in the coming weeks. “So we scavenge, then. From the other levels. Drain the water pipes, pack whatever food people have stashed in their rooms.”



“It might not be enough.”



Skyler knelt by her. “People can be resourceful. Trust me.”



“There’s no time. The guards will find the manual override.”



He thought she looked pale, exhausted. “Maybe. They’re not the brightest chaps.”



“Your lip looks terrible.”



Skyler went back to Edgar’s body and tore a chunk of the man’s shirtsleeve off. He pressed it to his lip, wincing with the stab of pain. “I’ll get someone to look at it later. Don’t change the subject.”



She smiled at that. It was something, and Skyler smiled back.



Tania said, “Now that the system hard-lock is removed, I need to restart the interstation mesh from the Computer Lab.”



“How far?”



“This level. Not far.”



He went back to Edgar’s body and unholstered the man’s pistol. He handed it to Tania. “Know how to use that?”



“You asked me before, in Hawaii.”



“Right, I forgot. And you haven’t learned in the meantime?”



She frowned at the sarcasm. “It’s not in my nature, Skyler.”



“I know. I think it’s why I like you so much.”



He smiled at her as she returned the weapon.



Skyler rounded the door frame of the main computer lab, sweeping his gun across the semidark room. “Empty,” he said.



Tania followed him inside. “Back there,” she said, pointing toward a door at the far end of the room.



Skyler moved to and opened the door. Also empty. He let Tania in and guarded the door as she set to work on the computer systems.



“Sixty seconds,” she said over angry beeps emanating from the machine.



“What’s after this?”



She tapped the edge of the desk, waiting for the process to complete. “I’ll unlock all the doors. Can you make an announcement on the intercom? We need everyone to get to Black Level as quickly as they can. My janitor friends can coordinate it.”



“You’d better make the speech. They know you.”



Tania considered this. “Second time someone told me that. I suppose you’re right,” she said. A slightly sinister expression crossed her face. “You’d better find something else to wear,” she said, “unless you want to be mistakenly tossed out the airlock.”



Skyler looked down at himself. The disheveled Nightcliff uniform had bloodstains from the split lip he had suffered. He glanced up to find that Tania had already refocused on the terminal.



He felt a growing admiration for her. The bold plan Neil provided had serious, world-changing ramifications. There would be no turning back. And yet she worked with determined efficiency, so much so that Skyler had refrained from questioning the plan.



“Watch,” Tania said.



The large screen on the wall came to life. Skyler saw a schematic view of the Elevator, each station along the cord represented by icons. Having flown the entire length of it over the last few days, he recognized the layout.



“The farm platforms are clumped in groups of four,” she said, tapping rapidly on the keyboard. “There’s twenty in all.”



Skyler focused on them, remembering how massive they were, much bigger than the other stations. They resembled snowflakes, he thought, with numerous branching arms each made up of huge tube-shaped segments.



As he watched the screen, one after another turned red.



Skyler swallowed. “Are there people on those?”



“Minimally staffed,” Tania said. “I’ve instructed them to proceed immediately to the personnel sections.”



“At least they won’t have to worry about food,” Skyler said.



Over the next few minutes, Skyler and Tania watched in silence as the agriculture platforms separated from the Elevator. They all drifted at the exact same speed, in the same direction.



All except one.



“I’m so sorry, Natalie,” Tania whispered. A tear rolled down her cheek.



Skyler had no words to comfort her. The plan she’d concocted with her assistant did not factor Russell taking one of them to the surface.



Tania sat back and wiped her tears away with the palms of her hands. “I suppose it’s our turn now.”



“We still have Nightcliff guards aboard.”



“I’m terrified, Skyler.” Her voice distant, shaky. “We’re leaving Darwin to starve. I … my God, I’ve doomed them.”



He grasped her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. “No, you have not. The only way Darwin will starve is if the council, or whoever is in charge, refuses to talk.” The words sounded trite out of his mouth. She remained still, unconvinced. “Neil anticipated all of this,” he added. “He devised this plan because it will work. Believe that, and see it through.”



The statement registered. Tania began to nod, and wiped away another tear forming at the corner of her eye.



“We should hurry,” Skyler said.



“Okay. You’re right. Just one last thing.”



Skyler watched the screen as Tania composed a broadcast message containing nothing but a set of coordinates. She encrypted the text with a key Skyler guessed Neil Platz had provided her. “So Neil’s people will know where to go?” he asked.



“If they don’t show up, we’re dead,” she said, and sent the message. Then she pushed back the chair and stood. “Let’s get everyone to Black Level and seal it off.”



Chapter Forty-seven



Gemena, Congo



17.FEB.2283



The small armada of aircraft rested on a blackened clearing, fanned in a rough circle. The fast, opaque waters of the Congo snaked around the spit of charred land on three sides.



Along the fourth edge of the clearing, a thick jungle canopy billowed black smoke, aglow with flames.



The explosions had been enormously satisfying. Russell had never experienced launching a missile before. Or two. Certainly not a salvo of sixteen. But his new Elevator site needed clear land, and a little barrage of Medusa rockets did just the trick.



Upon landing he’d ordered a perimeter set up. So far the soldiers had not encountered any subhumans. Not by sight, at least. Some wails and shrieks could be heard echoing through the burning trees, intermingled with the calls of an untold number of native birds.



The sound gave him a headache. Or perhaps it was the uncomfortable outfit he wore. Stale air came through the reprocessing apparatus—built by bloody Platz Industries, of course—on his back. It made Russell feel like he did in orbit:a sardine. Still, he refused to show his discomfort.



“Anything from second squad?” He knelt on the open cargo ramp of his recently commandeered aircraft. The fleet, eighteen craft in all, had been largely supplied by the slumlord Grillo, who asked for surprisingly little in return. Just a face-to-face meeting, after they returned. Russell fully expected demands would be made then, and he would be more than happy to sit and listen. As far as he was concerned, that was all he was obligated to do.