ONE
THE FIRST thing Atom hears when he wakes up is the sound of running water, which is one of the last things you want to hear on a spaceship.
His mind is quick to remind him of this fact. But the rest of his body takes its sweet time to react. A danger siren assaults the air around him. He replies with only the sound of labored breathing. Through fluttering eyelids he manages to catch glimpses of his situation.
The source of the running water appears to be the green acid currently spitting through the cracked glass window at the front of his ship. The floor is covered with it, and the rest of the cockpit is rapidly filling with this unknown substance. A layer of yellow-green foam sloshes over the top of his white boots and continues to crawl up his legs as the water level rises with each passing minute. Atom watches it slosh against the control panel. Very quickly the computers inside it are fried beyond repair.
Stars and sparks cascade in ripples across his dry wide eyes. Blinking heavily, Atom scrambles for the backpack secured to the left wall of the hull.
His own safety straps keep him glued to the pilot chair. He slaps at the clasps until he's free and reaches up to tear at the elastic cords containing the backpack. By the time it falls free the acid has reached his waist and the jostling he took in the crash-landing is threatening to pull him back to sleep, sooner rather than later.
Plunging his gloved hand into the glowing green liquid Atom blindly feels for the emergency release lever for the exit hatch. The acid hisses at the intrusion, but it isn't potent enough to penetrate his space suit. The hatch groans in protest, but it opens, and humbly invites the destructive waters to fill the rest of his trashed ship.
Crushing the backpack to his chest, Atom slips through the opening.
He searches for the surface but only sees green in every direction. He turns back to the ship. There will be no salvaging it, even if he requests a repair and salvage crew to get here as soon as possible. And even if it could be saved, calling a repair crew is no longer an option for him. He has to say goodbye to this loyal vessel for good.
The thick layers of white paint on its body are already being eaten away, flaking and dissolving in erratic plumes. Like snowfall in reverse. They scramble to reach the land of dry air, instinctively knowing the right way to go. Following the direction of their trails, Atom swims to safety.
His helmet breaks the foaming waves and he spins, scanning for the nearest shoreline. A bed of yellow porous rock catches his eye, beckoning to him from under the hard glare of the midday sun, burning directly above.
Shining silver and undamaged is another spaceship, perched on the same stretch of rock.
Another quick glance in every direction determines there is no where else to go, so Atom swims for the shore with one arm, clutching his precious cargo with the other.
Waiting for him on the shore as he approaches is a Unity Keeper. Dressed in a pale blue space suit, Atom recognizes the Keeper as a cadet without needing to see the patch on their shoulder. Patiently, they allow Atom to hoist himself over the steep cliff and onto dry land. But the Cadet makes no move to help.
"Where is it?" A staticky voice transmits from the suited figure. Atom hears it tumble through the speakers beside his ears. Clear, young, and brave. He wonders if this is the pilot who collided with his own, now sunken, ship.
Over a pale blue shoulder his eyes catch on the undamaged ship sitting idle and ready for flying and dismisses that theory. The one who crashed into him would not likely be alive. This Cadet was the dead one's squad-mate, and friend. Which made him Atom's enemy.
Catching his breath and keeping his eyes fixed on The Enemy, Atom swings his cargo onto his back and eases into a defensive stance. The movement renews the throbbing in his head and reminds him of the awkward dead-weight that is his entire right leg. He recognizes these weaknesses as fact, and clears his mind until all that remains is determination, sharpened into a cold single-pointed dagger.
The Enemy takes half a step closer. A cautious child. The reflective surface of his curved visor shows Atom only himself. A poised predator.
"The device, where is it?" Asks The Enemy.
"The location of the device is classified information." Says Atom.
Strapped to Atom’s thigh is a wide, straight knife, blessed with a blade the length of his hand and sharp enough to penetrate even what the most acidic substance could not. Taking the handle in one fist, Atom pulls it free. The motion is familiar and quick, and laced with unmistakable intent.
The Enemy jerks into movement. Atom, not trusting his right leg to move as quickly as he needs it to, meets the tackle head-on.
His body hits the ground hard, and they roll. The dizziness from the crash, coupled with an unresponsive leg, makes it a challenge to gain the upper hand. Several times he attempts to stab The Enemy but each dive of the blade misses by a hair-length.
Once, The Enemy nearly wriggles out from under him. Dropping the knife, Atom uses all four limbs to regain control while The Enemy scrabbles at Atom's backpack, trying to detach the straps and free its cargo. But the straps are still wet from Atom's unfortunate—or fortunate—landing, and do not cooperate.
Tiring of this slippery wrestling, Atom grips The Enemy's helmet with both hands and slams it against the ground. Each hit against the stoney ground transmits a dull thud. He repeats this motion until the struggle slows and the blue gloves on Atom's backpack slacken their grip. Seizing this opportunity, Atom unclasps The Enemy's helmet and pries it open an inch. Standing halfway, Atom grabs The Enemy under his arms and hoists him the short distance to the edge of the pool.
Within seconds of submersion the acidic water eats away at the man's flesh. Shock and pain reawaken his primal instinct to survive and he fights, managing to at last push Atom off of him. Free now, he resurfaces and Atom sees his face. Red and bubbling and sagging with dying flesh. Eyes wild and lidless he lunges at Atom but misses, blind. Now desperate he unhooks his knife and stabs aimlessly in Atom's direction. His heavy breathing is wet and hoarse.
Unable to scramble away, Atom tries to kick the blinded man back into the water but The Enemy latches onto his leg and sinks his blade deep into the flesh of Atom's thigh. Briefly their bodies become joined as one entity at that single point of contact.
Atom rolls their bodies as one unit over the edge of rock and into the water. Wrapping both arms and legs around the The Enemy he waits until the thrashing stops, listening to the muffled sounds of agonized drowning until that too, is eaten, and silence resumes.
Letting go of the dead weight, Atom swims back to the surface and clumsily climbs out, trying not to jolt the hilt of the knife wedged into his leg.
Scanning the pale green skies for enemy backup he sets off limping toward the abandoned ship only meters away. Once there, he hauls himself up the ladder and drags down the airlock hatch, locking it into place. Leg throbbing, Atom staggers toward the cockpit.
The cadet, in his hurry to subdue Atom, hadn't removed his credentials from the control panel before disembarking. His name, Yosef Radix, sits in pretty black letters on a crisp white card that sticks out of a port in the center of the panel. Dimly, the engine hums, whispering to Atom its eagerness to take off again at a moment's notice—at Yosef's command.
Atom stares at the encouraging green display lights as he yanks on a harness of safety straps and merges with the pilot seat.
Within seconds he detaches from the ground and dives into the stars. As soon as orbit has been broken he hastily sets a course for the Novayu System. Stars remain stuck to his eyes as he unbuckles from the seat and swims through zero gravity to the back of the small ship.
White light swallows him whole in the infirmary. His white gloves paw at the latches of his white space suit until he emerges half-free, sweaty and colorless. His bulky pants remain in place, pierced to his body by Yosef's knife. White knuckled hands wrap around the hilt and after a long inhale Atom pulls it free.
His blood drips out of his body in large red spheres, floating and shimmering in the hard fluorescent light. Once the bleeding has been staunched, and the wound has been disinfected and stitched, Atom takes off the rest of his suit. He wraps a white bandage around his thigh and leaves the infirmary. He locks the door behind him and activates the cycling program, to remove his blood particles from the air.
Beside the infirmary is the main supply closet. In here, Atom docks his space suit and dresses in a clean uniform. A white jumpsuit with a thin rainbow stripe down the middle of his chest. A standard Unity Keeper uniform. His discarded clothes are identical to it.
Only bloodier.
To his right his backpack hangs in the air. Atom pulls it towards him and unseals it. Swiping a hand along its insides, he checks for water damage. His hand comes away completely dry. But just to be safe he digs out the Device to examine it in the light. Popping open the safety container, he slides the Device onto his palm and turns it over. A green light blinks solemnly on its front face, unharmed.
And it would have to remain that way for the remainder of this journey. For the Device is humanity's last hope. The catalyst that will bring an end to the war on Earth.
Five hundred years now has the planet been soaked in the blood of humanity. With only 40 million people left, and no end in sight for the ongoing battles that have wreaked irreparable damage to the planet's ecosystem, life is rapidly on the decline. And Atom alone holds the key that will put an end to all warfare. With this Device he will set into motion the first step to salvation. To the first day of peace in half a millennium.
All he has to do is deliver this Device to the center of the galaxy.
Which is easy enough, in theory. His only obstacle will be people like Yosef. Those who see his desertion from the Unity Keepers as a crime punishable by death.
Or those who know of his Device, and fear it.
But intent doesn’t matter at the end of the day. All who raise a sword against Atom will be slain. No one and nothing will stop him. For if he fails, humanity will continue barreling down this path to oblivion until not a single trace of it remains. It will be as if we never existed in the first place.
The perfect collapse of an entire species. Without even an echo to remember us by.
Slipping the device back into the safety of the backpack, Atom stores it with the spare spacesuits and makes his way back to the front of the ship. His leg throbs and demands attention, but until he moves further away from the crash site and into relative safety he can't risk taking a painkiller and feeling drowsy. He has to stay alert. More enemies will come. This he is sure of.
It is the job of every Unity Keeper to take down criminals. Having worked among them for most of his life, Atom knows this well. And now he has become the criminal, a runaway with a mysterious device which holds dangerous potential.
His best bet right now will be to lay low for a while. Find a slow-rotating body of mass and land on its dark side. There he’ll be able to catch some rest, and plot out his best options for replenishing the supplies he lost in the crash. He hadn't expected to lose his ship so soon in the mission, but it isn’t the end of the world. Not yet, at least. That, Atom would make sure of.
-
LOCATED ON the surface of moon N67-I in Star System Novayu is an abandoned research facility known as Base Violet.
Back when it was in use, it had a reputation for being the most advanced bio-engineering and weapon development center in the universe. Weapons made within the walls of Base Violet were much easier to keep a secret as most people didn't even know the base existed. And even if you happened to be a trouble-making civilian—or an undercover spy—with an illegal space faring vehicle at your disposal, it was much harder to go snooping around in space if you didn't know exactly what you were looking for and where exactly you would find it.
Knowledge of Base Violet’s existence only came into public light after its sudden and graphic demise over a century ago.
Pressure from Earth to develop a new bioweapon that would counteract the heavy cocktail of vaccines that had become so popular among civilians had put a strain on the entire crew of researchers. It was simple exhaustion from sleep deprivation that led to the accident which allowed the escape of this new, potent, and unstable airborne bioweapon. Within an hour of outbreak the entire station populace had perished.
As soon as Earth noticed a halt in all communications from Base Violet, an investigation team was sent to check on them. When they too succumbed to the deadly bacteria, the base was deemed too dangerous to return to.
For the past 140 years it has sat empty and unused. Even now it is unknown if the bacteria sits dormant in Violet’s silent corridors, waiting to cease any life that dares to enter, or if its unstable nature caused it to weaken over time. Either way, as long as Atom remains sealed in his space suit, he runs no risk of infection, and can freely scavenge the Base for whatever he can find.
From the main airlock of his ship Atom climbs down into a nearly empty hanger bay. A few old-model cargo ships occupy the corners, greeting him. Large metal ghosts that will likely never be brought to life again.
Dim emergency lights fed by a solar powered generator color the dusty air a hot orange.
The nearest door from the bay to the interior is unlocked, and swings open with a quiet click. Before him is a dark featureless hallway, stretching out in a long wide line.
He starts walking, hand on the flashlight hanging from his belt, but he doesn't turn it on yet. Embedded in the floor are two rows of the same orange lights, softly easing the total darkness of this cold mausoleum.
Dust rises under his boots as he advances down the hall. Every now and then a dark blue door breaks the monotony of the colorless walls. The door labels are faded, but still legible. The first endless hallway is lined with research labs and containment rooms. Atom opens none of them and keeps moving.
At the end of the hall is a junction. To his left and right are more hallways, and directly in front is a descending staircase, submerged in shadow.
Curiosity moves his feet forward and down the steps and deeper into the depths. The next floor leads to another hallway, though there appear to be more doors here, and a thick stripe of dark paint runs along the top of the walls, its color indistinguishable in the orange light.
The first door from the stairs is slightly ajar. Atom walks towards it. The label reads SL 001 - Break Room. The opening is only as wide the width of one palm.
Atom doesn't need to open it any further to see what the room contains. Through that small gap Atom sees a detailed display of decay.
The harrowing remains of a bioweapon unleashed. Organic matter. Bodies, splattered. Dried viscera. People who used to be bodies, left here to rot beyond recognition or burial. Unable to decompose in this stale environment.
Atom moves on.
A few doors down he finds a large cafeteria. And in the back of the kitchen is a massive food storage. Stocked with non-perishables that will serve him well on his long journey. Atom begins pulling down crates of dried rations and piles them onto a cart. Between one of the aisles he finds another body, slumped against a row of breakfast rations. From gashes all along his body ooze rivulets of blood and organs frozen in time. Stepping over him, Atom grabs one last handful of packaged dinner varieties and leaves.
Wheeling his cart back through the cafeteria, Atom examines the shadowy array of bodies here more closely. Most of them are scientists, dressed in stiff white coats and high boots.
But at one table is a group of security guards, dressed in heavy dark colors from head to toe. And across their backs are strangely shaped devices.
It takes a minute for Atom to realize what they must be. Weapons, of some sort. But unfamiliar to Atom in their function. Base Violet is an old facility, built before the last great information wipeout. It’s entirely possible that these are weapons from before the wipeout.
Atom considers taking one. But they appear unwieldy, and unsuited for close-range combat. He's better off sticking to what he knows, and excels at.
Back in the hallway Atom leaves the cart of food by the door and advances further into the facility. He'll gather it on the way back. But first, he needs to find a working long-range communication terminal.
Accompanied only by the sound of his boots on the cold concrete floor, Atom allows his mind to drift, to fixate on composing the message he’ll send if a terminal can be found.
This momentary slip in awareness almost causes him to miss it.
There, in the shadows at the far end of the hallway is a dark shape. Stiff and unmoving. Illuminated only from below by the orange emergency lights. Bulky white boots stand still in the midst of their gentle glow.
Atom's hand is at his hip, grasping the hilt of his long silver sword when the emergency lights go out. Twisting the sword free he steps to the side, putting his back to the wall and willing his eyes to adjust. But there is no light to adjust to, absolutely none, and as soon as his free hand grips the flashlight on his belt the light returns. A wave of orange slides across the floor and when it hits the end of the hall the figure is gone.
Atom pursues anyway. Sword in hand, Atom ducks into a few passing rooms with open doors. But his flashlight lands only on more decay. No movement. No life. All as it should be.
For ten minutes he searches. At last he comes across the Long Range Communication Center and decides to give up the search, chalking it up as a trick of the mind. It’s easy to tell himself that, considering his surroundings, but he keeps his sword at the ready just in case.
Inside the LRCC is a darkness heavier than any other part of the facility. Its ceiling is likely higher than any other room he's been in so far. A dark mass high from the reaches of the emergency lights, hanging over his head like a reminder for why he has come here in the first place.
Sliding the door shut behind him, he walks to the nearest terminal and crouches at its base. The protective panel on its side pops open easily enough. Sliding his backpack to the floor, Atom gets to work. He unhooks the tower’s useless power cords and attaches a fresh external battery he had brought with him. Above his head, a blue light embedded above the circuits comes to life. Retrieving a data stick from his backpack Atom slides it into an empty slot in the tower before standing up.
An outdated company login screen greets him on the monitor. Atom rests his hands on the keyboard and waits for his data stick to override the security authentication, and then proceeds to open a secure direct communication channel to Earth. From memory he enters the twelve digit code for one man in particular.
A simple black window awaits his next input. He types a brief message and erases it. He does this again, and again, and again. His mind spins with all the questions he wants to ask. But it isn't wise for him to wait here until a trickle of a response manages to come through, or to put his trust in the security of these ancient machines. Exhaling, Atom shakes his head and writes only this;
"I survived the first ambush. I expect there will be more. My heart has not wavered. I will see this through to the end."
The message sends almost instantly. It'll take a few minutes to reach Earth, these machines are too old for instant communication, but the course is final. His words will hit their target unobstructed.
After powering down the machine Atom crouches to toss his data stick and battery back into his pack. On the desk beside the monitor he notices a slim black work log, filled with charts of neat handwriting. Atom takes this too. A dreadfully long flight awaits him, the longest flight he will ever have in his life. And all the books he had brought to kill time on this journey had sank along with his ship.
It'll be good to have something to do to pass the long stretches of time, even if his only option is a corporate work log.
Retracing his steps to the cafeteria, Atom keeps an eye out for movement, for any sign of the thing he saw earlier, but the figure doesn't show itself again. Atom reunites with his food supplies and wheels the cart all the way back to the hangar, where he stocks his ship with supplies that would only go to waste if they remained in this facility any longer. It takes an hour to load up on batteries, fuel, and extra clothes.
Made to sustain a maximum of three Unity Keepers, the ship Atom claimed from Yosef is among one of the smallest deep space crafts available. Despite that, it still has enough room to store enough fuel for long distance travel, and the lack of luxury room allows it to take the shape of a fast, agile vessel. Overall, not the worst ship to have for this journey.
Though he hadn't expected to lose his first ship so soon in the mission, he'll have to be more careful to not lose this one. He won't get so lucky next time.
Once he's back in the comfort of space, Atom only spends enough time in the pilot seat to set his trajectory in the right direction. Then he unbuckles and floats to the sleeping compartments, risking half a painkiller on his tongue before drifting off.
-
SIRENS SHAKE him awake mere hours later.
Proximity alert. A clean robotic voice gives a more detailed statement of the emergency over the ship's intercom: "A nearby ship has just breached the radar."
Sleep still clouds his mind as Atom registers this. Blinking heavily he drags a hand down a stubbled cheek, and across a close shaven head. Scarred fingers graze against rough skin.
The bed straps snake away from his body as he unbuckles and kicks out of bed, and bolts toward the equipment room. Atom blinks again with his hand on the nearest spacesuit.
Four pristine space suits greet him in an array of white. All clean and brand new. Atom remembers taking three new undamaged suits from Base Violet as spares, and packing his torn suit into a storage bin for later repair. There should be only three suits in front of him now. He's sure of it.
Unless his tired mind is remembering incorrectly. But no, a quick glance indicates that none of these suits have a tear in the left leg where Yosef stabbed him.
The intercom crackles back to life, jolting Atom into motion.
"Incoming wide range broadcast," Says the soothing computer generated voice. Atom pulls the nearest suit free and begins encasing himself in the heavy duty material.
"Playing broadcast:" The computer assistant is replaced by a clear, deep voice, slightly accented. Atom doesn't recognize it. "This is Keeper Maverick Duval of Unit 970. Unit 033, can you hear me? This is a peaceful docking request. We have reason to believe your unit has been compromised. You will not be harmed if you allow us to board and investigate. You will not be harmed if you comply. This is Keeper Maverick Duval..."
The message repeats three more times by the time Atom finishes suiting up and cuts through to the cockpit. Fingers flying across the keyboard he copies the broadcast address and sends out his own direct communication request to the incoming Keeper ship.
It connects with a green light on the console and a dull audible click.
Atom presses a finger on the button to transmit his voice. He leans toward the mic on the console and everything is quiet for a moment.
"I will comply." He says.
"Very good. State your name and ID please."
Atom glances at the Identification card still sitting in the console.
"Keeper Yosef Radix, 11304."
"Radix...? You were presumed missing after the initial takedown order of Atom Belov near System M-80. What happened? Why have you not reported to your superior?"
Atom thinks fast. Thinks of the pale blue Cadet who hadn't draw his knife until it was too late. Who left his ship running idle and ready to be taken by any who entered it. Who never once drew his sword.
Atom thinks of his young, falsely brave voice.
"I don't know... I just woke up." Atom pauses. "My head hurts. I don't know what's going on, Sir."
"Is there anyone else on board with you?"
The less on edge they are, the easier it'll be for Atom to take them down. "Um... not that I know of."
Silence on the other end. Atom can do nothing but wait, so he watches the radar on the console displaying the position of the other ship. Maverick's ship. By now it has matched his speed, but comes no closer.
At last, Maverick's voice fills the space around him once more. "Keeper Radix, are you able to initiate mobile docking protocol?"
"Yes, I think so."
"Good. I'll have more questions for you once I'm on board. And Yosef, do be careful. I can walk you through the procedure if needed."
"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir."
The connection mutes but remains on standby. Atom initiates docking protocol with a few quick keystrokes. It’s a simple procedure that he has done hundreds of times. The computer takes care of most of the work. Once the procedure has begun, Atom pushes away from the console and aims for the main airlock, freeing his knife on the way. He swings up, above the door to the airlock, and hooks his feet into a latch on the ship's "ceiling", and crouches to wait. This won't be easy. Combat in zero-G is awkward and unpredictable, even in the best of circumstances. And despite Atom's words, Maverick would be smart to expect trouble. A Keeper doesn't survive long without staying vigilant.
It takes eight agonizing minutes of waiting until a thud jostles the ship. Atom hears the gears sliding and interlocking until silence indicates the successful joining of this ship to another.
Then the lights around the airlock switch from red to white and after another long minute, it hisses open. And a figure floats through the doorway, slowly, head whipping around to check both hallways, copper blond hair moving this way and that. He isn't wearing a helmet.
Atom doesn't pause to question his reasons for that. He dives down and plunges his knife into the man. But he doesn't get enough momentum for a killing stab. It shallowly digs into Maverick's shoulder before he twists and curls his legs up to kick Atom away. He lands one heavy punch against Atom's face and retreats out of range. Atom tries to grab at Maverick but his gloves slip on the smooth material of his Keeper uniform.
He hits the wall and bounces right off. Maverick takes advantage of his clumsy trajectory to calmly maneuver behind Atom and grab his arms, twisting them painfully. It is now that Atom realizes that Maverick is twice his size, in overall mass.
He struggles anyway. Maverick brings his legs up and locks them around Atom's thighs to keep him from breaking free.
"State your name." Says Maverick.
"Yosef Radix."
"Try again."
"I don't think that would be a very good idea."
"Atta boy, now you're thinking straight. Where was that foresight thirty seconds ago?"
Atom hears the click of handcuffs before he feels them clamp around his wrists. He stops struggling and Maverick lets go of him. Bound and useless, Atom floats in the air like a dead fish while Maverick unhooks a radio from his belt and raises it to his mouth.
"Come aboard, Angel."
"On my way." Comes a gruff reply. Seconds later an even taller man swims through the airlock, gleaming white sword and long black hair streaming behind him. Atom cranes his neck for a better look as Angel appraises him the same way. Dark facial hair covers the lower part of his face, but even that can't hide the scars slashing his jaw into brutal divisions.
"Your orders, Captain?"
"Take him to the infirmary. I would like to question him while I take care of this." He says, motioning to the knife still lodged in his shoulder.
Angel grabs hold of the straps on Atom's suit and follows the command, dragging him down the narrow hallway. Once in the infirmary, Angel ties him down to the operation bed and unlatches his helmet, yanking it free without grace. Atom meets his green eyes without guilt.
"Atom Belov." Says Angel. "It's him, right?"
Maverick, the older man with golden hair and golden eyes leans over Atom. His mouth, when he smiles, reveals two golden canines.
"Shaven head, cold eyes, dumb enough to attack a superior officer, and found piloting a ship that belonged to the last man known to have come into contact with Atom? I'd say it checks out."
"Do you need help with that, Sir?" Angel asks as Maverick grabs the hilt of Atom's knife and prepares to pull.
"Just have the bandage ready, please." Maverick's face barely twitches when the knife comes out, though he takes a moment to breathe and staunch the bleeding before those honey eyes stick to Atom again. With idle hands he cleans his blood from Atom's knife while Angel ties the bandage and cuts off the excess. The furling white ribbon disappears out of view and Maverick tucks the knife into his belt. Thus begins the interrogation.
"Do you have a family, Atom?"
"No."
"Of course. Neither do we. Most of us in this line of work don't." He says, and waits for Atom to take the bait.
"Then why did you ask?"
"Because I want to get to know you."
"So that you'll seem like a friend? So that I'll feel more comfortable giving you the information you really want? I know how this works."
Maverick ignores this and cuts straight to the chase, "They say you are in possession of a very dangerous device. Can you tell me what it is?"
"No."
Across the room, Angel casually appraises the blade of his sword. Maverick pulls himself up to the bed and leans over Atom, blocking his view of the other Keeper.
"Why are you here, Atom Belov? Why sign up to be a Unity Keeper, remain at the top of your class throughout your entire training period, and act as a flawless vessel of Unity for over a decade, only to throw it all away in this shameful act of defiance?"
"You've done your homework."
"I was also at the top of my class."
"Are we bonding? Maybe we'll become friends after all."
"Where is the device?"
"I don't have it."
"Then where is it?"
Atom observes Maverick's unnatural yellow eyes, his freckles, his thick copper hair that swoops perfectly away from his face, and his skin that somehow glows from under combat-battered features, and sighs through his nose.
"It's on Novo."
"Is that true?"
Atom only blinks at him.
"Why is it all the way over there?"
"It was left there, by a colleague. I'm supposed to pick it up and bring it to the next destination, for the next guy. And so on and so forth. Until it reaches its destination."
"Seems like a slow way of doing things."
"It's cautionary. We didn't want to get caught."
Maverick's eyes flick down to the straps binding Atom to the operation table. "How many of you are there?" He asks. "How many traitors to humanity are you working with?"
Atom flashes his teeth and says nothing.
"Why did you tell me where the device is, Atom?"
"I didn't. I gave you a direction, but only I know its exact location. You need the device so that you can destroy it. Which means you can't kill me. So you're going to take me there, and then I'm going to kill you."
"Quite an elaborate plan. You're so sure it'll work?"
Atom shrugs. "Are you sure it won't?"
"Am I sure that I could take you in another fight? From where I am, the odds look pretty good."
"Then you won't mind taking me to where I need to go."
Maverick leans back and strokes his square jaw with a calloused thumb. Unsmiling. Atom meets his stare with an empty gaze of his own. A stone for a stone.
"Who am I to deny a dying man his last wish?"
They leave him there, strapped to the table, while they go search the whole ship. Atom closes his eyes, figuring this is as good a time as any to get some shut eye.
The device isn't on Novo, but they won't be finding it on this ship either, not in a million years. In his backpack sits the failsafe activation drive, disguised as a regular battery pack. There are hundreds of battery packs on this ship alone. But the device itself, the mega atomic bomb, lies safely in a hollowed out chamber within his mechanical right leg. Designed to go off in the presence of extremely high temperatures, a loss of the failsafe would not hinder detonation when the time came to complete his mission.
The leg isn't the most comfortable hunk of metal to drag around, especially since he hadn't had enough time to get used to it before embarking on this mission. But in the face of his cause, his mission, this discomfort is merely a minor inconvenience. And as long as he avoids gravity the unruly weight is easier to deal with. Thankfully, gravity is a rarity in space.
That thought brings a calm to Atom's limbs, and he gives himself graciously over to the land of sleep, and dreams of nothing.
His mind is quick to remind him of this fact. But the rest of his body takes its sweet time to react. A danger siren assaults the air around him. He replies with only the sound of labored breathing. Through fluttering eyelids he manages to catch glimpses of his situation.
The source of the running water appears to be the green acid currently spitting through the cracked glass window at the front of his ship. The floor is covered with it, and the rest of the cockpit is rapidly filling with this unknown substance. A layer of yellow-green foam sloshes over the top of his white boots and continues to crawl up his legs as the water level rises with each passing minute. Atom watches it slosh against the control panel. Very quickly the computers inside it are fried beyond repair.
Stars and sparks cascade in ripples across his dry wide eyes. Blinking heavily, Atom scrambles for the backpack secured to the left wall of the hull.
His own safety straps keep him glued to the pilot chair. He slaps at the clasps until he's free and reaches up to tear at the elastic cords containing the backpack. By the time it falls free the acid has reached his waist and the jostling he took in the crash-landing is threatening to pull him back to sleep, sooner rather than later.
Plunging his gloved hand into the glowing green liquid Atom blindly feels for the emergency release lever for the exit hatch. The acid hisses at the intrusion, but it isn't potent enough to penetrate his space suit. The hatch groans in protest, but it opens, and humbly invites the destructive waters to fill the rest of his trashed ship.
Crushing the backpack to his chest, Atom slips through the opening.
He searches for the surface but only sees green in every direction. He turns back to the ship. There will be no salvaging it, even if he requests a repair and salvage crew to get here as soon as possible. And even if it could be saved, calling a repair crew is no longer an option for him. He has to say goodbye to this loyal vessel for good.
The thick layers of white paint on its body are already being eaten away, flaking and dissolving in erratic plumes. Like snowfall in reverse. They scramble to reach the land of dry air, instinctively knowing the right way to go. Following the direction of their trails, Atom swims to safety.
His helmet breaks the foaming waves and he spins, scanning for the nearest shoreline. A bed of yellow porous rock catches his eye, beckoning to him from under the hard glare of the midday sun, burning directly above.
Shining silver and undamaged is another spaceship, perched on the same stretch of rock.
Another quick glance in every direction determines there is no where else to go, so Atom swims for the shore with one arm, clutching his precious cargo with the other.
Waiting for him on the shore as he approaches is a Unity Keeper. Dressed in a pale blue space suit, Atom recognizes the Keeper as a cadet without needing to see the patch on their shoulder. Patiently, they allow Atom to hoist himself over the steep cliff and onto dry land. But the Cadet makes no move to help.
"Where is it?" A staticky voice transmits from the suited figure. Atom hears it tumble through the speakers beside his ears. Clear, young, and brave. He wonders if this is the pilot who collided with his own, now sunken, ship.
Over a pale blue shoulder his eyes catch on the undamaged ship sitting idle and ready for flying and dismisses that theory. The one who crashed into him would not likely be alive. This Cadet was the dead one's squad-mate, and friend. Which made him Atom's enemy.
Catching his breath and keeping his eyes fixed on The Enemy, Atom swings his cargo onto his back and eases into a defensive stance. The movement renews the throbbing in his head and reminds him of the awkward dead-weight that is his entire right leg. He recognizes these weaknesses as fact, and clears his mind until all that remains is determination, sharpened into a cold single-pointed dagger.
The Enemy takes half a step closer. A cautious child. The reflective surface of his curved visor shows Atom only himself. A poised predator.
"The device, where is it?" Asks The Enemy.
"The location of the device is classified information." Says Atom.
Strapped to Atom’s thigh is a wide, straight knife, blessed with a blade the length of his hand and sharp enough to penetrate even what the most acidic substance could not. Taking the handle in one fist, Atom pulls it free. The motion is familiar and quick, and laced with unmistakable intent.
The Enemy jerks into movement. Atom, not trusting his right leg to move as quickly as he needs it to, meets the tackle head-on.
His body hits the ground hard, and they roll. The dizziness from the crash, coupled with an unresponsive leg, makes it a challenge to gain the upper hand. Several times he attempts to stab The Enemy but each dive of the blade misses by a hair-length.
Once, The Enemy nearly wriggles out from under him. Dropping the knife, Atom uses all four limbs to regain control while The Enemy scrabbles at Atom's backpack, trying to detach the straps and free its cargo. But the straps are still wet from Atom's unfortunate—or fortunate—landing, and do not cooperate.
Tiring of this slippery wrestling, Atom grips The Enemy's helmet with both hands and slams it against the ground. Each hit against the stoney ground transmits a dull thud. He repeats this motion until the struggle slows and the blue gloves on Atom's backpack slacken their grip. Seizing this opportunity, Atom unclasps The Enemy's helmet and pries it open an inch. Standing halfway, Atom grabs The Enemy under his arms and hoists him the short distance to the edge of the pool.
Within seconds of submersion the acidic water eats away at the man's flesh. Shock and pain reawaken his primal instinct to survive and he fights, managing to at last push Atom off of him. Free now, he resurfaces and Atom sees his face. Red and bubbling and sagging with dying flesh. Eyes wild and lidless he lunges at Atom but misses, blind. Now desperate he unhooks his knife and stabs aimlessly in Atom's direction. His heavy breathing is wet and hoarse.
Unable to scramble away, Atom tries to kick the blinded man back into the water but The Enemy latches onto his leg and sinks his blade deep into the flesh of Atom's thigh. Briefly their bodies become joined as one entity at that single point of contact.
Atom rolls their bodies as one unit over the edge of rock and into the water. Wrapping both arms and legs around the The Enemy he waits until the thrashing stops, listening to the muffled sounds of agonized drowning until that too, is eaten, and silence resumes.
Letting go of the dead weight, Atom swims back to the surface and clumsily climbs out, trying not to jolt the hilt of the knife wedged into his leg.
Scanning the pale green skies for enemy backup he sets off limping toward the abandoned ship only meters away. Once there, he hauls himself up the ladder and drags down the airlock hatch, locking it into place. Leg throbbing, Atom staggers toward the cockpit.
The cadet, in his hurry to subdue Atom, hadn't removed his credentials from the control panel before disembarking. His name, Yosef Radix, sits in pretty black letters on a crisp white card that sticks out of a port in the center of the panel. Dimly, the engine hums, whispering to Atom its eagerness to take off again at a moment's notice—at Yosef's command.
Atom stares at the encouraging green display lights as he yanks on a harness of safety straps and merges with the pilot seat.
Within seconds he detaches from the ground and dives into the stars. As soon as orbit has been broken he hastily sets a course for the Novayu System. Stars remain stuck to his eyes as he unbuckles from the seat and swims through zero gravity to the back of the small ship.
White light swallows him whole in the infirmary. His white gloves paw at the latches of his white space suit until he emerges half-free, sweaty and colorless. His bulky pants remain in place, pierced to his body by Yosef's knife. White knuckled hands wrap around the hilt and after a long inhale Atom pulls it free.
His blood drips out of his body in large red spheres, floating and shimmering in the hard fluorescent light. Once the bleeding has been staunched, and the wound has been disinfected and stitched, Atom takes off the rest of his suit. He wraps a white bandage around his thigh and leaves the infirmary. He locks the door behind him and activates the cycling program, to remove his blood particles from the air.
Beside the infirmary is the main supply closet. In here, Atom docks his space suit and dresses in a clean uniform. A white jumpsuit with a thin rainbow stripe down the middle of his chest. A standard Unity Keeper uniform. His discarded clothes are identical to it.
Only bloodier.
To his right his backpack hangs in the air. Atom pulls it towards him and unseals it. Swiping a hand along its insides, he checks for water damage. His hand comes away completely dry. But just to be safe he digs out the Device to examine it in the light. Popping open the safety container, he slides the Device onto his palm and turns it over. A green light blinks solemnly on its front face, unharmed.
And it would have to remain that way for the remainder of this journey. For the Device is humanity's last hope. The catalyst that will bring an end to the war on Earth.
Five hundred years now has the planet been soaked in the blood of humanity. With only 40 million people left, and no end in sight for the ongoing battles that have wreaked irreparable damage to the planet's ecosystem, life is rapidly on the decline. And Atom alone holds the key that will put an end to all warfare. With this Device he will set into motion the first step to salvation. To the first day of peace in half a millennium.
All he has to do is deliver this Device to the center of the galaxy.
Which is easy enough, in theory. His only obstacle will be people like Yosef. Those who see his desertion from the Unity Keepers as a crime punishable by death.
Or those who know of his Device, and fear it.
But intent doesn’t matter at the end of the day. All who raise a sword against Atom will be slain. No one and nothing will stop him. For if he fails, humanity will continue barreling down this path to oblivion until not a single trace of it remains. It will be as if we never existed in the first place.
The perfect collapse of an entire species. Without even an echo to remember us by.
Slipping the device back into the safety of the backpack, Atom stores it with the spare spacesuits and makes his way back to the front of the ship. His leg throbs and demands attention, but until he moves further away from the crash site and into relative safety he can't risk taking a painkiller and feeling drowsy. He has to stay alert. More enemies will come. This he is sure of.
It is the job of every Unity Keeper to take down criminals. Having worked among them for most of his life, Atom knows this well. And now he has become the criminal, a runaway with a mysterious device which holds dangerous potential.
His best bet right now will be to lay low for a while. Find a slow-rotating body of mass and land on its dark side. There he’ll be able to catch some rest, and plot out his best options for replenishing the supplies he lost in the crash. He hadn't expected to lose his ship so soon in the mission, but it isn’t the end of the world. Not yet, at least. That, Atom would make sure of.
-
LOCATED ON the surface of moon N67-I in Star System Novayu is an abandoned research facility known as Base Violet.
Back when it was in use, it had a reputation for being the most advanced bio-engineering and weapon development center in the universe. Weapons made within the walls of Base Violet were much easier to keep a secret as most people didn't even know the base existed. And even if you happened to be a trouble-making civilian—or an undercover spy—with an illegal space faring vehicle at your disposal, it was much harder to go snooping around in space if you didn't know exactly what you were looking for and where exactly you would find it.
Knowledge of Base Violet’s existence only came into public light after its sudden and graphic demise over a century ago.
Pressure from Earth to develop a new bioweapon that would counteract the heavy cocktail of vaccines that had become so popular among civilians had put a strain on the entire crew of researchers. It was simple exhaustion from sleep deprivation that led to the accident which allowed the escape of this new, potent, and unstable airborne bioweapon. Within an hour of outbreak the entire station populace had perished.
As soon as Earth noticed a halt in all communications from Base Violet, an investigation team was sent to check on them. When they too succumbed to the deadly bacteria, the base was deemed too dangerous to return to.
For the past 140 years it has sat empty and unused. Even now it is unknown if the bacteria sits dormant in Violet’s silent corridors, waiting to cease any life that dares to enter, or if its unstable nature caused it to weaken over time. Either way, as long as Atom remains sealed in his space suit, he runs no risk of infection, and can freely scavenge the Base for whatever he can find.
From the main airlock of his ship Atom climbs down into a nearly empty hanger bay. A few old-model cargo ships occupy the corners, greeting him. Large metal ghosts that will likely never be brought to life again.
Dim emergency lights fed by a solar powered generator color the dusty air a hot orange.
The nearest door from the bay to the interior is unlocked, and swings open with a quiet click. Before him is a dark featureless hallway, stretching out in a long wide line.
He starts walking, hand on the flashlight hanging from his belt, but he doesn't turn it on yet. Embedded in the floor are two rows of the same orange lights, softly easing the total darkness of this cold mausoleum.
Dust rises under his boots as he advances down the hall. Every now and then a dark blue door breaks the monotony of the colorless walls. The door labels are faded, but still legible. The first endless hallway is lined with research labs and containment rooms. Atom opens none of them and keeps moving.
At the end of the hall is a junction. To his left and right are more hallways, and directly in front is a descending staircase, submerged in shadow.
Curiosity moves his feet forward and down the steps and deeper into the depths. The next floor leads to another hallway, though there appear to be more doors here, and a thick stripe of dark paint runs along the top of the walls, its color indistinguishable in the orange light.
The first door from the stairs is slightly ajar. Atom walks towards it. The label reads SL 001 - Break Room. The opening is only as wide the width of one palm.
Atom doesn't need to open it any further to see what the room contains. Through that small gap Atom sees a detailed display of decay.
The harrowing remains of a bioweapon unleashed. Organic matter. Bodies, splattered. Dried viscera. People who used to be bodies, left here to rot beyond recognition or burial. Unable to decompose in this stale environment.
Atom moves on.
A few doors down he finds a large cafeteria. And in the back of the kitchen is a massive food storage. Stocked with non-perishables that will serve him well on his long journey. Atom begins pulling down crates of dried rations and piles them onto a cart. Between one of the aisles he finds another body, slumped against a row of breakfast rations. From gashes all along his body ooze rivulets of blood and organs frozen in time. Stepping over him, Atom grabs one last handful of packaged dinner varieties and leaves.
Wheeling his cart back through the cafeteria, Atom examines the shadowy array of bodies here more closely. Most of them are scientists, dressed in stiff white coats and high boots.
But at one table is a group of security guards, dressed in heavy dark colors from head to toe. And across their backs are strangely shaped devices.
It takes a minute for Atom to realize what they must be. Weapons, of some sort. But unfamiliar to Atom in their function. Base Violet is an old facility, built before the last great information wipeout. It’s entirely possible that these are weapons from before the wipeout.
Atom considers taking one. But they appear unwieldy, and unsuited for close-range combat. He's better off sticking to what he knows, and excels at.
Back in the hallway Atom leaves the cart of food by the door and advances further into the facility. He'll gather it on the way back. But first, he needs to find a working long-range communication terminal.
Accompanied only by the sound of his boots on the cold concrete floor, Atom allows his mind to drift, to fixate on composing the message he’ll send if a terminal can be found.
This momentary slip in awareness almost causes him to miss it.
There, in the shadows at the far end of the hallway is a dark shape. Stiff and unmoving. Illuminated only from below by the orange emergency lights. Bulky white boots stand still in the midst of their gentle glow.
Atom's hand is at his hip, grasping the hilt of his long silver sword when the emergency lights go out. Twisting the sword free he steps to the side, putting his back to the wall and willing his eyes to adjust. But there is no light to adjust to, absolutely none, and as soon as his free hand grips the flashlight on his belt the light returns. A wave of orange slides across the floor and when it hits the end of the hall the figure is gone.
Atom pursues anyway. Sword in hand, Atom ducks into a few passing rooms with open doors. But his flashlight lands only on more decay. No movement. No life. All as it should be.
For ten minutes he searches. At last he comes across the Long Range Communication Center and decides to give up the search, chalking it up as a trick of the mind. It’s easy to tell himself that, considering his surroundings, but he keeps his sword at the ready just in case.
Inside the LRCC is a darkness heavier than any other part of the facility. Its ceiling is likely higher than any other room he's been in so far. A dark mass high from the reaches of the emergency lights, hanging over his head like a reminder for why he has come here in the first place.
Sliding the door shut behind him, he walks to the nearest terminal and crouches at its base. The protective panel on its side pops open easily enough. Sliding his backpack to the floor, Atom gets to work. He unhooks the tower’s useless power cords and attaches a fresh external battery he had brought with him. Above his head, a blue light embedded above the circuits comes to life. Retrieving a data stick from his backpack Atom slides it into an empty slot in the tower before standing up.
An outdated company login screen greets him on the monitor. Atom rests his hands on the keyboard and waits for his data stick to override the security authentication, and then proceeds to open a secure direct communication channel to Earth. From memory he enters the twelve digit code for one man in particular.
A simple black window awaits his next input. He types a brief message and erases it. He does this again, and again, and again. His mind spins with all the questions he wants to ask. But it isn't wise for him to wait here until a trickle of a response manages to come through, or to put his trust in the security of these ancient machines. Exhaling, Atom shakes his head and writes only this;
"I survived the first ambush. I expect there will be more. My heart has not wavered. I will see this through to the end."
The message sends almost instantly. It'll take a few minutes to reach Earth, these machines are too old for instant communication, but the course is final. His words will hit their target unobstructed.
After powering down the machine Atom crouches to toss his data stick and battery back into his pack. On the desk beside the monitor he notices a slim black work log, filled with charts of neat handwriting. Atom takes this too. A dreadfully long flight awaits him, the longest flight he will ever have in his life. And all the books he had brought to kill time on this journey had sank along with his ship.
It'll be good to have something to do to pass the long stretches of time, even if his only option is a corporate work log.
Retracing his steps to the cafeteria, Atom keeps an eye out for movement, for any sign of the thing he saw earlier, but the figure doesn't show itself again. Atom reunites with his food supplies and wheels the cart all the way back to the hangar, where he stocks his ship with supplies that would only go to waste if they remained in this facility any longer. It takes an hour to load up on batteries, fuel, and extra clothes.
Made to sustain a maximum of three Unity Keepers, the ship Atom claimed from Yosef is among one of the smallest deep space crafts available. Despite that, it still has enough room to store enough fuel for long distance travel, and the lack of luxury room allows it to take the shape of a fast, agile vessel. Overall, not the worst ship to have for this journey.
Though he hadn't expected to lose his first ship so soon in the mission, he'll have to be more careful to not lose this one. He won't get so lucky next time.
Once he's back in the comfort of space, Atom only spends enough time in the pilot seat to set his trajectory in the right direction. Then he unbuckles and floats to the sleeping compartments, risking half a painkiller on his tongue before drifting off.
-
SIRENS SHAKE him awake mere hours later.
Proximity alert. A clean robotic voice gives a more detailed statement of the emergency over the ship's intercom: "A nearby ship has just breached the radar."
Sleep still clouds his mind as Atom registers this. Blinking heavily he drags a hand down a stubbled cheek, and across a close shaven head. Scarred fingers graze against rough skin.
The bed straps snake away from his body as he unbuckles and kicks out of bed, and bolts toward the equipment room. Atom blinks again with his hand on the nearest spacesuit.
Four pristine space suits greet him in an array of white. All clean and brand new. Atom remembers taking three new undamaged suits from Base Violet as spares, and packing his torn suit into a storage bin for later repair. There should be only three suits in front of him now. He's sure of it.
Unless his tired mind is remembering incorrectly. But no, a quick glance indicates that none of these suits have a tear in the left leg where Yosef stabbed him.
The intercom crackles back to life, jolting Atom into motion.
"Incoming wide range broadcast," Says the soothing computer generated voice. Atom pulls the nearest suit free and begins encasing himself in the heavy duty material.
"Playing broadcast:" The computer assistant is replaced by a clear, deep voice, slightly accented. Atom doesn't recognize it. "This is Keeper Maverick Duval of Unit 970. Unit 033, can you hear me? This is a peaceful docking request. We have reason to believe your unit has been compromised. You will not be harmed if you allow us to board and investigate. You will not be harmed if you comply. This is Keeper Maverick Duval..."
The message repeats three more times by the time Atom finishes suiting up and cuts through to the cockpit. Fingers flying across the keyboard he copies the broadcast address and sends out his own direct communication request to the incoming Keeper ship.
It connects with a green light on the console and a dull audible click.
Atom presses a finger on the button to transmit his voice. He leans toward the mic on the console and everything is quiet for a moment.
"I will comply." He says.
"Very good. State your name and ID please."
Atom glances at the Identification card still sitting in the console.
"Keeper Yosef Radix, 11304."
"Radix...? You were presumed missing after the initial takedown order of Atom Belov near System M-80. What happened? Why have you not reported to your superior?"
Atom thinks fast. Thinks of the pale blue Cadet who hadn't draw his knife until it was too late. Who left his ship running idle and ready to be taken by any who entered it. Who never once drew his sword.
Atom thinks of his young, falsely brave voice.
"I don't know... I just woke up." Atom pauses. "My head hurts. I don't know what's going on, Sir."
"Is there anyone else on board with you?"
The less on edge they are, the easier it'll be for Atom to take them down. "Um... not that I know of."
Silence on the other end. Atom can do nothing but wait, so he watches the radar on the console displaying the position of the other ship. Maverick's ship. By now it has matched his speed, but comes no closer.
At last, Maverick's voice fills the space around him once more. "Keeper Radix, are you able to initiate mobile docking protocol?"
"Yes, I think so."
"Good. I'll have more questions for you once I'm on board. And Yosef, do be careful. I can walk you through the procedure if needed."
"Yes, Sir. Thank you, Sir."
The connection mutes but remains on standby. Atom initiates docking protocol with a few quick keystrokes. It’s a simple procedure that he has done hundreds of times. The computer takes care of most of the work. Once the procedure has begun, Atom pushes away from the console and aims for the main airlock, freeing his knife on the way. He swings up, above the door to the airlock, and hooks his feet into a latch on the ship's "ceiling", and crouches to wait. This won't be easy. Combat in zero-G is awkward and unpredictable, even in the best of circumstances. And despite Atom's words, Maverick would be smart to expect trouble. A Keeper doesn't survive long without staying vigilant.
It takes eight agonizing minutes of waiting until a thud jostles the ship. Atom hears the gears sliding and interlocking until silence indicates the successful joining of this ship to another.
Then the lights around the airlock switch from red to white and after another long minute, it hisses open. And a figure floats through the doorway, slowly, head whipping around to check both hallways, copper blond hair moving this way and that. He isn't wearing a helmet.
Atom doesn't pause to question his reasons for that. He dives down and plunges his knife into the man. But he doesn't get enough momentum for a killing stab. It shallowly digs into Maverick's shoulder before he twists and curls his legs up to kick Atom away. He lands one heavy punch against Atom's face and retreats out of range. Atom tries to grab at Maverick but his gloves slip on the smooth material of his Keeper uniform.
He hits the wall and bounces right off. Maverick takes advantage of his clumsy trajectory to calmly maneuver behind Atom and grab his arms, twisting them painfully. It is now that Atom realizes that Maverick is twice his size, in overall mass.
He struggles anyway. Maverick brings his legs up and locks them around Atom's thighs to keep him from breaking free.
"State your name." Says Maverick.
"Yosef Radix."
"Try again."
"I don't think that would be a very good idea."
"Atta boy, now you're thinking straight. Where was that foresight thirty seconds ago?"
Atom hears the click of handcuffs before he feels them clamp around his wrists. He stops struggling and Maverick lets go of him. Bound and useless, Atom floats in the air like a dead fish while Maverick unhooks a radio from his belt and raises it to his mouth.
"Come aboard, Angel."
"On my way." Comes a gruff reply. Seconds later an even taller man swims through the airlock, gleaming white sword and long black hair streaming behind him. Atom cranes his neck for a better look as Angel appraises him the same way. Dark facial hair covers the lower part of his face, but even that can't hide the scars slashing his jaw into brutal divisions.
"Your orders, Captain?"
"Take him to the infirmary. I would like to question him while I take care of this." He says, motioning to the knife still lodged in his shoulder.
Angel grabs hold of the straps on Atom's suit and follows the command, dragging him down the narrow hallway. Once in the infirmary, Angel ties him down to the operation bed and unlatches his helmet, yanking it free without grace. Atom meets his green eyes without guilt.
"Atom Belov." Says Angel. "It's him, right?"
Maverick, the older man with golden hair and golden eyes leans over Atom. His mouth, when he smiles, reveals two golden canines.
"Shaven head, cold eyes, dumb enough to attack a superior officer, and found piloting a ship that belonged to the last man known to have come into contact with Atom? I'd say it checks out."
"Do you need help with that, Sir?" Angel asks as Maverick grabs the hilt of Atom's knife and prepares to pull.
"Just have the bandage ready, please." Maverick's face barely twitches when the knife comes out, though he takes a moment to breathe and staunch the bleeding before those honey eyes stick to Atom again. With idle hands he cleans his blood from Atom's knife while Angel ties the bandage and cuts off the excess. The furling white ribbon disappears out of view and Maverick tucks the knife into his belt. Thus begins the interrogation.
"Do you have a family, Atom?"
"No."
"Of course. Neither do we. Most of us in this line of work don't." He says, and waits for Atom to take the bait.
"Then why did you ask?"
"Because I want to get to know you."
"So that you'll seem like a friend? So that I'll feel more comfortable giving you the information you really want? I know how this works."
Maverick ignores this and cuts straight to the chase, "They say you are in possession of a very dangerous device. Can you tell me what it is?"
"No."
Across the room, Angel casually appraises the blade of his sword. Maverick pulls himself up to the bed and leans over Atom, blocking his view of the other Keeper.
"Why are you here, Atom Belov? Why sign up to be a Unity Keeper, remain at the top of your class throughout your entire training period, and act as a flawless vessel of Unity for over a decade, only to throw it all away in this shameful act of defiance?"
"You've done your homework."
"I was also at the top of my class."
"Are we bonding? Maybe we'll become friends after all."
"Where is the device?"
"I don't have it."
"Then where is it?"
Atom observes Maverick's unnatural yellow eyes, his freckles, his thick copper hair that swoops perfectly away from his face, and his skin that somehow glows from under combat-battered features, and sighs through his nose.
"It's on Novo."
"Is that true?"
Atom only blinks at him.
"Why is it all the way over there?"
"It was left there, by a colleague. I'm supposed to pick it up and bring it to the next destination, for the next guy. And so on and so forth. Until it reaches its destination."
"Seems like a slow way of doing things."
"It's cautionary. We didn't want to get caught."
Maverick's eyes flick down to the straps binding Atom to the operation table. "How many of you are there?" He asks. "How many traitors to humanity are you working with?"
Atom flashes his teeth and says nothing.
"Why did you tell me where the device is, Atom?"
"I didn't. I gave you a direction, but only I know its exact location. You need the device so that you can destroy it. Which means you can't kill me. So you're going to take me there, and then I'm going to kill you."
"Quite an elaborate plan. You're so sure it'll work?"
Atom shrugs. "Are you sure it won't?"
"Am I sure that I could take you in another fight? From where I am, the odds look pretty good."
"Then you won't mind taking me to where I need to go."
Maverick leans back and strokes his square jaw with a calloused thumb. Unsmiling. Atom meets his stare with an empty gaze of his own. A stone for a stone.
"Who am I to deny a dying man his last wish?"
They leave him there, strapped to the table, while they go search the whole ship. Atom closes his eyes, figuring this is as good a time as any to get some shut eye.
The device isn't on Novo, but they won't be finding it on this ship either, not in a million years. In his backpack sits the failsafe activation drive, disguised as a regular battery pack. There are hundreds of battery packs on this ship alone. But the device itself, the mega atomic bomb, lies safely in a hollowed out chamber within his mechanical right leg. Designed to go off in the presence of extremely high temperatures, a loss of the failsafe would not hinder detonation when the time came to complete his mission.
The leg isn't the most comfortable hunk of metal to drag around, especially since he hadn't had enough time to get used to it before embarking on this mission. But in the face of his cause, his mission, this discomfort is merely a minor inconvenience. And as long as he avoids gravity the unruly weight is easier to deal with. Thankfully, gravity is a rarity in space.
That thought brings a calm to Atom's limbs, and he gives himself graciously over to the land of sleep, and dreams of nothing.