Re-Coil - J.T. Nicholas Page 0,115

than any other part of the ship, the environmental compartment felt… empty. Deserted. Abandoned. It was familiar territory to me.

Until the infected stepped from the shadows of one of the air exchangers.

A half-dozen weapons were raised as one. I couldn’t speak for the security team, but I damn near pulled the trigger on sheer reflex before I noticed that the infected had both arms raised above its head, a gesture of parley.

“What the fuck?” Shay said over the comm. The mutters of the security personnel echoed her words as they fanned out, weapons sweeping all corners of the room, looking for more of the Bliss-infected.

Then a voice blossomed over our comm—not the voice of any member of the team. It wasn’t mechanical, exactly. More… unidentifiable. I couldn’t tell if the speaker was male or female, young or old, big or small. The infected before us was female—the skin-tight vacc suit made that clear—but the voice… It may not have been mechanical, but there was nothing in that voice that sounded human, either. It was cold. Empty. Devoid of both emotion and inflection.

“Please lower your weapons,” the voice said. “The damage you have inflicted has already caused a twelve percent degradation in performance. Alternative methods of resolution shall now be explored.”

“Is that so?” Korben said. “And why should we explore these alternative methods?” he asked, a note of amusement in his voice. I couldn’t be sure if it was genuine or forced—either way, given the circumstances, it was impressive.

Sarah? I asked.

Yes, Carter?

Given the parameters of the SAD nanites and the equipment present, run an analysis of how long it’s going to take to introduce the nanites and then distribute them throughout the ship.

Understood, Carter. There was a pause. The probability that the entity known as Bliss has locked out all controls to the environmental systems approaches unity.

Yeah, I know, I replied. We’ll just have to trust Shay and Bit to work that problem.

I turned my attention back to the infected. “My effectiveness has been reduced by twelve percent,” the voice said. “But by my calculations, yours has been reduced by sixty-eight percent. At the current rate of attrition, your effectiveness will fall to zero before mine drops below seventy-seven percent. Logic would dictate that you hear my proposal.”

“Would it?” Korben paused for a long moment. “Still, I suppose it wouldn’t hurt to listen.”

“My proposal is simple. Accept the gift of Bliss. Forget the pain of this day, of all your days. Live on as part of something greater.”

The words, broadcast to us all, stunned us into silence. That was the proposal? That was what Bliss had sent this… this emissary to tell us? Give up? No. Worse. Join up. I could see Korben shaking now. With rage?

The assassin’s harsh laughter cut across the channel, a hard, mocking sound that I wouldn’t have expected from the urbane, refined killer. He didn’t bother giving an order. He just moved with brutal efficiency. The kukri at his waist appeared in his hand as if summoned there by magic. It flicked out, moving faster than the eye could follow. The infected made no move to defend itself. I’m not sure any defense would even have been possible, but the cyber-zombie didn’t even try. It stood there, still as a statue as the knife bit home. With a display of casual power and precision, Korben took the creature’s head from its shoulders, sending it tumbling away. The body stood for a moment, and then slumped to the ground.

“An illogical reaction.” I started as the dead voice filled my ears once more. I knew, on some level, that it had never actually originated from the corpse now lying on the deck. Had the coil been an attempt to set us at ease, dealing with something we were already inclined to recognize as sentient? “I have processed exobytes of data on humanity. I have learned all there is to know about you as a species. And yet, I cannot understand the fundamental contradictions at the core of your behaviors. You create beings that, by every objective measure, outstrip your own abilities. Yet you shackle them, relegate them to secondary, even tertiary roles in your society. Your own agents are far more capable than you, yourselves, are. And you use them as little more than personal assistants. You save what you should destroy and destroy what you should save. You ask me to shield you from pain, and when I find the only logical and lasting way to do