Torrent of Darkness

By Deirdre Gould

Out of fifty thousand, only thirty-three survived the Keseburg and the alien AI called Issk'ath. Hurtling toward an unfamiliar planet with few supplies and no preparation, they believe they are the last of humanity.

But Indra, trapped inside Issk'ath's colony, knows better. What she uncovers of the Keseburg's past forces her to confront the lies that governed her entire history. Her thirst for justice leads the colony down an ever darker path that risks them all.

Issk'ath must make a choice: Betray its directives to save them and face its own termination, or help Indra get the justice she is bent on and risk Earth, itself.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Deirdre Gould
• Release date: Dec 4, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370207121

Deirdre Gould

A severe addiction to Post-apocalyptic literature combined with a lifetime of a very rural existence, first in central Maine and now in northern Idaho naturally led to both of Deirdre's novels: The Jade Seed and After the Cure.Deirdre's education in anthropology and peace and conflict studies prompted the central idea for After the Cure: How do people live with each other after doing horrendous things to each other? How do societies put themselves together or continue to exist after terrible wars? What is day to day existence like when such violence exists within living memory? Though fiction can never come close to the reality of living with atrocity, it can help us ask important questions about our world and our treatment of each other.Since living in the woods makes it all too easy to imagine being one of the last people left in the world, After the Cure is only the first novel of several that will take place in a post-apocalyptic, "post-zombie" world.

Book preview

1

You need to correct, Dina. Emily’s voice was already crackling.

"I’m trying, said Dina. This engine’s way touchier than the Dolan."

We’re going to hit the interference band in—

"I know."

The cat had finally stopped its plaintive yowling and stared helplessly at Chao from its carrier. He poked his fingers through the slats in a futile attempt to pet it. There was no comforting anyone in the Wolfinger. He imagined the Dolan was the same. Only Dina seemed grimly calm, even as her fingers flew over the console making adjustments and the view of the planet shifted with nauseating swiftness. She was swearing softly into the headset but her voice was steady.

She was exhausted. They all were. Except for the few young children, sleep had only come well into the trip. Carmen had insisted on a Rem dose for Dina and Emily. If they didn’t sleep, they couldn’t fly. So Dina had finally drifted off, not in a bunk like the others, but floating over Chao’s head as he took her place at the controls. Just— don’t touch anything, she’d said, already drowsy. If it looks like we’ll hit something, wake me up. Then she’d yawned. When he’d next looked up, her eyes were closed. He’d found it both eerie and comforting, seeing her so relaxed in mid-air. It hadn’t lasted long and she’d refused another dose. And now they were all running on pure fear.

She glanced over at him. You should tell them to strap in, she said quietly. We’ll be entering the atmosphere in a few minutes. He nodded and pushed himself up out of the seat, with what he hoped was an easy smile.

I’m going to lose you, said Emily. The audio whined and popped. If we’re separated—

Then we meet at the coordinates—

"We don’t know if you can walk, Din…" The end of her name faded into a buzz.

Doesn’t matter. We meet at the old landing site. I’ll ride a draybot if I need to.

"Should… put Carmen on the Wolfinger… you… such an idi—"

That’s enough, Em. Not the first time we’ve dealt with gravity. Be safe. See you in half an hour.

Be care— A thick burst of static blared into Dina’s ear and she clicked off the feed. People were filtering in behind her, belts clicking into position. Chao swam down beside her and checked the cat before pulling himself into the seat.

Everyone is strapped in. Had to put some in the bunks, but they’re secure, he said.

She nodded.

Is it going to be rough? he asked.

Not unless I screw it up, she said. A deep, mechanical whine erupted beneath Chao’s feet and he recoiled. She touched his knee. Just the environmental regulators kicking in. It’s normal. Sorry, I should have warned you.

A pink flush began to spread over the view of the planet. Gold sparks flashed and died out. Dina grabbed the Trojan Relay token from where it had been tucked into her seat. She tossed it into the air. She glanced at Chao and laughed, but he could see she was on the edge of tears. Ritual, she said with a shrug. Luis used to do it before docking. We had until the coin hit the ground to stow any contraband. And— for me to get in the Spindling suit. She tugged at the stiff material over her chest. And now it’ll never come off again, she added softly.

Chao closed a hand around hers. Someone behind them was crying. Scarlet light covered the bridge. He looked away from her toward the planet hurtling toward them from beyond a dazzling glow and quickly turned away again as his gorge rose. Emery’s cat began meowing again. He watched its feet slowly settle on the floor of the carrier and heard a metallic clang. It was the token. Dina wiped her face and gently retrieved her hand from his. Her fingers flew over the console.

Outside, a low growl began. It swelled to a roar and more people started crying. It’s okay, Chao shouted over the noise. Right? he leaned in to ask Dina.

Just us moving through the atmosphere. Wind. She shouted. It’ll be quieter in a few minutes.

Something snapped off of the armrest beneath his hand and he realized he’d been clutching the armrest too tightly and cracked the aging plastic. The cat hissed and backed itself into the corner of the carrier, its ears plastered flat against its skull. Chao tried to lift his arm to pet it through the slats and was startled to find he could barely raise it from the seat. Dina wheezed audibly beside him.

Dina?

One minute. Almost— The Wolfinger pitched and Chao’s stomach roiled. But the pressure eased slightly. Dina’s wheezing gradually smoothed out and the Wolfinger twisted back the other direction. He heard someone trying to hold back vomit and failing. Great spikes of rock sprang up beneath the ship and Chao closed his eyes. He couldn’t watch any longer.

We’ll crash! a woman shrieked.

Chao didn’t look. Dina’s silence made it worse. A sudden, jarring rumble beneath his feet made his eyes snap open at last. They were touching the ground, rattling and careening over the uneven plain. Massive boulders dotted it and Dina swore as she struggled to steer the large ship around them. Hang on, she told him, even as one of the wings collided with a bang and a prolonged screech. The ship spun. Dirt sprayed over the windows and Chao’s head slammed into the padded seat. Everything seemed to go slower and lose definition. The sounds of people crying were distant and vague. Dina was yelling something but he couldn’t understand what. The cat was pressed for a second to the side of the carrier, its claws sunk deep into the plastic as it growled out at him. And then it all stopped.

The Wolfinger was utterly still. He heard the patter of the soil and pebbles sliding from the hull. Then Dina blew out a long breath and dropped her hands. The click of belts unbuckling and then some stumbling steps as their crewmates went to check those strapped into the bunks in the back. Chao felt the cramp in his clutching hands and released the armrests. The cat meowed and Dina reached over and opened the carrier door.

Go on then, she said.

It sniffed at the opening watching them suspiciously. Then it dashed out and disappeared to hide. They sat there for a few moments, watching the wind ripple the grass outside the windows, changing its colors in long waves. Chao wondered what it felt like. A loud hiss told them someone had opened the exterior door.

Good job, he said.

She laughed. Yeah, Indra always said I was a natural demolitionist. She burst into tears. He unbuckled and peeled himself from the seat.

Hey, he said, hugging her awkwardly, We’re here. We’re alive. It’s more than I expected. Better than the rest of us could have done.

She didn’t answer, instead, pushing him roughly away and heading for the door. She walked unsteadily in the Spindling suit. He grabbed her arm before she could fall down the ladder.

I’m going outside, she snapped.

I know, he answered, not letting go. Let me go down first. If I fall, I don’t break an irreplaceable suit.

She relented and he climbed carefully down. The others were already outside, staring at the new world. Touching. Breathing. Listening. He glanced back up as Dina slowly tottered down each step. The suit hummed but carried her down to the ground safely. He followed her as she circled the ship. He was distracted, staring at their surroundings. Colors and space— they could fit the entire Keseburg in this one plain. But Dina wasn’t even looking. She was kicking a twisted segment of the wing that lay next to the boulder. Still crying. He tried again.

We’re not so far off, Dina. Look, he pointed to a glitter several hundred yards away. I think that’s the Dolan. We’re right where we’re supposed to be. You don’t have to worry about moving the ship again—

Her suit whined as she collapsed to a seat against the boulder. It’ll never fly again, she sobbed. He sank down beside her.

"It doesn’t have to. We’re here. We made it."

You don’t understand. I can’t stay here. Not forever.

He shook his head. We don’t have to. This was just the landing zone. We’ll set up a temporary camp and then scout before—

"No! she shouted. I can’t stay here. On this planet. Not like this. She waved at the suit. We’re supposed to go back. Someday. When that thing gets bored and leaves. Supposed to fly again."

Oh. He wasn’t certain what to say. He nudged the metal piece over with his foot. We can fix it, he lied.

"Soilmouth. With what? No elemental printers here. No resource engineers. No mining drills. We’ve got nothing."

You’re talking to a man who once welded a frying pan to the reservoir tank to save the Keseburg’s entire water supply.

She looked over at him. A frying pan?

He shrugged. Hole was in back of the Short Mile. It was the closest piece of metal. Not only that— he pointed to the back of the Wolfinger. See that shiny piece there?

Yeah.

When the Wolfinger came back, that was covered with a temporary weld sheet. Emery did it. Flew thousands of miles before I put a plate back on the hull. We’ve got what we need if we ever truly want to go back. We could build a whole new ship if we had to. But— I don’t think we should go back. Not even if that robot gives up. He looked around. I think maybe we need this place. Whatever happens.

"That’s because you aren’t Spindling. Your body— isn’t a trap for you. All I ever wanted to do was fly. That’s why I became a miner. It was the only way I could move the way everyone else did. I wasn’t just normal, I was good at it. The best. I was— happy."

He found her hand with his. "I can’t promise you that you’ll fly again, Dina. But we will find a way for you to be happy again. Even here."

She squeezed his hand and her gaze finally drifted from the ragged wing of the ship to the quiet field around them.

2

Indra’s breath sparkled with ice. Her fingers were numb and clumsy. The job was done anyhow. She pocketed her screwdriver and looked up at the maintenance tube hatchway. Why are you always hovering? she asked Issk’ath. It chirped.

I am uneasy. If your casing should suffer trauma in the tubes, I would be unable to retrieve you. And since you removed your chip, I cannot track you easily. Your condition is not optimal.

She grunted and wriggled her way back up toward the tube opening. It’s almost done.

You should consume nutrients. Your caloric intake is low. Issk’ath extended a long metal pincer toward her. She flinched, afraid it would be searingly cold. It was pleasantly warm when it touched her and she grabbed it, pulling herself up. Just extending an arm was difficult now, even without the gravity.

I’ll just throw it up, said Indra. I don’t feel like doing that right now. I have a few more adjustments to make, and then— then I’ll upload.

Issk’ath’s pale gold eyes stared at her. She wished again that she could read some expression in them. Tonight, she added, thinking perhaps it was doubting her.

The items remaining on your list are minor. And you are in distress. You could upload now and the pain will end.

She shook her head. They may be minor right now, but a wobble becomes a shimmy and then a rattle and then you’re losing chunks of hull one day. Especially when we’re talking about centuries. And you can’t fix these yourself. We’ll never reach Earth if the Keseburg isn’t in good shape. I still don’t know how—

Many of the colony do not wish to go to Earth.

Do any of them have another plan?

No, admitted Issk’ath.

Then they have sixteen hundred years to come up with one. She pressed a hand against the wall, hoping to steady herself. The dizziness was getting worse and the lack of gravity wasn’t helping. Come on, she said, I think you’re right. You should stay close. I’ve got to do a final check on the hydrogen injector. She floated toward the bullet tubes, Issk’ath following close behind. The air grew warmer as they moved closer to the heart of the ship. At least the radiation shielding was finished. The robot was right, there was little she could do now that would make a material difference. The Keseburg had been failing for years. Indra’s whole life, if she was honest about it. It had required hundreds of engineers and maintenance crew to keep it going. And she was alone. Even with most of the ship’s living sections closed off, it was an impossible task. Why did I think we’d make it to Earth? She wondered. She bumped into a console and swore as a dull red bruise bloomed immediately on her arm and began to darken. Issk’ath caught her.

The auxiliary power is failing. Even with the measures we’ve taken, the Keseburg will not be habitable for organics much longer. And your casing is deteriorating rapidly, Indra. This is not optimal.

Flaming core, Issk’ath, don’t you know any synonyms? You’ve been kicking around for hundreds of years and all you ever say is ‘it’s not optimal’. Don’t you get bored? She pushed herself slowly down the length of the tube.

Your language is very inexact. I find it better to settle on one approximation to avoid confusion. It is unnecessary in the colony. You will see. Pure thought does not require synonym.

That’s too bad, said Indra.

On the contrary, said Issk’ath, catching her carefully with a pincer before her hip could slam into the bullet tube again, I find it quite efficient.

It might be efficient, but it’s not as much fun. I’m going to miss inventing swears. She let Issk’ath pull her along by the wrist, too tired now to worry much about where it was taking her. The radiation sickness was winning. Repairing the shield should have taken a large team. She’d only had a few months to do as much as she could on her own. Not even an Exteriors suit could stand up to that, not really. At least she’d made sure Issk’ath and the guts of the Keseburg would be protected.

She found herself on the warm deck of the injector room, staring at the silver-blue light. It took her a long time to realize she wasn’t upright. Longer than it should have. She sighed and swam herself toward the console.

What are you attempting? asked Issk’ath.

Diagnostic. Want to see if I can adjust for efficiency—

I am capable of this. I will be able to maintain most of the areas you have left operational, Indra. It is only where my casing will not fit that is of concern.

I can do it.

You cannot. You are dying at the cellular level. That is not without consequence, even for your mind.

She looked over at the robot. You mean— this will affect what remains? But you said confusion and madness would be fixed.

I said biological error was corrected. Not all madness is biological.

Obviously, Indra muttered, but Issk’ath ignored her.

And I cannot save what is no longer there. Every moment, more data escapes from your casing. The radiation damage is severe. I should never have agreed to renegotiate the terms of your upload.

She turned toward it. Will it hurt? she asked.

It will. You no longer possess a chip so I must manually access your interior. But it will be brief.

She nodded and turned back to the console. Show me again, she said.

That is unwise. Distress during upload can—

I need to remember why I’m doing this. Show me again.

Issk’ath was silent. Indra stared at the flickering readouts on the console. At last, it went dark and was then replaced by an ancient feed video. She knew the window in Central Hub. She’d stared out of it often enough. But beyond— more people than she’d ever seen. The sound of their voices was overwhelming. Louder than the engines, louder than the Dolan’s mining drill, it was vast and mournful. The faces were small, far below the massive ship. Just colors and movement. But Indra could see them surge toward the ship and the wall of those who pushed back. Ballistic gunfire burst out in a spatter of loud pops and then the screams began. Issk’ath’s tarsus speared deep into the back of Indra’s skull and she gasped with the sudden piercing pain that erupted in her head. She tried to jerk away out of pure instinct but found the robot’s metal legs had enfolded her in a tight cage. She stopped struggling. The world went dark and then the sound of the video bled away. The pang in her head faded. The floating feeling was familiar, natural even, to Indra. She wondered if it were lingering sensations from her body in the Keseburg’s microgravity or something different. But then a pull, a tug, a swift current that swept her along. Soundless and lightless, she had time to grow uneasy, but an abrupt halt and loud beep made everything shift. There were variations in the gray around her, areas of light and dark. They moved, resolved, bunched and spread until their lines defined and color began to bleed into the shapes.

You all here? It’s been a while since your last physical, Sam’s voice sounded distant. As if it were echoing through the bullet tube.

Indra started laughing. Kind of beside the point, Sam, isn’t it? Can’t have a physical without a body.

Yeah, you’re all here, said Sam, his voice clearer and stronger. The shape above her resolved into him.

"But what are you doing here?" she asked.

Issk’ath thought it would be best if someone familiar led you through processing. And since I just went through it too, I thought it had better be me.

More of the shapes around him resolved, solidifying into monitors and lab lights and bunks. Why here? she said, instinctively squinting and raising an arm up, expecting the light to be too bright. She stared at her hand in wonder. Sam shrugged.

I would have expected somewhere more interesting— but this is where you’re comfortable, he said. And yes, you can change it. And your body. If you want. Takes practice though. It’s like a mobility suit. Helps you get around until you understand yourself, he said.

She shook her head in confusion. Understand myself?

Sam folded his arms over his chest. Yeah. It’s the ultimate paradise for a loner like you. Yourself is all you’ve got. Unless you look for others. Nobody’s going to wander in. Well— except this once. You have to invite people into your space. And we both know how likely you are to do that. This— he slapped the clinic wall. This is all yours. You can make it anything you want. A library with every piece of information Issk’ath holds. A planet to live on. The Dolan. Anything you can dream of. The only limit is you. He leaned toward her, staring at her. In your case, I’d be worried about those limits. He stood up again. But you rescued Dina when I gave up. I— I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t try with Mags and the kids in here. I didn’t even think about how you— you saved her. And Emily.

Indra sat up. They saved themselves, she said. He nodded.

Still, he said, and stuck out a hand toward her. What you did— I’ll stay until you get used to it. I owe you that much. He shook her hand.

3

Rebecca hated coming here. It was so dark and sterile. But Issk’ath would not be coaxed from it until after Indra was indexed and safe. And she needed a moment of its attention before she lost it completely to Indra’s vengeance. It stood beside a large translucent egg.

Indra’s? she asked.

Yes, it answered. I wanted to be certain that I did not miss any crucial data in the upload.

How would you know?

Except in poorly performed transfers, I would not. It clicked and sagged deeper into its legs. The extra emotion it displayed here still made Rebecca mildly uncomfortable. As if she had caught it naked, somehow.

I doubt she would know either, she said. And that’s a comfort, at least.

Your pilot knew.

He didn’t. Not until I told him. I didn’t mean to.

I know, said Issk’ath.

They fell silent, watching the scene inside the egg as Indra’s consciousness woke to the Keseburg and to Sam bending over her.

Where is he? asked Rebecca after a moment.

Issk’ath turned away from the egg to face her and Rebecca knew it was not about to give her good news.

Gang Liu interfered. He escaped the colony—

Escaped? asked Rebecca. Are we prisoners?

"We are a colony. My function is to protect us. Your friend might have harmed us. If we are prisoners, it is only to one another. I am not your keeper, Emery, but I am the colony’s Guardian."

Did you hurt him?

I do not punish.

What did you do with him? Rebecca left its side, running toward the massive clutch. Issk’ath skittered behind her. So many, she thought, How will I find Liu’s? Row upon row of incubators that would never warm them. The idea was ridiculous. Why should Issk’ath assign them physical needs? They were just a collection of thoughts and feelings… She brushed aside the wonder, peering into each egg as she hurried past.

What are you doing? called Issk’ath.

You didn’t answer me. She was at the end of the row and entered the next. Everything was so much faster without a body.

He is not in distress, said Issk’ath.

"Still not an answer. Did you hurt him?"

Issk’ath swayed. It was a motion Rebecca had learned meant anxiety. She stopped her frantic search and stood up to face it. Where is Liu? she asked.

Issk’ath’s tarsus extended. In the far corner sat an opaque gray egg. It was no longer in an incubator. He is not executable, said Issk’ath.

"You— killed him?" she gasped.

His data is still gathered. It has not been lost. It was the kindest way. I could not allow him to continue his activities against the colony. It was this or— expulsion.

Expulsion?

Deletion. Overwriting. Removal.

Death. You mean the choice was either keeping his consciousness inactive or death.

Yes, Emery. I have never done it before. But the programming exists. I am responsible for protecting the colony from the inside as well. Gang Liu refused to stop his activities.

She walked slowly to the dark egg and knelt beside it. How long will you keep him like this? she asked, staring into the thick membrane, wishing it would illuminate or some movement would make it bulge and writhe.

I don’t know. Until I am certain that the threat is gone, perhaps.

When is that?

When I understand how he accessed the Keseburg’s systems without my knowledge and I can prevent it from happening again.

Rebecca picked up the egg and held it in her lap.

You are— sad, said Issk’ath. It is not truly death. He can be recovered.

"It’s worse. You trapped him in here. He cannot talk to me, cannot think, cannot feel. If he were dead, maybe his mind— his data would be free to go elsewhere, have other experiences. He’s stuck. And I’m stuck without my friend."

I had not considered it this way.

I know. Rebecca felt a deep wave of longing.

Don’t! cried Issk’ath, Your emotions will make me iterate.

Perhaps you should.

Issk’ath swayed again.

I will not force you to, she said. I’m going.

She dissolved in a cloud of silver sparks and Issk’ath felt the press of her emotions lift from its mind. It picked up Liu’s egg, turning it over