Barren

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  When consciousness came to her, so did the pain. Mackenzie's head was pounding, and her stomach felt like it was bruised and tender. Groaning softly as the pain brought her closer to full alertness, Mackenzie lifted her hand to rub her head. But as she went to massage her temple, Mackenzie came to a horrifying realization that woke her faster than any amount of pain could have.

  Where are my fingers!?

  Mackenzie's eyes shot wide open and she quickly sat upright, staring down at the end of her arms. Her right arm was fine, as it had always been, but her left hand... the bionic had been removed.

  Staring in horror at the stump on the end of her left arm, Mackenzie knew that they had figured out how she got out of her restraints. They had taken her hand to make sure she couldn't do it again. She was hindered by her own body once more, a fact that filled her with both rage and despair. She wanted to cry, scream, lash out violently, and God only knew what else, all at once. So consumed by the horror of having woken up with only one hand again, Mackenzie didn't notice the person sitting beside her until they spoke.

  "This is a marvel," Scylla said softly, making Mackenzie jump in surprise at her voice.

  Mackenzie looked up and for the first time took notice of her surroundings. She was in a small, square, room. The similarity of this room to the cells she had seen previously did nothing to calm her nerves, but this room at least had a bed, which Mackenzie was mildly surprised to find she was sitting up on. One wall was the same thick plexiglass that the other cells had and Mackenzie could see out into the hallway beyond and even into the cell across from her own, though no one seemed to be in it. In the corner of her cell, Mackenzie saw a rusted and filthy steel toilet, and she hoped she wouldn't be here long enough to have to use it.

  What truly surprised Mackenzie, though, was Scylla sitting in a simple plastic chair beside her bed, turning something over and over in her hands as she studied it. Looking at what Scylla was holding, Mackenzie saw that it was her bionic hand. Mackenzie's entire body tensed at the sight of it. She longed to reach out and snatch it away, but knew that would be foolish.

  "Such ingenuity," Scylla went on, still studying the bionic hand. "Whoever built this is truly a genius. Tell me... who built this?"

  "Where are my friends?" Mackenzie asked. Jesse, Abbas and Bell were nowhere to be seen, a fact that filled Mackenzie with dread.

  "Your friends are fine," Scylla replied, looking up from the hand to make eye contact with Mackenzie. "They're in different cells. I thought it best to keep you all separated for the time being, lest you pretend you're going to kill me again. Now... Who made this?"

  Scylla was asking pleasantly, but the way she looked at Mackenzie as she asked the question was anything but kind. It was hungry, and cruel. Mackenzie felt a shiver crawl along her spine as she looked into Scylla's eyes.

  "A friend of mine," Mackenzie replied quietly, feeling weak.

  "They must be a good friend to craft such a device for you," Scylla observed. "Does this friend mean something special to you?"

  Mackenzie couldn't believe she was being asked this question now. This hardly seemed like the time or place to discuss whether or not she considered Ethan as more than a friend. To quickly put an end to the topic, Mackenzie shook her head.

  "He's just a friend," she said.

  "He, is it?" Scylla grinned. "Perhaps he feels more for you than you feel for him?"

  Mackenzie didn't know what to say to this, but was spared having to respond when Scylla spoke again.

  "So what is your friend's name?"

  "Er..." Mackenzie hesitated, wondering why Scylla cared. "Ethan. Ethan Renaud."

  It happened so fast, Mackenzie barely noticed, but Scylla's eyes seemed to light up and a smirk flashed across her face. But then it was gone and Scylla resumed studying the bionic hand.

  "Well, Ethan clearly put a lot of work and care into this device," Scylla observed. "I hope you were grateful."

  Suddenly, a thought occurred to Mackenzie, but it was so ludicrous she nearly dismissed it. But her suspicion grew too intense and she had to say something.

  "It was supposed to be him, wasn't it?" Mackenzie demanded. "The person Vasseur was bringing to you, it was supposed to be Ethan."

  Scylla laughed lightly, barely more than a titter, though it was not a pleasant sound. It sounded cruel and belittling.

  "Clever," Scylla nodded. "Yes. Vasseur had promised me a young engineer with great skills by the name of Ethan Renaud. I can't tell you how disappointed I was to find he was not with you. Also that Vasseur was already dead so that I couldn't personally show him my disappointment."

  Mackenzie felt dazed as this information sunk in. Vasseur had promised to hand Ethan over to Scylla? Was that why Vasseur voted for Ethan over Mackenzie? Was that how he came to be one of the Diviner recruits in the first place?

  "Why do you want him?" Mackenzie asked.

  "That's my business," Scylla smiled slyly.

  "All right, then," Mackenzie frowned. "If you won't tell me that, tell me this. Why aren't I dead? Why didn't you kill us?"

  "Ah, excellent question," Scylla nodded, turning Mackenzie's bionic hand over in her own. "Let's just say for now that I am very interested in your ancestry."

  "You mean Captain Miller?"

  Scylla smiled in response, but said nothing more to explain. Instead, she said, "I'd really appreciate your help with something. A task I had hoped your engineer friend would be able to help with, but I think you might just be helpful in your own way."

  "I can't build things," Mackenzie replied. "I won't be much help."

  "Oh, I don't know about that," Scylla said. "You might be more useful than you expect."

  "Why should I help you?" Mackenzie demanded. "I just saw you kill a man after torturing him. You captured me and my friends, threatened to kill us, then locked us up. And Boroslav murdered my friend, Lowe, which you don't seem to have a problem with. Why would I even think about helping you?"

  "Well," Scylla began slowly, as though pondering Mackenzie's question. "If you help me, I'll let you and your friends go free."

  This wasn't what Mackenzie had been expecting to hear. She expected Scylla to become angry, perhaps threaten her, but not offer freedom.

  "You will?" Mackenzie asked incredulously.

  "I'm not unreasonable, Mackenzie," Scylla smiled. "I know I can be... strict with my people, but that's only because I have to be. It's the only way we've survived out here. Sure, we have plenty of water, but order is what's truly needed to maintain society. Rules. Laws. And, when needed, punishments. That man I killed? He stole from my personal supplies. Basically took food right out of my mouth. That's as good as murder according to me and my people. The punishment for such a crime is severe, as it has been since before I came to lead. I didn't write the law, but I will enforce it. I know it must have seemed barbaric to you, but is it any worse than forcing someone to wander into the desert on their own to die?"

  Mackenzie was surprised again by Scylla's words. Not just because of her rationalisation of torturing and murdering, but also because she knew about banishment. The greatest punishment one could receive back in Town.

  "How do you-?" Mackenzie began, but Scylla cut her off with a raised hand.

  "I know far more about your home than you do about mine," Scylla said. "Now, will you help me? In exchange for your freedom?"

  Mackenzie considered Scylla for a long while as she thought. Weighing the options, wondering if she could really trust anything Scylla said. Scylla may have been offering freedom, but how could Mackenzie know Scylla wasn't already planning on just killing her once this task was done? Mackenzie suspected this deal wasn't all it appeared. What she really needed was time. Time to figure out a plan to free the others and escape.

  "I'd only have to do one thing?" Mackenzie asked. "Then my friends and I can go home?"

  "Of course," Scylla grinned.

  "And will you give us a location to resett
le?" Mackenzie pressed.

  "Excuse me?"

  "Our town is nearly out of water," Mackenzie explained. "That's why we were out here. We were looking for a new home. You told us how you would tell Vasseur where to find new water sources. Well, if you want my help, you can do that again. Only this time, it needs to be a substantial source. Something like the river, something that won't run out. If you do that, then I'll help you."

  Scylla tapped her chin thoughtfully as she studied Mackenzie, as though she was a curious entity in a science lab. Mackenzie held her breath as she waited.

  "You set a lot of terms for someone in your position," Scylla noted. "But I accept. You will do this one task for me, then you and your friends can go home. And I will give you the location of another, smaller, river that branches off from my own, several miles from here. Deal?"

  Scylla offered her hand to shake Mackenzie's. Mackenzie hesitated for a moment, still unsure about trusting Scylla for even a moment. Vasseur's words were still repeating in her mind, warning her, but what choice did she have? For the moment, this was all she could do. And even if Scylla planned on backing out of their deal, then Mackenzie had at least bought some time to work out a different plan.

  "Deal," Mackenzie said, shaking Scylla's hand.

  Scylla grinned widely, then rose from her chair. "Excellent. I have to prepare some things first. I'll come collect you when I'm ready. We have to travel off base, but it's not too far. And I have a way of travelling that I think you'll enjoy."

  "Wait," Mackenzie said as Scylla headed for the exit to the cell. "You still haven't told me what you want me to do."

  "I know," Scylla grinned. "I wouldn't want to spoil the surprise."

  Then Scylla tossed Mackenzie's bionic hand to her, which Mackenzie managed to catch in her one hand, bringing it close to her chest. Surprised, Mackenzie looked back to Scylla, silently asking why she would return the bionic.

  "I think you'll need that," Scylla said, leering.

  Then Scylla turned and walked out of the cell, the plexiglass door sealing behind her as she left Mackenzie to wonder if she had made the right decision.

  Time passed slowly in her cell. Mackenzie had no way of knowing how much time had actually passed, but it felt like hours. She paced around the small square room, fretting about Jesse, Abbas and Bell; where were they, were they okay, were they even still alive? The more she wondered these things, the more afraid for them she became.

  Despite her best efforts, Mackenzie was unable to deny the inevitable. She had to use the disgusting, rusty, toilet. She prayed that no one would come by while she was exposed and, to her immense relief, no one did.

  Eventually though, Scylla did return. With two guards following her loyally, and none other than Boroslav at her side. Boroslav took a blank white card from his pocket and touched it to a scanner beside the cell door. A doorway silently appeared, as though the plexiglass wall was melting away.. Mackenzie guessed it was some kind of nano-tech wall, millions of tiny parts that could do pretty much anything they were programmed to do. In this case, they could form a solid and strong wall, but at the touch of Boroslav's keycard, they would move aside to form an opening.

  Once the way was open, Scylla stood outside the cell, staring in at Mackenzie.

  "Are you ready to help?" Scylla asked.

  "Well, it's not like I've got my hands full in here," Mackenzie replied snidely.

  Boroslav sneered angrily, but Scylla chuckled quietly.

  "Come on," Scylla said, gesturing for Mackenzie to exit her cell.

  "I want to see my friends," Mackenzie said as forcefully as she could, remaining rooted where she stood.

  "Are you changing the terms of our agreement?" Scylla asked, her eyes narrowing.

  "Part of that agreement was that after I help you, you let us all go," Mackenzie pointed out. "What good is that promise if they're already dead? I need to know they're okay. Then I'll help you."

  "Let me teach her some respect, Scylla," Boroslav whispered. "There is no need for deal making. We can easily make her help."

  Scylla silenced Boroslav by holding up her index finger in a "one moment" gesture, though she didn't bother to look at him. The simple act made Boroslav cringe away like a dog that had been kicked by its master. Scylla smiled at Mackenzie with what seemed like amusement.

  "Fair enough," she said. "As it happens, we have to pass by them anyway. Let's go."

  Her heart racing, unsure about what she had gotten herself into, Mackenzie followed Scylla and Boroslav, the other two guards walking in their wake, down the long corridor. After a long walk, Scylla stopped and turned around to face Mackenzie, spreading her arms as though unveiling some great sight.

  "Your friends," Scylla grinned. "Alive and well."

  Mackenzie peered in the nearest cell and saw Jesse sitting on the edge of the bed. He was glaring furiously at Scylla and Boroslav, as though he longed to smash through the plexiglass and tear them both apart. At the sight of Mackenzie, his eyes widened in surprise.

  In the cell opposite his, Mackenzie saw Abbas. He was standing in front of the plexiglass, staring out at Mackenzie with a questioning and concerned look on his face.

  "Hey!" came a voice from the cell beside Jesse's, followed by a loud bang. Bell had slammed her hand against the plexiglass angrily. "What the hell!? What are you doing with her? Mackenzie, are you okay? Did they hurt you?"

  "I'm fine," Mackenzie said, raising her voice enough for them all to hear her through the plexiglass. "Scylla just wants my help with something."

  "Did you tell her to stow it?" Jesse asked. "She doesn't deserve any help with anything. And as for Mr Pretty there, I wouldn't piss on him if he was on fire. That's the kind of help they deserve."

  "Perhaps you would like another beating, eh?" Boroslav snapped, banging his fist once against Jesse's cell. Jesse just grinned back at him, satisfied he had gotten a rise out Boroslav.

  "If I help with this one thing," Mackenzie went on, "Scylla agrees to let us go. She'll even tell us where to find a new water source, something more permanent. She gave me her word."

  "And you trust her word, Miller?" Abbas asked skeptically.

  "Right now, that's all I can do," Mackenzie said helplessly, spreading her palms and shrugging.

  Abbas sighed. "I don't like it. But you're right. Just watch your back, okay? No telling what these people are up to."

  "I know," Mackenzie nodded. "I'll be careful."

  "Mackenzie will be treated with the utmost respect while in my company," Scylla added sweetly. "No harm will come to her, of that you can be certain. Her assistance is of vital importance, so her safety is my number one priority."

  "Yeah, I bet," Bell snapped sarcastically.

  Ignoring Bell, Scylla turned to Mackenzie, still smiling. "Are you satisfied now? Your friends are all in fine condition. No one has touched them since they were detained. And they will remain safe while we work, awaiting your return to free them. Good?"

  Mackenzie nodded. "Yeah. We're good."

  "Then let's go," Scylla said, sounding genuinely excited. "We have a lot to do."

  Mackenzie gave Jesse, Abbas and Bell one last fleeting look, hoping to tell them with her eyes that she was working on a plan B, just in case Scylla went back on her word. Whether or not they understood, Mackenzie didn't know, but she met Jesse's eyes for several moments and felt unexplainably confident that he understood. He seemed to look right through her, like he was reading her mind, then gave her an imperceptible nod, and the tiniest of smiles. Then Scylla led her away, towards the mysterious task she had planned for her.

  "I think my friends would like some food," Mackenzie said to Scylla as they walked.

  "Setting more terms, are we?" Scylla asked. She was smiling as she spoke, but her tone was cold.

  "No," Mackenzie shook her head. "I'm just saying. I don't know how long this job will take, so they could still be locked up for a while. I'd hate for them to starve to death befor
e I got back."

  Scylla grinned and nodded. "Don't worry. They will be taken care of."

  Mackenzie noted that Scylla didn't agree to providing food for the others, and the way she said they would be taken care of did nothing to ease Mackenzie's concern. Mackenzie remained silent, though.

  A short while later, Mackenzie was led out of the enormous shuttle that had been retrofitted into a base for Scylla's people. Mackenzie squinted in the sunlight, but took a moment to marvel at the river once more, remembering how happy they had all been to find it. She remembered swimming with the others; Lowe making jokes; Bell laughing and splashing everyone; Abbas having a rare moment where he lapsed out of his stoic command and actually had fun. And Jesse, diving under the water, swimming circles around Mackenzie as she had floated lazily on the surface.

  Pity it didn't last, Mackenzie thought, thinking of poor Lowe, and the others currently imprisoned.

  Suddenly, there was a loud sound from the sky, like the roar of a dozen engines, and Mackenzie instinctively ducked as something flew overhead, but Scylla and Boroslav were indifferent to the noise. Looking up, Mackenzie saw that the cause of the roaring were flying a hundred feet above, posing no threat. Mackenzie marvelled at the sight of them though, because she had never before seen anything like them outside of textbooks.

  There were three in total, soaring overhead towards the river. They were machines, gliding through the sky effortlessly, their engines humming loudly. They looked like aircraft that Mackenzie had only ever seen pictures of, painted a dull black with white stripes and numbers on the sides. They had four large rectangular engines on either side of the vessel, which were attached to thick rods that seemed to rotate, turning the craft left and right as the engines tilted forward and back, independent of one another. The crafts had a tail with rudders and an additional engine that looked as though it provided forward thrust. Mackenzie could see bright lights within each engine, brightening and dimming with every adjustment the crafts made in the air.

  The body of the crafts were strange to Mackenzie. While most pictures of aircraft she had seen looked sleek and streamlined, these looked like they could have been pregnant with another aircraft. The belly of the aircrafts bulged and seemed to take up at least half of the total mass, making them seem far too large and heavy for flight. Mackenzie could see the windows to the cockpit at the nose of the aircraft, but could not see any pilot behind the tinted glass.

  As Mackenzie watched, one of the aircraft peeled away from the formation, leaving the other two to continue their progress towards the river. Still in awe, Mackenzie stared as the two aircraft banked right and lined themselves up with the river. They began to descend, gliding down towards the river's surface. Just as Mackenzie thought they were both about to crash, large compartments opened up in the enormous bellies of the ships and they skimmed across the water like swans landing on a lake. Watching carefully, Mackenzie saw they were scooping water out of the river. After they drank their fill, the ships receptacle doors closed and they soared back into the sky, flying towards an unknown destination with large quantities of water in storage.

  Turning her attention to the third aircraft that had broken away from the other two, Mackenzie saw that it was now slowly approaching her and Scylla.

  To Mackenzie's amazement, the aircraft didn't simply fly. It hovered. Mackenzie watched in awe as the craft slowed in the air until it was completely motionless, then it began to slowly descend, turning in the air to land sideways to its small audience.

  The aircraft landed gently; some sand and dirt was kicked up by the powerful engines, but it otherwise landed smoothly. The whirring of the engines began to subside as they powered down, the loud humming steadily dying away to a gentle drone and then nothing.

  "Whoa," Mackenzie whispered.

  "Would I be right in thinking you've never flown before?" Scylla asked Mackenzie.

  "Yeah," Mackenzie breathed in amazement, still staring at the aircraft. "I haven't."

  "Her people are too primitive," Boroslav sniffed. "They used every resource they had to set up a moving town, always looking for water, but never thought to keep anything like this for its designed purpose. If they had any, I expect they scrapped every VTOL they had for the parts and metal."

  "VTOL?" Mackenzie repeated, ignoring Boroslav's obvious disdain for her home.

  "Vertical Take Off and Landing," Scylla explained, beginning to lead the way to the aircraft. "It makes for far easier travel across the deserts than a truck, and it has its other uses, too. You saw them collect water. They can carry up to 30,000 litres and deliver it to my soldiers in the field."

  As they approached, a door in the side of the aircraft began to open, lowering a flight of stairs to the ground. Scylla quickly climbed up the stairs and vanished inside the aircraft. Mackenzie hesitated at the steps, feeling wary of getting into the flying machine. Surely something this large couldn't stay in the air?

  "Move," Boroslav ordered, prodding her in the back. "Scylla has no patience for cowards."

  "I'm not a coward," Mackenzie snapped.

  "Then shut your mouth and get on the plane," Boroslav snarled, shoving her farther up the stairs.

  Scowling, Mackenzie climbed up and entered the aircraft. Inside, it was surprisingly bland. The outside had made it seem so otherworldly and intimidating. Inside, however, it looked remarkably similar to the inside of Rhiannon, though it was somewhat colder and uninviting. There were padded seats lining the walls, Mackenzie could see the cockpit to her right where a pilot still wearing a helmet was flipping switches and peaking softly into a radio. To Mackenzie's left, there was a hatch in the floor, which she assumed led into the aircraft's large belly. The bright fluorescent lights overhead lit up every corner of the aircraft; Mackenzie took note of this fact on the off chance she needed to hide anywhere. Despite the size of the aircraft, the cabin appeared to be rather diminutive.

  Boroslav then appeared up the stairs behind her and Mackenzie could feel his contemptuous eyes on her. The two guards followed behind him, both silent and stony as ever.

  "Mikhail!" a voice suddenly cried.

  Turning towards the voice, Mackenzie saw a small figure lurch out of the cockpit. He had apparently been seated in the copilot chair, but was so small and slight that Mackenzie hadn't seen him. The young-looking boy had a lopsided grin on his face, a strong underbite, and his forehead seemed to be flatter than most, simply dissolving under his hairline and becoming his scalp. His eyes seemed too big for his head, but they sparkled with joy. The boy was hurrying towards Boroslav as fast as his stumpy, stick-thin, legs would allow. The effort seemed immense for him, as he was already puffing and wheezing, despite having only gone a few steps.

  "Slow down, Vasilii," Boroslav said, his voice surprising Mackenzie by how calm and soothing it had suddenly become. "You will hurt yourself again if you hurry."

  The boy, Vasilii, started to slow down, but the look of excitement on his face didn't diminish. Mackenzie figured he was close to her own age, maybe seventeen or eighteen, but he had a way of moving and looking around that was far more like that of a child.

  Vasilii grabbed Boroslav's arm in both of his hands and tugged excitedly, still wheezing slightly. Mackenzie had heard breathing like that before, in a few of the asthmatics back in Town.

  "I haven't seen you all day!" the boy exclaimed. "Where have you been?"

  "I have been doing work for our fearless leader, Vasilii," Boroslav grinned, gesturing towards Scylla. "Why don't you say hello?"

  Vasilii turned away from Boroslav and seemed to only now notice Scylla standing there. He smiled up at her, his eyes still sparkling with excitement.

  "Hello, Scylla!" Vasilii grinned.

  "Hello, young Vasilii," Scylla replied. "Have you been taking care of my sister for me?"

  "Sister?" Mackenzie blurted out.

  "Yes," came a new voice. "That would be me."

  The pilot was exiting the cockpit and removing
their helmet. As soon as the helmet was lifted away, Mackenzie saw a wave of gleaming black hair fall down around the female pilot's shoulders. Mackenzie couldn't help but stare at this woman, because she looked almost exactly like Scylla. She had the same thin lips, the same high cheekbones, the same pointed chin, even the same eyes. The only notable difference between the two was the length in their hair; Scylla's being clipped short and this woman's hanging to her shoulders.

  She wore a jumpsuit, which must have been an old pilot uniform found in the Panspermia shuttle, because it wasn't made of any material that was commonplace on Icarus. It was formfitting and sleek, but it was the gun on the woman's hip that Mackenzie took note of.

  Mackenzie glanced at the gun, thinking that if she was ever able to get her hands on it, she might be able to get the upper hand. Then again, the last time Mackenzie had threatened Scylla with a gun, it hadn't exactly worked out. Mackenzie wasn't sure if she was capable of killing another human, but if she had to, she at least knew where to find a gun now.

  "Hello, Min-Hee," Scylla greeted, offering a cool smile.

  "Hello, Hae-Jung," Scylla's sister replied, just as cooly.

  Scylla's expression instantly morphed from an icy smile to a vicious scowl.

  "You know I don't go by that name anymore," Scylla hissed.

  "I'm sorry," Min-Hee replied, not bothering to hide her insincerity. "I forgot."

  "Hmph," Scylla snorted. "Just get us in the air, I want to visit the site."

  "Right away, sister," Min-Hee replied, bowing her head slightly before turning and marching back to the cockpit. Mackenzie noticed that Min-Hee said sister with a slight tone of bitterness and suspected that maybe not everyone around this place thought of Scylla with as much reverence as Boroslav.

  Scylla took a seat in one of the chairs bolted to the wall and began to strap herself in. Scylla then looked up at Mackenzie and, smiling, patted the seat beside her, inviting Mackenzie to sit. Boroslav shoved Mackenzie's shoulder, silently commanding her to do as Scylla wanted.

  Trying to hide her displeasure at having to be so close to Scylla, Mackenzie sat down and strapped herself in, pulling the straps over her shoulders and buckling them at her waist. Boroslav sat against the opposite wall, so that he could keep a close eye on Mackenzie. His two soldiers sat around him, but the small and frail-looking Visilii took the place of honor at Boroslav's right hand side.

  Suddenly, the engines around the aircraft powered up and roared loudly, making Mackenzie jump. The aircraft, or VTOL, as Boroslav had called it, began to ascend quickly, pushing Mackenzie down into the seat. A moment later, they were flying away over the desert. Mackenzie felt nervous at the idea of soaring above the ground and was momentarily grateful that there were no windows in the cabin to show how high up they were. She didn't really want to know.

  "Hi," Vasilii said to Mackenzie, locking his large eyes on her. "I'm Vasilii. Who are you?"

  Mackenzie smiled at the frail-looking boy. "My name's Mackenzie. It's nice to meet you, Vasilii."

  "Oh, she's pretty!" Vasilii said to Boroslav. "Can I play with her?"

  Boroslav grinned at Mackenzie, his eyes glinting with that look of anticipation for impending violence, his canine tooth poking between his cleft lip. Mackenzie felt instantly uncomfortable and couldn't help but turn away, not wanting to look into those soulless eyes.

  "Not today, Vasilii," Boroslav replied. "Scylla wants to play her own games first."

  "Aw," Vasilii pouted, still staring at Mackenzie. "But I'm getting bored with my other toy. I want a new one."

  "Your other toy?" Mackenzie repeated, beginning to feel nervous. "You mean, another person to play with?"

  "Uh-huh," Vasilii nodded, grinning. "It's my toy. It used to be Mikhail's toy, but he gave it to me. But it's getting old. I think I'd like a new one."

  "We'll see about getting you a new one soon," Boroslav said gently to Vasilii. "First we have work to do."

  "Okay," Vasilii sighed.

  "Don't mind him," Scylla said to Mackenzie. "Vasilii was born with some difficulties. Microcephaly and Dandy-Walker Syndrome, to name a couple. But he's very dear to our friend Mikhail, here."

  "He raised me," Vasilii chimed in brightly. "My parents were bad people, Mikhail told me so. They tried to drown me in the river when I was born. So Mikhail punished them, isn't that right Mikhail?"

  "That's right," Boroslav nodded, watching Mackenzie carefully, as though waiting for her to ask how he punished them. Mackenzie didn't need to ask, though. She suspected she already knew.

  "There are many people with congenital birth defects and health problems in our community," Scylla explained. "You may have noticed Boroslav's lip, but he is one of the minor cases. Vasilii is a little more... extreme, but none of these things are uncommon around here. We take care of our own, regardless of their physical or mental capacities. I suspect a place like that might appeal to you, Mackenzie."

  Mackenzie unconsciously placed her hand over her bionic. True enough, she had been picked on at times for having been born with only one hand, and the idea of a society that elevated people like her to positions of power with no concern over their physical capability sounded nice, but... these people were still cruel.

  "Why do so many of your people have, er..." Mackenzie began, but was unsure how to phrase the question.

  "Congenital defects?" Scylla offered. "Because of the radiation."

  "Radiation?" Mackenzie repeated, feeling nervous. "What radiation?"

  Scylla laughed at Mackenzie's obvious fear. "Don't worry, there's no radiation now. You won't suddenly grow another head. No, it was the generation before mine that had to deal with radiation. On the Panspermia."

  "Wait, that can't be right," Mackenzie interrupted, shaking her head. "We learned about the evacuation in school. My grandfather evacuated the ship before the radiation could spread."

  "Wrong," Scylla said simply. "You've been lied to, I'm afraid. See, the radiation was leaking through the ship long before Captain Miller was able to order an evacuation. Those people who were closest to the leaks were quickly exposed and contaminated. I'm sure I don't have to tell you what effects radiation can have on the human body. But what you might not know so well is what happens to the human foetus should it become exposed to radiation while in the womb."

  "But..." Mackenzie began to argue, still convinced that Captain Miller had gotten everyone off the ship before radiation could spread too far, but Scylla silenced her with a raised hand.

  "Those of us who were conceived at the time," Scylla went on, lowering her hand, "suffered. Some were born with physical abnormalities, others with congenital defects to their organs, some with cognitive difficulties. The radiation prevented proper development in the womb, so life has been difficult for many of us. Even now, the following generations fall victim to the devastation radiation can cause. Just look at Vasilii. He clearly wasn't conceived almost fifty years ago, but he suffers from as many prenatal development problems as any other. The radiation carries through our genes, laying waste to every generation. All because your grandfather wrote off my parents' generation as expendable."

  "That's not true!" Mackenzie cried angrily, scowling sideways at Scylla. "My grandfather saved thousands of people! Kept the human race alive by sacrificing himself! He never would have just left people to die!"

  "Your view of your grandfather is skewed by the bias of your education," Scylla replied calmly. "The truth of the matter is that he ejected thousands of people from the Panspermia because he had acted too slowly to save them and allowed them to become contaminated by radiation. Then, as if that wasn't bad enough, he separated them from the healthy survivors on a planet that seems designed to kill humans. Between the radiation poisoning, the environment and the wildlife, it's nothing short of a miracle that enough of us survived to establish our community."

  "My grandfather wouldn't have just abandoned people!" Mackenzie still argued.

  "Did you know him?" Scylla
asked simply. "Were you close?"

  "Of course not," Mackenzie snapped. "He died before I was born, died saving people!"

  "If you never knew him, you cannot be certain of the type of person he was," Scylla pointed out. "You may dismiss the facts if you wish, but that doesn't change what happened. How else can you explain my people out here, far from your own? Living inside of a Panspermia evac shuttle, no less. The evidence is right in front of you. You are just too stubborn to accept it."

  Mackenzie scowled at Scylla, scarcely able to believe she was saying such slanderous things against the man who was the very reason they were all alive. Then again, what if it was true? What if Captain Miller had abandoned them, leaving them all to die long, painful, deaths as a result of radiation exposure?

  Mackenzie was silent for the remainder of the flight, which seemed to take roughly an hour or so. Mackenzie was aware that throughout the journey, Vasilii never once took his eyes off of her. He had a way of not blinking as much as one should, and he always had a tiny smile on his face, as though amused by some private joke. Mackenzie pretended Vasilii's stare didn't bother her, but she was increasingly uncomfortable by the minute and silently wished Vasilii would look away. But he never did.

  "We're coming in for landing now, Scylla," Min-Hee shouted from the cockpit.

  "Excellent," Scylla smiled, nudging Mackenzie with her elbow. "I think you'll be interested in what I'm about to show you."

  "I'd be more interested to know just what the hell you want me to do out here," Mackenzie frowned. "You still haven't told me what you want my help with."

  "You'll see soon enough," Scylla leered.

  The VTOL set down gently only jolting Mackenzie in her seat a little, then the engines began to power down. Scylla began to unclasp her belt and everyone else followed suit.

  Once the door opened, Scylla was the first to descend the stairs. Boroslav shoved Mackenzie toward the stairs next.

  "Hey!" Mackenzie snapped, finally losing her temper and turning furiously on Boroslav, curling her fingers into fists. "Quit shoving me!"

  "Then get out," Boroslav sneered.

  "It must be so tiring," Mackenzie began, her tone oozing with sarcasm, "to exhaust your entire vocabulary in just one sentence."

  Boroslav snarled viciously, then raised his hand as though to strike Mackenzie, but stopped when Vasilii began to laugh. Both Mackenzie and Boroslav stared at Vasilii in surprise as the boy clutched his stomach and doubled over, his eyes squeezed tightly shut as a high pitched shriek of laughter escaped him.

  "She's funny, Mikhail!" Vasilii said, pointing at Mackenzie. "I like her!"

  Boroslav scowled at Mackenzie, but slowly lowered his hand. Mackenzie felt a moment of gratitude for Vasilii, but still felt put off by his strange liking towards her. While it seemed childlike, there was something else to it. Something more disturbing. Mackenzie ignored the thought for the moment and turned away to climb down the VTOL steps.

  Once Mackenzie was out in the sunlight, she squinted as the harsh brightness hurt her eyes. She shielded her face with her hand and looked around, trying to figure out where they were, but couldn't see through the glare, her eyes having not yet adjusted.

  "Are you impressed?" she heard Scylla shout from somewhere.

  Finally, Mackenzie's eyes adjusted and she was able to see her surroundings. Looking up, Mackenzie's jaw dropped and her eyes widened in horror at what she saw.

  "Oh my God," she whispered. Now I know where the people in the town went.

  There were people, thousands upon thousands of people. Many were carrying heavy objects in bags on their backs as they walked in single file lines, dragging their feet through the sand, their backs hunched and their expressions full of pain and misery. Others were digging in the sand and loading that sand into bags to be carried away. The people were all skeleton thin, their clothes far too big to fit them properly. Mackenzie saw men, women, even children, all moving like zombies, more dead than alive, vacant eyes sunken into their skulls, their filthy hands working at whatever task they were carrying out. None paid Mackenzie any attention, no one even glanced towards the VTOL. They were all focused on the enormous iron behemoth that was sticking out of the sand.

  It was white and gray, but discolored over time by the harsh weather. It was enormously long, the end farthest from where Mackenzie stood being hundreds of yards away, with people digging around it everywhere. The giant machine looked broken, some sections having been completely broken away from the rest, like a pencil that had been snapped in several places. Mackenzie could see more people moving about inside through the broken walls, saw sparks flying as they welded objects within while still more people carried large items of steel or machinery out into the desert.

  What Mackenzie also did not fail to notice was the immense number of soldiers around. They walked among the workers with their guns at the ready, shouting at anyone who wasn't moving fast enough or paused to wipe the sweat from their brow. Mackenzie saw one soldier kick at a small boy who was struggling under the weight of a bag almost twice his size.

  And parked all around, sometimes driving alongside the marching lines of pitiful creatures, were large and strange-looking trucks. The vehicles appeared to be armored, shielding those within from sight and harm, but there was a man seated at a large turret on top of each vehicle. These men wore headgear that covered their ears, as though they were going to soon work with loud equipment.

  The gun that each man sat poised at was roughly six feet long and seemed to be able to swivel easily 360 degrees. Mackenzie hated to think about what kind of damage a gun that size could do.

  Mackenzie turned her gaze slowly back towards the enormous wreck that everyone was working around. The sun peeked just over the top of the vessel, casting a bright glow around the steel, as though the craft was somehow holy. The sheer size of it was impossible to believe, even seeing it with her own eyes. There was only one thing a vessel that size could be.

  "Are you surprised?" Scylla laughed as Mackenzie stood frozen just a few steps from the ground. "It's the Panspermia! Or what's left of her. This is the front section of the ship, broken away from the rest when it crashed here. The bridge is here on this end and you can see far down there where the ship broke like a twig as it crashed."

  The Panspermia? Mackenzie thought in surprise, but that was the least of her concerns. She turned her attention to Scylla, fury returning to her face.

  "What the hell is wrong with you!?" Mackenzie bellowed, causing Scylla's grin to falter slightly. "What are you doing to these people?"

  "Every task requires workers," Scylla replied icily. "These are my people, and they are helping us achieve our goal."

  "They're your slaves!" Mackenzie roared, gesturing wildly at the people.

  "They are my people," Scylla insisted. "But yes, as long as I require them here, they are also my tools. They will do as they are told, for the benefit of us all."

  "This is disgusting!" Mackenzie raged. "I won't help someone who would do this to people! Put me back in my cell, kill me, whatever, but I refuse to help you! You're just another monster!"

  Scylla glared at Mackenzie silently, her eyes having turned cold and steely. The polite smile was gone from her face and her mouth had become a thin line as her lips were pressed tightly together. Mackenzie glared back at her, refusing to back down. The sight of such atrocity made Mackenzie feel physically sick and she longed to take all these people, load them up on the VTOL and fly them away to freedom.

  "You refuse to help?" Scylla asked, her voice quiet and poisonous.

  "That's right," Mackenzie said defiantly.

  Scylla was silent for a moment longer, regarding Mackenzie with cold fury, before she said, "Then our agreement is broken. There is no longer a reason for me to keep your friends alive."

  "What?" Mackenzie asked, feeling a cold fear grip her chest.

  "A part of our arrangement was that after you help me, you and your friends will go free, un
harmed," Scylla pointed out, the small smile beginning to return to her lips, though her eyes were still narrowed. "If you refuse to help, then I suppose there is nothing to prevent me from slowly flaying the skin from their bodies and leaving them to cook in the sun."

  Mackenzie stared back in horror at Scylla. In her anger, Mackenzie had forgotten that Abbas, Jesse and Bell were all still being held captive. Her every move delicately held their lives in the balance, and she may have just misstepped.

  "Of course," Scylla added thoughtfully, her small smile becoming a shrewd grin, "if you change your mind and apologize for your outburst, I might be persuaded to allow our agreement to go on. What do you say, Mackenzie?"

  Mackenzie looked towards the thousands of slaves being slowly worked to death as they did God-only-knew-what to the wreck of the Panspermia. As much as Mackenzie wanted to help them, no matter how hard she wished she could stop this, she knew she had to play along with Scylla's game, at least for now.

  "Fine," Mackenzie snapped, sighing angrily in defeat.

  "Is that it?" Scylla asked quietly. "I thought I asked for an apology?"

  Grinding her teeth as she held back an angry retort, Mackenzie growled, "I'm sorry."

  "There," Scylla grinned. "All better. Our deal can continue. But Mackenzie..." Scylla's grin faded and she slowly approached Mackenzie to stand over her. "Remember this. Even though I am being kind to you, do not mistake that kindness for weakness. I want your help, but if you cause trouble for me or disrupt what I've been working to achieve, I will have no hesitation in cutting out your heart. But not before I make you watch your friends all suffer until they beg me for death. Understand?"

  Mackenzie looked back into Scylla's cold eyes, remembering the man with the scorched face, and slowly nodded. "Yeah. I understand."

  "Excellent," Scylla leered. "Then come with me. I'll show you what I want you to do."

  Scylla then turned to Boroslav, who had been silently watching with quiet enjoyment.

  "Mikhail," Scylla said to him. "I want you to stay out here. Have your men on alert. If Mackenzie attempts to escape, or if she exits the ship without me by her side, they may shoot her."

  Boroslav grinned and fixed his eyes on Mackenzie as he replied. "Of course, Scylla. It will be my pleasure."

  Scylla turned away and grinned at Mackenzie, as though daring her to say something. Mackenzie remained silent, however. Scylla began to walk towards the wreckage, jerking her head at Mackenzie, indicating that she follow her. After a moment of hesitation, glaring in loathing at Scylla's back, Mackenzie followed.

  They walked through the slaves that were working around the ship, who passed by Mackenzie as though she was a ghost. None of them looked her in the eye, none of them glanced in her direction; they all simply continued their work, looking defeated and worn down, like all the hope had been drained out of them. Scylla walked with a calm indifference, not bothered at all by the inhumanity of her surroundings, but Mackenzie felt conflicted. As much as she wanted to help these people, she knew she could do nothing. If she backed out of the deal, Scylla would undoubtedly kill her.

  Mackenzie turned her head towards the sound of sudden shouting. Still following behind Scylla, but slowing down to watch what was happening, Mackenzie felt cold with dread when she saw a woman had fallen, too weak to continue carrying the bag on her back. When the woman fell, the contents of the bag had spilled out over the ground and Mackenzie could see numerous wires and circuit boards, which must have been retrieved from the Panspermia.

  The yelling was coming from one of the soldiers overseeing the work. He was screaming at the fallen woman, kicking her on the ground, ordering her back to her feet, but she was too weak to do so. She didn't even have the energy to try and shield herself from further harm, only managing to flail her hands feebly at the man as he kicked her.

  "Mackenzie," Scylla said in Mackenzie's ear. Mackenzie realized that she had stopped walking without knowing, just to watch the brutality of the moment. Scylla looped her arm through Mackenzie's elbow and began to lead her away, back towards the Panspermia wreck. "You are too easily distracted. Hopefully you can focus better once you start this work."

  "That woman needs help," Mackenzie said. "Water, food, a rest... she doesn't deserve to be treated like that."

  "Discipline is what keeps us alive," Scylla said, smiling at Mackenzie as they walked arm in arm. "My people must all work together to survive. If one is weak, then we are all weakened. Ignore them for now, Mackenzie. It's time I told you what you are here for."

  Mackenzie suddenly felt cold as they passed into the shadow of the wreck. It towered high above, like a skyscraper that had toppled onto its side. Scylla was leading her into an opening in the hull of the ship, where the walls had been torn away in the crash. The steel was bent and twisted, ripped apart like paper. Mackenzie walked through the opening with Scylla and found herself in an alien world.