Isolation, p.1
Isolation, page 1
part #7 of Remnants Series
ISOLATION
REMNANTS #7
K.A. Applegate
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
CHAPTER 1
"WE ARE ON THE PATH."
Yago was glad to be alive. Glad to look out over the coppery ocean glittering on his left. Glad to scan the forest of slender, pliant trees on his right for enemies.
He had many enemies. Riders. Blue Meanies. Squids. And the other group of human Remnants; the freaks and their protectors. But so what? The important thing was that he was still alive.
Alive when he should have been dead.
He'd been hooked up to Mother, the highly advanced computer that ran this spaceship. Mother had absorbed the contents of his brain — every memory, fear, secret, and hope — in a heartbeat. Then she'd made him face darkterrors, including his own death in a terrible, desperate battle. The horror of it should have killed him or made him go nuts. But he was still alive, still sane. There could be only one explanation. He was the One.
Anyone could see it with one quick glance. Yago was tall and powerfully built. His hair was a lovely leaf green. His eyes were a distinct reflective golden color derived from cat DNA. His teeth were straight and perfectly white. His skin, a glowing bronze. In short, Yago was beautiful. Whole. Pure. The One.
Everything made sense now. The asteroid that destroyed Earth five hundred years earlier wasn't a result of random chance or cosmic bad luck or Mother Nature run amok. The asteroid was part of a plan to set humanity on a new path, the path of purity. Purity.
The word burned in Yago's brain. He loved it, felt he had always loved it. He repeated it to himself with every step he took behind Tamara and the Baby Purity. Purity. Purity.
Seven billion people had lived on Earth in 2011, the Year of Impact. Of those billions, only eighty were lucky enough to board the Mayflower, a space shuttle fitted out with experimental solar sails and experimental hibernation equipment.
Nobody had expected the Mayflower Project to succeed. The antique shuttle had no destination, no goal. NASA scientists had merely fired it into space and hoped it would arrive somewhere safe and in one piece.
Many of the original Eighty died on the voyage. Some molded and turned to "cheese." Carnivorous worms ate others. Some slowly dried out until they resembled mummies. And the rest had tiny holes drilled into them by micrometeorites.
The Mayflower had not landed on a planet, as some optimists had hoped, but on a vast and advanced ship. Those who survived the journey woke to find themselves in a strange environment based on the work of artists long dead and best forgotten. Why? Yago didn't know and he really didn't care.
He did know the environments were often deadly and that they were made deadlier by three alien species that seemed determined to take control of Mother.
Some of the Wakers had died since they landed. Riders wiped out Errol. Wylson LefkowitzBlake drowned. Blue Meanie fléchette gunfire shredded Shy Hwang. And there were others among the dead: Big Bill, Alberto, and the doctor.
Just nineteen people survived. A ridiculous, laughably small subset of humanity.
And among those remaining nineteen, distinctions could be drawn. Should be drawn. At least according to Yago. Not all of them were chosen. Not all of them were pure enough to follow the path.
Some were freaks. 2Face, with her burned flesh. Edward, a human chameleon. Violet Blake, who had lost a finger to the worms. Billy Weir, with his unnatural telepathic abilities. Kubrick, who Mother had skinned in a botched attempt to make him look more like her creators.
The freaks' protectors — Mo'Steel and Jobs — also could not be saved. Yago knew the truth. Those who sought to protect the freaks were as bad as the freaks themselves. They were not chosen.
And then there were Tamara and the Baby. They were evil, a powerful evil that existed to test Yago's worthiness as the One. Yago was not afraid of them. He would turn them to his own uses. He would allow Tamara to take out as many of the Riders and Squids and Blue Meanies and freaks as possible. Every enemy she killed would bring him closer to controlling the ship. Once he controlled the ship, he would lead his followers in building a paradise. Yago's gaze fell on D-Caf and Anamull, walking a few steps ahead of him. He smiled.
Anamull was a big kid. He was quiet, withdrawn, blank. Yago thought of him as a follower, a soldier.
D-Caf was more complicated. He was a toady in training. A twitch hiding behind his stooped posture and idiotic jokes. But Yago saw something in his eyes. A quiet watchfulness. Yago was certain D-Caf wasn't as stupid as he seemed.
Yago jogged up and fell into step with the other guys, ready to begin enlightening them. "We are on the path," he announced.
Anamull sent him a guarded glance. "You know where we're going? Because I'm getting a little tired of following after Tamara and her, um, Baby."
"Forget about Tamara," Yago said impatiently. "She is only my tool. I'm telling you that soon our enemies will fall and the One will rule. We are on the path."
D-Caf smiled uncertainly. "The One?" he asked.
"All those who are pure are chosen," Yago said.
Anamull and D-Caf stared back at him with expressions of complete confusion. Yago felt like reaching out and slapping the ignorant looks off their faces. Patience, he told himself. It had taken him fifteen years, or five hundred and fifteen years, to see the path. Simple soldiers must be given time to understand. "Hey, everyone! Look!"
The kid. Roger Dodger. He was yelling and pointing at the sky. Tamara stopped. The rest of the group stopped behind her The Baby turned its empty eye sockets toward the sky as if it could actually see.
Two Squids were flying by, passing in the opposite direction from the way the Remnants were marching. They passed high overhead, bodies thrust forward, tentacle arms waving. Yago waited patiently. Let Tamara figure out what the Squids were up to. Let her decimate them all. That was what he was waiting for. All he needed was time.
All he needed was patience. They were on the path.
CHAPTER 2
"WHERE ARE WE GOING, ANYWAY?"
Jobs had never been a nature lover, and he hated this marsh. He hated having wet feet. He hated climbing up and down the endless rolling hills.
He kept flashing on the old war movies his grandfather used to watch late at night: bad guys concealed under the water, land mines exploding, good guys bleeding and dying.
"Cheer up. Duck!" Mo'Steel said, putting an arm around Jobs's shoulder. "Things could be worse."
Jobs nodded without smiling. Things had been worse. Recently and often. At least there was no sign of the Riders. At least he knew his little brother, Edward, was safe. He was just a few yards ahead, walking with 2Face and Kubrick. Jobs tried not to focus on how his little brother's skin was becoming the same color as the warm copper-colored water they were wading through.
"I just don't see the point of sloshing around in this swamp," Jobs said. "Where are we going, anyway?"
"We're following 2Face," Mo'Steel said.
"Well, at least we know she's happy," Jobs said petulantly. For some reason he couldn't understand, 2Face was determined to be in charge. Had been ever since they woke up on the shuttle. She'd forced them to choose between following Tamara and the Baby and following her.
Jobs knew 2Face was right to fear the Baby. The Baby creeped him out, too. Creeped everyone out. But he thought the Remnants had enough problems without breaking into factions. And he couldn't really blame the people who had decided to follow Tamara. Tamara had promised them the Baby would turn the ship into a re-creation of good old Earth. Wanting to go home again was only natural, only human. If Jobs had believed Tamara could deliver on her promise, he would have joined her himself. But he knew that what she was offering was impossible.
"Would you prefer if someone else was in charge?" Noyze asked quietly.
Noyze and Dr Cohen had only just joined the other Remnants. While Jobs, Mo'Steel, and the others had been dealing with the Tower of Babel and fighting the British from the U.S.S. Constitution, they'd been prisoners of the Blue Meanies. Jobs realized Noyze and Dr. Cohen were still getting to know their new companions, still trying to figure out who to trust. Even now, Dr. Cohen was walking with Mo'Steel's mother and asking her a thousand questions. They were so intent on their conversation that they kept falling behind. Not exactly safe under the circumstances.
"No," Jobs said. "I mean, I don't know. I just wish we were heading somewhere instead of splashing around."
"Where do you want to go?" Violet Blake asked.
"To the bridge," Jobs said.
Finding the bridge was the key to controlling the ship, the key to their survival. And Jobs had an almost physical need to see the machine that had created the strange environments they'd endured. He needed to understand it.
"We go to the bridge and we'll probably get involved in a big shootout." Mo'Steel didn't sound afraid and Jobs knew he wasn't. Mo liked action, ev en action of the most desperate and dangerous sort.
"The surviving Blue Meanies will probably head there," Noyze said. "Tamara, too," Mo'Steel said.
"Maybe we should double back and follow Tamara," Violet suggested. "If we're lucky, she'll lead us to the bridge."
"Tamara is not heading toward the bridge," Billy said, speaking for the first time. He'd been there all along, of course, trudging silently between Violet and Mo'Steel. Still, Jobs was surprised whenever he heard his voice. Billy had been silent and catatonic for so long that hearing him speak was a little like being addressed by a park bench.
"How do you know?" Noyze tended to treat Billy like just another kid. Jobs had told her that Billy had some strange abilities, but she hadn't been around long enough to witness them. "I can ... sense ... her mind," Billy tried to explain.
Jobs was impatient to hear more. "So where is she going?" he asked eagerly.
"I don't know," Billy said. "I can't really get a hold of her thoughts. There are lots of colors. I see determination, anger."
"Her determination or the Baby's?" Violet asked.
"I don't know," Billy said. "It's impossible for me to separate the two."
Violet shuddered. "I wonder if Tamara is the Baby's partner or its slave?"
"Slave," Mo'Steel said with conviction. "I don't know about the rest of you, but the Baby gives me the allover creepy crawlies. If we let it take control of the ship, I predict something very, very nasty is going to happen."
"How can we stop it?" Noyze asked.
"Take control ourselves," Mo'Steel said.
Noyze laughed, but quickly caught herself when she realized Mo'Steel and the others were serious. "Could we really do that?"
"It's a long shot," Jobs said thoughtfully. "But Mother seems weaker after her encounter with Alberto. Now may be our best chance."
"Squids!" Edward yelled.
"Take cover!" 2Face ordered.
Jobs crouched down, hiding himself as well as he could in the tall grass. His skin was clammy, heart racing. The Squids — about a dozen of them — were flying overhead. Jobs cautiously looked up, his heart in his throat. The Squids seemed to be flying randomly. Circling, as if they were searching for something. Then—
A few of the Squids rocketed down toward the surface. Ahead of him! The Squids were going to land ahead of him. They were going to get Edward! No!
Jobs was on his feet, running, sliding on the silty mud and slippery grass. He reached Edward. Tackled him from behind. Covered him with his own body.
"Hey — quit it!" Edward yelled, outraged. "What are you doing? Let me go!"
By then. Jobs had seen his mistake. The Squids weren't attacking Edward. They were coming down farther, just ahead of them.
Mo'Steel ran past, keeping his footing with no trouble, charging up the hill. Jobs released Edward and followed. He was wet, out of breath, and scared by the time he reached Mo'Steel at the top of the hill.
And on top of the very next hill was a Blue Meanie.
The Squids had landed near it, but the Blue Meanie wasn't paying much attention to them. Jobs got the impression it was intent on whatever it was doing.
Blue Meanies went everywhere, wearing space suits that doubled as body armor Their bodies were roughly pony-shaped and pony-sized. They had four legs tapering down and ending without apparent feet and eyes on either side of a low-slung head.
But there the similarity to any Earth creature ended. Two serpentine tentacles moved on each side of this Blue Meanie's head. Jobs had seen the Blue Meanies use their tentacles to communicate, but this one seemed to have them attached to something under the grass. While the Remnants watched, it pulled out a piece of metal.
"What's it doing?" Jobs asked.
"Don't know," Mo'Steel said. "Hull repairs?"
"We better go around it," Jobs said. He turned to face the others, who were still trudging up the hill.
"Whoa!" Mo'Steel yelled.
Jobs spun in time to see two of the Squids' blasting matter jets hit the Blue Meanie in the chest. The Meanie exploded in a blaze of red light.
The others came at a run. "What just happened?" 2Face asked. "The Squids wasted a Blue Meanie," Mo'Steel said.
"Strange," Jobs said. "When we saw the Squids and Meanies fighting over the statue, the Squids seemed totally outgunned. This time, they destroyed the Meanie with one shot."
"They are in active mode," Billy said.
"Meaning what, exactly?" Olga asked.
"The Squids are Mother's security system," Billy explained. "She programmed them to attack anyone who tries to harm her when she is defenseless. Their job is to keep her safe while she rebuilds."
"Programmed them?" Violet asked. "Aren't they alive?"
"No," Billy said. "They're automatons."
"Living machines," Jobs said.
"That's pretty horrible," Violet said, her pretty features filled with disgust.
Jobs didn't think it was horrible. The concept of biological machines had always fascinated him. Scientists on Earth hadn't advanced the field beyond the most preliminary of experiments — and even that had raised the ire of moralists and the United States Congress.
Jobs suddenly found himself much more interested in the Squids. Still, he had to admit, the challenge of controlling the ship had just gotten much harder If the Squids could take out a Blue Meanie, humans would definitely be easy picking.
CHAPTER 3
"YOU WILL WAIT."
Tamara didn't waste a minute.
As soon as 2Face made her little speech and the Remnants chose sides, Tamara had simply headed off without a word of explanation. She left the others to follow as best they could.
Tate tried to keep up with Tamara.
Easier said than done.
Within five minutes, Tate was sweating. Ten more minutes, and her lungs and thighs were burning. Before half an hour had passed, she longed to plop down on the strange beach and take a nap. But Tamara never slowed, never rested. She carried her hideous, overgrown Baby effortlessly on one slim hip and just kept moving.
Matching her pace was exhausting, but nobody complained. Nobody even spoke. They were afraid. Tate could feel the tension in the air, could see it in the way the others kept their eyes down and their questions to themselves.
The air was damp. Humid as a Florida swamp on an August evening. Their footsteps kicked up something friable like black peat moss that covered the shore of the copper-colored sea. The dust clung to Tate's sticky legs, worked its way into her shoes, made her skin itch. Still, she refused to fall behind.
Tate had wanted to join 2Face, Olga, Jobs, and Mo'Steel. She would have even put up with that insipid superfemme, Violet Blake. 2Face's group was more tolerant. More moral, as silly as that sounded, Tamara's group couldn't have been more different Yago was a bigot. Prejudiced against everyone except his own silver-spoon-sucking self. Tate had never liked him or his kiss-my-feet attitude, but he'd been quieter since he'd connected with Mother. At first, Tate had thought he was embarrassed after having Mother parade all of his petty little fantasies in front of everyone.
But no. Something about Yago's eyes was very wrong. Something about the strange, beatific smile he wore as he trudged along. He was planning something. Something disturbing.
