Post-Human Trilogy

that I don’t trust. We’ve neutralized that generator you’ve got in your spine so that we can get you home without any interference from the rider you’ve got. When we get you back, we can get to work getting that thing safely out of you. No hard feelings, right?”

Craig looked up from his doubled over position and nodded. “I suppose it’s…understandable.”

“Good man. Okay. Correct me if I am wrong, but it’s my understanding that you’re scheduled to be in this particular universe for ten hours. Yes?”

“That’s accurate.” Craig groaned as he struggled to right himself in his seat.

“And how long have you been here so far?”

“Nearly two hours,” Craig replied.

Paine nodded. “And this ship takes about two hours to sink, am I right?”

“In our universe, yes, but—”

“And how long ago was the collision with the iceberg?”

“About twenty minutes ago,” Craig replied, “but the ship’s not sinking.”

Paine’s eyebrows knitted above his computerized eyes. “What?”

“The Titanic isn’t sinking. It rammed the iceberg head on. The collision damaged the hull but didn’t breach it. We’re safe. Everyone is safe.”

Paine stood to his feet, suddenly alarmed. “Are you telling me that even after all that damage, this ship isn’t going down?”

“Affirmative, sir,” Craig replied, smiling. “I pushed the ship straight on into the iceberg. The A.I. said that was the best way to keep the ship from foundering.”

“The A.I.,” Paine replied with a sneer. “Of course. Of course it would say that.” The colonel paced away from the trio of men and left them sitting in their chairs for a few moments as he mulled over his next move. His cybernetic hand stroked his chin as he worked his way through the scenario, moving toward the correct strategic decision. Finally, he turned to the men and announced, “Men, we have to sink this ship.”

“What?” Craig reacted, astounded. “Why?”

“Doc,” Paine began with a sigh, “I respect you. I respect the hell outta you. You always put the lives of others before your own. I wish more soldiers had your qualities.”

“90 percent chance that he’s being honest,” the A.I. noted.

“However, this is one of those extremely rare instances when saving the lives of thousands of innocent people comes at the cost of putting the lives of innumerable other people at risk.”

“Sir, with all due respect—”

“Think about the consequences of your actions,” Paine said, cutting Craig off. “You’ve altered the natural history of this timeline.”

“Natural?”

“Not only are you keeping the 1,500 people who are supposed to die tonight alive, causing a cascading effect that can’t be measured, but you’ve also managed to make your presence known to everyone on this damn ship. I even saw a kid on the deck with a damn camera. Do you realize that if this ship makes it into port, our picture is going to be on the cover of every major newspaper in the world?”

“And that’s a bad thing?”

“Doc!” Paine suddenly shouted. “We’ve exposed these people to technology a century and a half ahead of where they currently are. You even left your jacket in this room while you were off playing superhero. What if someone had taken it while you were gone and examined the tech? What if they succeed in reengineering it? I mean, for Christ’s sake, son, for a soldier who’s supposed to be trained in covert insertions, you’ve been clumsy as all hell. And don’t think I didn’t notice that handcuff you’ve got around your wrist. You’ve been into all kinds of trouble already.”

“None of this means that people should die,” Craig continued to protest. “Just so we can protect the ‘natural history’ of this timeline, whatever that means!”

“Jesus,” Paine grunted in frustration as he pulled out his neutralizer and fired at Craig’s midsection. Craig groaned and doubled over once again. “Doc, they’ve got pictures of the Planck platform. They saw us appear out of nowhere. What if they use those pictures to develop Planck technology? What if they use it to interfere in other universes, just as you have? How would you feel knowing that you’d spread that can of worms throughout the multiverse? Knowing that, because of you, people from another universe could enter ours and manipulate it for their own ends?”

“It’s all what-ifs!” Craig suddenly yelled, exasperated as he struggled to stand. “All of it! You’re willing to kill over 2,000 people because you’re afraid bad things might happen if you don’t?”

Paine stood straight, his mouth slightly open as his golden eyes burned into Craig. “I’m not going to hold this against you, Doc,” he said in a low voice, trying to remain calm and affect an understanding tone. “You’re understandably confused right now. For all I know, the A.I. might be manipulating your thinking.”

“The A.I. has nothing to do with it. This is all me, Colonel. You can’t kill these people. It would be… monstrous!”

“Monstrous?” Paine suddenly lost his cool and strode toward Craig, clutching the front of his shirt with his powerful prosthetic arm and lifting him, jamming Craig’s back against the hot mahogany above the mantel of the fireplace. “No, Doc, let me tell you about monstrous. Monstrous is creating a species that could wipe out humanity! Monstrous is interfering with the timeline of another universe! Monstrous is unilaterally deciding that you have the right to play God! Well, Doc, there’s only one true God, and He planned for this ship to go down. Who the hell are you or I to decide different?” Paine released Craig and let him slide down to the ground, where he stumbled to his knees in front of the fire. “So what’s it going to be, Doc? Are you with us or against us? Am I going to have a problem with you?”

Craig clutched his chest where the sharp claws of Paine’s fingers had scratched his skin raw. He clenched his teeth and seethed in reply, “If your plan is to sink this ship and let these people die, drowning, being trampled, or freezing to death in the middle of the ocean—men, women, children, babies—then yeah, you’re going to have a problem with me.”

Paine’s face remained frozen for a moment before he finally turned to Drummey. “From this moment on, treat the doc here like a hostile prisoner. If he resists or tries to escape, you have permission to shoot him with your rifle, but no kill shots, understand? We need him alive so we can extract the A.I.”

“Yes, sir,” Drummey replied. He bent down and used the cuffs that were already around Craig’s left wrist, closing the second bracelet over his right wrist to secure his prisoner.

“Degrechie,” Paine said to the other soldier, “it’s up to us to sink this tin can. We’ve gotta get below decks and blow a big enough hole in the bottom of the Titanic to make sure nobody onboard lives to tell this tale.”

28

“Craig, your life is in serious danger,” the A.I. warned as Craig was dragged by the scruff of his neck toward the Purists’ Planck platform.

Even at six-five, without his MTF generator functioning, Craig was helpless against the strength of the super soldier prosthetics. Drummey manhandled Craig as though the post-human were nothing but a small child, pulling him with ease down the steps toward the front deck of the Titanic.

Ismay spotted the bizarre spectacle and shouted down to Drummey from the bridge, “You there! Who are you, and where are you taking that criminal? What right do you have to be here?”

Drummey didn’t even have to turn his head. Instead, using the intelligent system in his rifle and his aug glasses, he uttered, “Kill shot,” thereby setting the rifle to use the most devastatingly frangible bullet it had. His left arm moved automatically, guided by the computer system, and it immediately locked the rifle on Ismay’s face. A fraction of a second later, the gun blasted forth a hollow-point projectile that hit its target squarely in the nose, sinking into Ismay’s face and fragmenting, nearly liquefying the inside of the man’s skull without even causing an exit wound.