Adam Christopher - The Age Atomic

Carson nodded, his smile tight. “So long as the Fissure remains within him, yes.”

“And when it isn’t?”

“When it isn’t, he’ll be dead,” said the Captain flatly, before turning to Jennifer. “That silver gun, the one I saw Mr Bradley waving around with such panache but such little effect. If my plan is to succeed, I need to repair it.” He held out his hand.

Jennifer stepped closer to him, ignoring the hand. “Kane will kill my brother.”

The Captain tutted and rubbed his forehead like a particularly exasperated teacher.

“My dear young lady, your brother’s actions have put the city at risk. I fear there is little hope for him now — although believe me, I will do my best.”

“But-”

Carson put his hand on her shoulder. “Trust me, like I trust Kane. Now, if you so please?”

Jennifer and the Captain stood face to face, eye to eye, until Jennifer sighed. “It’s in the ship.”

“Splendid,” said the Captain. “Now, the pair of you, listen. I don’t know how long it will take, but I will need you close at hand.”

Rad sighed. “How long it will take for what?”

“To the ship,” the Captain called over his shoulder as he hobbled away. “Back to the Nimrod .”

Jennifer had been pacing for minutes, walking from one side of the cabin to the other, reaching out and touching the wall as she completed each length, her golden face inclined to the floor. Rad didn’t blame her. He had no idea what was going through her mind, but the situation was tight and her brother — the brother she had been so desperately searching for — was right in the middle of it all.

Rad stood by the door, his arms folded tightly. He breathed out, trying to relax, but his body was reacting to Jennifer’s barely contained frustration.

“Any luck?”

Captain Carson mumbled, bent over the control console, Jennifer’s weapon spread out in little bits in front of him.

“What was the plan, again?” Rad asked. “Because I sure as hell don’t remember you telling us.”

Carson said something unintelligible, and with a sigh and a roll of the eyes, Rad pushed himself off the wall.

“Look-”

The Nimrod rocked, and Jennifer came to a halt. The Captain hissed as a screwdriver rolled to the edge of the console.

Rad looked at the ceiling. “Another earth tremor?”

Carson nodded. Jennifer stomped to the main door and hit the control next to it. The door whined, but remained closed. Jennifer spun around.

“James is in danger.” She advanced on Carson. “Let me out, dammit. We have to talk to him, make him see reason.”

“I’m afraid he is beyond reason,” said Carson, turning back to his work. Rad noticed he had the eye patch flipped up. “I am delighted you chose this particular weapon to steal from the Empire State Building, however. Most opportune.”

Rad looked at Jennifer. “You really think you can talk to him? Get through to him, somehow?”

“Of course,” she said. “He’s still James, whatever you and the Captain might think.”

Rad rubbed his head. “See, thing is, he was planning to turn us both into robots. He even made a start on you and now he’s done it to himself.”

“Maybe that’s the only way to survive,” she said.

“Maybe I’ll take my chances.”

“You ever thought that it’s his fault?” said Jennifer. She jerked her thumb at Carson. “He invented the things in the first place.”

Rad shook his head. “Ancient history. Meanwhile, your brother has sent the works to come get us.”

“Our friendly detective is quite right,” said Carson, face still in his delicate repair work. “James needs the Fissure to continue his work. We all need it to survive, of course. The robots will not stop until they have Kane back.” Carson leaned closer to the console, and Rad heard a sharp click. “Aha!” said the Captain, sitting back to admire his handiwork.

“That’s it,” said Jennifer. She marched to the console, brushing the Captain’s tools off as she searched for the locking mechanism. The Captain made to stop her, but she pushed him clean off the pilot’s chair. He hit the floor awkwardly, his wooden leg unable to provide enough purchase to regain his footing.

“Hey!” Rad rushed forward to help the Captain, but Jennifer pushed him back. She found the switch releasing the lock, and the cabin’s door slid open. She quickly turned and made for the exit, but Rad grabbed her arm, swinging her back around to face him. She struggled, but Rad was stronger.

“You can’t go out there,” said Rad. “At least not until the Captain fills us in on his plan.”

Jennifer screamed, and pulled at her arm. It came free from Rad’s grip but she fell to the floor. As she scrambled to her feet, Rad darted forward, but she kicked out. Rad stepped neatly to one side, avoiding her boot, and grabbed her arm again.

“Get the hell off me!”

Rad gritted his teeth and held firm, but Jennifer didn’t let up. The two struggled in the middle of the flight deck.

The Captain tutted. “Please, Mr Bradley, Ms Jones.”

Rad turned to look at the Captain and felt Jennifer yank herself away. Then all he could see was the barrel of Jennifer’s gun, now pointed right at him. He held up a hand.

“Captain, this is becoming a habit.”

“My dear friend, I really am sorry.”

“No!” Jennifer screamed, and lurched forward. Distracted, Rad tried to dive out of the way, but it was too late. Carson pulled the trigger, and the universe evaporated in a blaze of white and blue light, Jennifer’s cry still ringing in Rad’s ears.

The room was large and hot, that much Nimrod could tell with the black bag still on his head. He was bound hand and foot in a wheelchair. Underneath the cloth the sweat poured off him.

They’d drugged him again, just before the last transport, just enough to keep him quiet and still. It had been a plane this time; they’d put him in a wheelchair and he’d banged the base of his skull against the back as they rolled him up a ramp and into the heart of the beast.

Military, of course. It all was. Standard procedure for moving important and dangerous prisoners. He hadn’t expected such rough treatment, but clearly the influence of Atoms for Peace stretched very far indeed. And now they had made their move, taking over the Department, making the inconvenient Captain Nimrod disappear. A new regime was required to control New York, to control the Fissure, and what lay beyond.

There were people in the room; Nimrod could hear their breathing, then a couple of coughs, and some paper shuffling. There were footsteps too, which stopped and started and then stopped again with precision. Military police. Through the bag Nimrod could smell wood and paper and the familiar musty tang of hot venetian blinds and dust. They were in a government building, in a big room. Throw in the plane trip and Nimrod suspected he’d been shipped to Washington, DC. Which meant…

The black bag was pulled off sharply, and Nimrod blinked in the light. He squinted and turned his head, his eyes adjusting enough to see the white helmets of the military police around him, and beyond, shuttered windows leaking in pale daylight. Nimrod’s face was damp with sweat but he suspected the men seated in front of him were not at their most comfortable either.

His wheelchair was in the center of the room, in front of a large raised semicircle of dark wood. There were twelve men seated behind the curved expanse; they sat high, their faces in shadow, as they looked down at their prisoner.