DEAD SPACE MARTYR Epilogue 2

 


2

When he woke up, he was still strapped down to a bed. He

was alone in a small room, something very like a cell. He

struggled against the straps, but they were firm.

He slept, he woke, he slept again. Occasionally a nurse

would come in and change the bag of fluids hanging beside

him. His head throbbed. Once when the nurse came, she

took out a small pocket mirror and held it so he could see

himself.

His head was wrapped in bandages. He hardly

recognized his own face.

“There, see,” said the nurse, and gestured to the top of

his head. “That’s where you had your accident.”

“Accident?” he said.

“Yes,” she said. “Where you slipped and fell.”

“It wasn’t an accident,” he said.

She smiled. “After head trauma, sometimes things can

get confused,” she said.

“No,” he said. “I know exactly what happened.”

Her smile looked painted on, fake. “I’m not supposed to

talk to you,” she said. “Those are the rules.” She backed

slowly out the door.

A few minutes later, the door opened and a man with a

hypodermic entered.

When he woke up again, he was in a different place, a

place that didn’t just look like a cell, but was one. The

bandages were no longer on his head, though a lump and a

healing wound were still there. They had unstrapped him,

had left him lying on the floor. He got unsteadily to his feet,

his muscles weak from disuse.

The room was white, without mark or other design. There

was one door, small, in the middle of one wall. High above

him and out of reach was a vid recorder. A small toilet in

the corner, a food dispenser just beside it.

He went to the door and pounded on it. “Hello!” he called.

“Hello!” Then he pressed his ear to the door. He heard

nothing.

He waited, tried again. Nothing happened. And then

again. Still nothing.

Hours went by, then days. The only noise that did not

come from himself was the clunk when food came down the

slot. There was no way for him to control when it came, no

button to push. Suddenly there was a clunk and the food

was there. He saved the containers and they slowly filled

one side of the room.

He felt like he was the last man on earth. He felt like he

was going mad.

He withdrew deeper and deeper into himself, paid less

and less attention to the outside world.

Then the dead started to return, one by one, to keep him

company. All the people whose deaths he felt responsible

for, sitting around him, judging him. There was Ada and

Field, Hendricks and Hammond, and others he couldn’t

recognize. It was just him, and his guilt, and the dead.

And then he awoke to find that he was no longer in that

room, that instead he was sitting in a chair at a large table.

His hands were cuffed to the arms of the chair. Across from

him, on the other side of the table, were Markoff and

Stevens.

“Hello, Altman,” said Markoff.

He didn’t answer at first. It was strange to be in a room

with living people, almost unbearable. He couldn’t believe it

was really happening.

“Altman,” said Stevens. He snapped his fingers. “Here,

Altman. Focus.”

“You’re not here,” said Altman. “I’m hallucinating you.”

“No,” said Stevens. “We’re here. Even if we’re not, what

will it hurt you to talk to us?”

He’s right, said Altman. What will it hurt? And then he

remembered Hennessy, dead from listening to a

hallucination; Hendricks, dead from listening to a

hallucination; Ada, dead from listening to a hallucination.

On and on and on. His eyes filled with tears.

“What’s wrong with him?” Markoff asked.

“We broke him,” said Stevens. “I told you it was too long.

We’re real, Altman. What do we have to do to prove that

we’re real?”

“You can’t prove it,” said Altman.

“Do something, Stevens,” said Markoff. “He’s not any fun

like this.”

Stevens darted forward, slapped him hard, then again.

Altman reached up and touched his cheek.

“Did you feel that?” asked Stevens, his voice gently

mocking.

Had he felt it or had he only imagined feeling it? He didn’t

know. But he had to make a choice: either speak to them or

ignore them.

He hesitated for so long that Stevens, or the Stevens

hallucination, slapped him again. “Well?” he said.

“Yes,” said Altman. “Maybe you’re real.”

And as he said it, it was almost as if they became more

real. But if he had insisted they were hallucinations, would

the reverse have happened? Would they have merely faded

away?

“That’s better,” said Markoff, his eyes starting to gleam.

“Where’s Krax?” he asked.

Markoff waved the question away. “Krax made the

mistake of becoming expendable. What we’re here to talk

about, Altman, is you.”

“What about me?”

“We had to figure out what to do with you,” said Stevens.

“You’ve caused a lot of trouble.”

“That stunt you pulled in Washington,” said Markoff. “That

was in very bad taste. I wanted to kill you for that.”

“Why didn’t you?”

Markoff glanced briefly at Stevens. “Cooler heads

prevailed,” he said. “As it turned out, they were wrong.”

“I’m the first to admit it,” said Stevens.

“You were no better once you came back,” said Markoff.

“You meddled with experiments, caused a tremendous

amount of property damage, did everything you could to get

in the way. Once the setback occurred on the floating

compound, I thought, Well, they’ll tear him apart and

transform him into one of them, and I’ll be at home with

my popcorn and candy, watching it on the screen. But that

didn’t work either. Instead you sank a billion-dollar research

facility.”

“We almost had you killed when we picked you and

Harmon up from the boat, but Markoff wanted your death to

be the perfect thing,” said Stevens.

“Yes,” said Markoff, “the perfect thing.”

“You’re both crazy,” said Altman.

“You’ve used that one before,” said Markoff. “You need to

come up with a better insult.”

“Would you like to hear our plans?”

“No,” said Altman. “Send me back to my cell.”

Stevens ignored him. “Once we have the secret of the

Marker worked out, once we have the new Marker

replicated, we’ll share it with the public. Until then, we’ll give

them little tastes, something to prepare them for what’s

coming.”

“That’s where you come in,” said Markoff.

Stevens nodded. “Seen in that light, you have played

right into our hands. It’s not enough for just us to believe.

Since it’s a matter of the salvation of the human species,

we need to spread the belief. What better way to do that

than to start a formal religion? That way, when the right time

comes, they’ll be ready.”

“Not everybody has to know the full extent of what’s really

going on,” said Markoff. “Indeed, it’s better if only a few of

us really know the details, only a select inner circle. It’s

always better to maintain a little mystery, initiate people

slowly, gradually. Keep the power in the right hands.”

Altman found his hands were shaking. “But I got the word

out,” he said. “I went public. People will know.”

“Yes, you did,” said Stevens. “Thank you for doing that.

The word you got out was that the government is hiding

something that the people should know about. Think about

it. We’ve looked back over all the footage, all the interviews

you did. You were conflicted enough about whether the

Marker was something to be feared or something to be

studied, and so you remained vague. We can spin your

comments any way we want. By the time we’re through with

you, not only will your little stunt not hurt us: you’ll be

considered a saint. You got the word out first, Altman—

you’re the one who started it all. Everyone will believe that

you were the one who founded the religion.”

“I’ll never go along with it,” said Altman, dread rising in

him.

Markoff laughed. “We never said we needed you to go

along with it,” he said.

“Like any prophet, you’re more useful to us dead than

alive,” said Stevens. “Once you’re dead, we can let the truth

—our truth—build up around you and you can’t do anything

about it. You’ll be larger than life. We’ll write histories of

you, holy books. We’ll erase what we don’t like about you

and make you fit what we want. Your name will be forever

associated with the Church of Unitology. You’ll come to be

known as our founder.”

“Which will allow the rest of us to stay in the background

and get things done,” said Markoff. “I must admit I find it

very satisfying to think of your name leading the movement

that you tried so hard to destroy. It almost makes all the

trouble you caused feel worthwhile.”

“You’ll never get away with this,” said Altman.

Markoff smiled, showing the tips of his teeth.

“You can’t honestly believe that,” Stevens said. “Of

course we’ll get away with it.”

“You have officially become expendable,” said Markoff.

“We’ve decided to donate your body to science. We have a

particularly vicious death planned for you.”

“You’ll find this interesting,” said Stevens. “Using a

variant of the genetic material that Guthe produced, we’ve

developed a specimen that we’d be interested in having

you meet. It was made by combining the tissue of three

human corpses with the DNA. We’ve named it after one of

the corpses. We’re calling it the Krax. The results, as I’m

sure you’ll be likely to agree, are rather surprising.”

Altman tried to lunge across the desk but succeeded only

in turning over his chair. He lay there with his face pressed

against the floor.

After a moment, Markoff and Stevens got up from their

chairs and heaved him back upright.

“Krax, by the way, was lying to you when he said he didn’t

kill your girlfriend,” said Markoff. “What was her name

again? Doesn’t matter, I suppose. He did kill her. A

generally inconsistent character. Which is why he became

expendable.”

Altman didn’t answer.

“So there’s your motivation,” said Stevens. “Revenge. Kill

the Krax, and Ada’s death will be avenged. Should make

for a good show.” He smiled. “It seems fitting, doesn’t it?

An appropriate way for you to meet your end? Who could

ask for anything more?”

“You may think we’re going to throw you in there

defenseless,” said Markoff. “If you think that, you’re wrong.

We have a weapon for you.” He reached into his pocket

and pulled out a spoon, forced it into Altman’s closed fist.

“Here you go,” he said. “Good luck.”

And then, without another word, the pair stood and left

the room.


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