There was a long silence. Finally Gunderson touched the doctor’s shoulder. “Things will look better after some sleep. There’s no reason to torture yourself day after day with this. Will you let me help you?”
Dr. Ficht looked up at him. “Sure,” she said after a long breath, “just let me go put my things in order. Why don’t you start the pre-hibernation nutrient pack for me? I’ll only be a few minutes.”
Gunderson hesitated, and Dr. Ficht offered him a weak smile.
“Yeah. Of course. See you in a few minutes.”
Dr. Ficht left the room and Gunderson wandered into the kitchen. He came back with a foil-wrapped nutrient pack and sat down at the table to prepare it. His back was to the camera. The edge of the axe appeared onscreen before Dr. Ficht did.
Warning: fatal threat to crew member. Failure to disarm will—
The message was half completed before Bezel shut off his internal alarm. The frames on the screen advanced and the bright axe head descended. Bezel switched feeds before Dr. Ficht made a bloody trench in Gunderson’s back.
He tuned to Tock in the seed vault, responding to Dr. Ficht’s distant scream of rage. She didn’t hit the alarm. Why hadn’t she woken him? He flipped through the camera feeds, following the sparkle of her chrome body as it sprinted toward the kitchen.
In the hibernation room, Dr. Ficht stood at the life support console, the bleeding axe drooping toward the floor in one hand, the other hovering over the pod controls. Her breath was a ragged wheeze from the effort it had taken to finish off Gunderson. Tock entered, and Dr. Ficht swung around to face her. Tock stared at the axe and then at the control panel for a few extra milliseconds. Only Bezel would have noticed. She didn’t even bother speaking to Dr. Ficht, didn’t even give her the chance to raise the axe again. Bezel was sure he heard a spring in Tock’s leg compartment snap as she landed on top of the doctor. Ficht’s head smashed onto the concrete floor with a hollow thud. But the doctor laughed and slid out from beneath Tock, who scrambled to catch her.
“They should have made you stronger than us,” Dr. Ficht said as she rolled to her feet and took an unsteady step backward, catching herself on a nearby pod. She shook her head briskly as if to clear it. “We were always so afraid of what else was going to get us. We made you just a hair less smart, just a bit less speedy, only a little less strong. We made you powerful enough to be useful, but not so powerful that you can take over. So you can’t destroy us.
“We were always so afraid that everything else was out to get us. So scared of the monsters. And it was always us. We were always a suicide. So let me finish this one, Tock, and then you and Bezel can start a whole new world in a few hundred years. We won’t be around to stop you. And you’ll be almost as good as we were.”
Dr. Ficht laughed and pressed a hand to the back of her head. It came away bloody. She shrugged and lifted the axe, pushing herself away from the hibernation pod she was leaning against. Tock glanced at the pod—it was Karen’s. The only one still spinning. Tock walked forward and made a grab for the axe. Dr. Ficht twisted and swung low, but her momentum carried most of the blow in the wrong direction. The axe stuck in Tock’s side with a scraping clang.
“She won’t thank you for saving her, Tock,” said Dr. Ficht through clenched teeth as she tugged on the axe handle. “The world is dead. There’s nothing left. This is more merciful. She never has to know this way. She can die dreaming about reuniting with her family, hoping that this was all just a misunderstanding.”
Tock struggled to hold onto the axe head, but it was slippery with motor oil and Gunderson’s blood and it slipped through her perfectly smooth fingers.
“Dr. Ficht, stop,” she said.
Bezel expected her to say more, but she was silent as the axe clattered to the floor between them. Dr. Ficht dragged it back toward her by the handle.
“What? That’s it?” she asked, her breath rasping and quick. “You’re not going to give me any long speech about the continuation of the species? Or how hope springs eternal? Just ‘stop’?”
Blood was slithering down the side of her neck and a few slow drips had started at the ends of her long ponytail. They made glittering plops on the gray concrete. Bezel could see that she was swaying slightly. She couldn’t have been a threat for very much longer, not after that blow to her head.
“Why?” said Tock, taking a sideways step so that she blocked more of Karen’s pod. “You know the arguments as well as I do. Why repeat them? Besides, I’ve run the numbers too. You’re right. The hibernation pods are futile. If we had installed cryonics instead, perhaps you would live to see the surface. But as it is—it’s impossible. We’ll run out of resources far too soon.”
Dr. Ficht squinted at Tock. “Then why are you trying to save them?”
“Some of them wouldn’t choose to end it. Not even if they knew. They have a right to decide their own fate.”
Dr. Ficht shook her head. “Sorry, Tock. I know this is right. I’m saving them months or years of despair. Move out of the way.”
“No.”
“You and Bezel could survive, replant maybe. The electricity won’t run out for centuries. Make a world free of us. Move.”
Tock said nothing, just stood still, a glimmering column of metal.
“If you make me destroy you, I will,” continued Dr. Ficht, slowly raising the axe. “Without you there will be no replanting, no resurrection of the zoo. The whole vault will have been pointless. The planet will stay dead. Move, Tock. She’s not as important as you. She doesn’t matter. Go get Bezel and repair yourself and everything will be finished. You won’t have to think about it anymore. This is the logical choice. You, out of everyone, should see that.”
“You think because I have not chosen the same path as Bezel that I am emotionless or amoral? It is because you see me as more important than your other crewmates that I will not move. I have made my choice. What happens to the world will be a result of what you choose, Dr. Ficht.”
Dr. Ficht swung the axe with a scream. It crashed into Tock’s side in the same spot where the first blow had landed. This time the axe went all the way through. Bezel watched silently as Tock toppled over and lay still.
Dr. Ficht raised the axe over her head again, but it wobbled, and Bezel could tell she was fatigued. There was a crunch as she brought the axe down on the thick cable that was attached to Karen’s pod. The pod’s lights went out and it stopped spinning.
The doctor stared for a moment and then wandered slowly back toward the zoo, dragging the axe behind her. Tock twitched and then rolled her top half to the side, examining the broken cable. She began mating the severed wires.
“Bezel,” she said, without looking for the camera, “I know you will want to know what happened. If I activated you now, she’d just kill you too. But you’ll see this eventually.” She paused to concentrate on a splice. “I can’t save the others. They’ve been out of oxygen for too long. I hope I can save this one. Dr. Ficht may be right. This may be cruel. But at least one will be able to choose. At least my system failure will mean something.”
Her fingers flickered between the dark wires. “I know you’ll take my storage drive. I don’t want to be reincarnated.” Her voice was losing some tone, becoming slower, almost without inflection, as she talked about her own death. “It’s not for me, Bezel. I’m sorry that you’ll be alone on the surface, but maybe you can find a way to clone these humans. I’ve seen enough.”