by TJ Hudson
Harry stayed in the unlit spaces. He moved closer when the noise of the wind grew loud and paused when it settled down. Robert had reached Artimus, and Harry suddenly felt fear for his boss. Robert had a fearsome reputation and Artimus had refused to back down to him. They were living in dangerous times, not only the Colony but the whole of humanity.
He watched on as Robert started to shout at and prod his index finger repeatedly into Artimus's chest. Harry felt a shiver down his spine as he watched Robert occasionally violently gesture towards the open hanger doors and then point back at Artimus. There were safety nets under the doors, but the hanger was thirty floors up and Harry did wonder if Robert had the authority to retract the nets. He still could not hear what they were saying.
Crouching down now he edged his way closer, hiding behind other air-cars. He poked his head around the corner of one and saw Robert reaching a crescendo of rage. Artimus had obviously given up trying to fight his corner and had let Robert finish.
'Well man?' Robert, panting, asked of Artimus. Harry could now finally hear what was being said.
Artimus started laughing, a strange guttural laugh. It made Harry feel sick and afraid, something was wrong. This was totally out of character for Artimus. The Councillor did not move for a while, apart from his shoulders bobbing up and down as he laughed. Robert stared back with incredulity on his face.
'Are you taking the...' he was cut off as Artimus raised his right hand up to head height with its palm facing Robert, who could not finish his sentence.
'Oh Robert, you could have been quite an asset you know. A bit too strong willed for your own good. I won't miss you.'
A second later Robert was running full speed towards the open doors, when he reached the threshold he leapt into the air further than a human should be able to and fell. The nets would not save him even if they were still deployed. The Councillor acted as if nothing had happened, he simply got into his car and programmed it to take him home. As he did so ribbons of light danced about the hanger, concentrating themselves around the security holocams.
Harry was frozen with fear. Part of him wanted to confront Artimus, another to run away screaming and a final stronger part had him rooted where he was. With Artimus's car long gone Harry finally decided to move, he slowly started to rise when a cloak was thrown over him. As this happened an arm grabbed him from behind across his shoulders and neck. He was dragged out of the hanger through a maintenance door and out into a side corridor. The person released him and stood back. Harry threw the cloak off and spun round to face his captor. It was Conner.
'What the?' was all Harry could manage. He recognised Conner from his face but other than that he appeared very different to how Harry usually knew him. Gone was the appearance of a man who had never done any sort of manual labour. He was replaced by a somehow taller and larger man who stood confidently and moved with purpose, no sagging shoulders or hanging head.
'Keep quiet and trust me,' Conner spoke differently too: firm and to the point. Harry had known him for five years and had never witnessed Conner acting so decisively before.
'Are you Conner?' Harry asked slowly, still not sure about his supposed colleague.
'Yes, yes. For pity's sake. We both accidentally got Joan fired remember?' Now that was definitely the special type of exasperation Conner saved for Harry, and only the two of them knew they were both accidentally responsible for getting someone needlessly fired.
'Oh yes, of course. Well look at you Mr Soldier Man,' Harry said, now grinning at Conner.
'After what you've just witnessed, that's what you come out with?' uttered a still exasperated Conner.
'Must be a defence or coping mechanism. What's up with you anyway? With this?' Harry found his current situation quite unbelievable and could not help finding the sight of his now much more masculine and confident colleague borderline comical.
'Just shut up for now and follow me, we need to go somewhere safe and private.'
An hour later they were in a small apartment on the edge of the colonial city. Conner had taken Harry back to the office under the cloak. Once there he had told Harry to meet him at a side entrance. As far as the staff and the building would be concerned, Harry had left work normally. Conner had disappeared and then met Harry at the entrance in an air-car, then flown them to the apartment.
'Okay, I don't know where I am and my trusting of you is running out,' Harry let Conner know once they were inside. The apartment was stark and utilitarian, perfect for a murder Harry had thought while looking at Conner. The older man was wearing an all in one black combat suit. It had a fine dark green metallic net woven into it. The cloak too was made of the same material. Conner had explained on the flight that it was an adaptive and intelligent cloth. It provided a form of shielding from surveillance and had the ability to re-write almost all electronic records. He still had to rely on his wits and other skills when it came to avoiding or dealing with humans.
'I'm the last thing you need to worry about. We've been invaded by aliens,' Conner replied with no hint of sarcasm as was usual from him.
'Yes. I do know that. That's why we're here and everyone else is over there somewhere messing about in the home Solar System,' Harry replied, gesturing vaguely with his arms as he talked.
'No no, not attacked, we've been properly invaded, no, infiltrated.' Conner had never been more serious and under closer, calmer scrutiny from Harry he appeared to be shaken.
Conner continued, 'We've been attacked on two fronts. The space war that has driven us back so far and a war of espionage.
'All our intelligence and analysis from captured alien craft says we should have been able to hold our own in a war. Our ships should not have been routinely destroyed the way they have been.'
'Oh wonderful, you're a corporate spook,' Harry said rolling his eyes.
'No! Harry!' Conner growled through gritted teeth, then calmed himself and continued, 'That stuff is long in the past. Of course I am a secret agent, but believe it or not there are some of us who want to protect and preserve humanity for the good of us all.'
'How noble of you,' Harry replied with a slight smile.
Conner paused, waited for another smart comment from Harry that never came, drew in a breath and continued, 'Yes, thank you. Anyway. As you must have guessed, Artimus has been infiltrated. Stop grinning.
'Actually it's more likely he has been "activated", by aliens. Do you remember the story of the first attack on us in the war? When the Enyo was destroyed and only one small shuttle survived.
'That ship was not destroyed by some sort of super powerful alien Reaper ship... It was blown up from within. We were lucky that amongst the first people on the scene of the wreckage were some of the people that work for the same organisation I do, and they acted quickly, taking deep scans of the debris. The information showed that not only was the Enyo destroyed from within, but that the surviving shuttle had been protected by a shield bubble. Our operatives kept that information to themselves, as the survivors gave a very different story. They told tales of giant and powerful insect like ships destroying the Enyo, they named these massive ships The Reapers.'
'So what does this have to do with Artimus all these years later?' Harry asked, wondering where this was going.
'Well Artimus is descended from one of those survivors, we can trace it right back. Artimus isn't the first person to have raised our suspicions. All throughout human occupied space there have been people who have convincingly argued for retreat back into the Solar System. Most of them can have their ancestry traced back to survivors of the Enyo attack. It has been very subtle and implemented over hundreds of years, but we did notice. However we have only clocked on to them once they have been "activated".
'So in recent years we have been trying to track every descendent from that first shuttle of survivors who is in some position of authority or influence; we call them Infectors. Once they are activated, their ideas spread until almost everyone is convinced. In normal
circumstances they would not get very far; the only explanation is that they are being aided by an alien influence.
'In Artimus we believed we had found our first potential Infector. You know him, he wanted the easy life and a cushy job. I made sure he was promoted beyond his abilities. You helped out with that, the two of us carried him higher than he had any right to be. Oh don't look so smug.'
Harry could not help himself, 'Okay, sorry, carry on.'
'Look, we wanted him to be the perfect bait and the perfect rival. You see he wasn't the only potential Infector on the colony. Robert was another. Finally, after so many years we had the chance to not only observe the activation process but to see the method of choice.
'At no time have two active Infectors been together on the same ship, space station or even planet. They're desperate not to arouse suspicion. It would be either Robert or Artimus who would be activated. In a way, they were our bait.
'And then it happened. In one policy area Artimus started to become competent and convincing. He was actually making people think that abandoning the Colony would be a good idea. Even I started to feel his ideas had merit, I found myself having to snap out of it every night. Somehow being aware of it, whatever "it" is gives you a level of defence.
'I watched as Robert's attitudes stayed exactly the same and felt sorry for him, as fewer and fewer people listened to him, no matter his position of authority.
'It is Artimus that has given us a key piece of information: if a potential Infector is going to be activated, then it will be someone with a more malleable and weaker willed personality. And they then go on to influence similar people, until their ideas and influence really take hold and spread. After a while, the alien influence that originated with the Infector seems to take on a life of its own.
'This may seem obvious now, but they didn't activate the strong willed, loud and brash Robert. But how were we to know? A big personality might have been easier to target,' Conner finished. Harry was quiet a moment, taking it all in, before replying.
'Right, so the aliens want us back in the home Solar System? Wait, which aliens, who is creating the Infectors?' Harry asked, his brain still digesting the new world view Conner had just dumped on him.
'Yes, they want us to abandon The First and Last Colony of the Humans. Probably because they can't take it by force. We don't actually know which alien race or if all of them are doing this.'
'So it's not The Reapers?'
'In a way it probably is them. But they're not some sort of ultra aliens with mega ships. That much we're certain.
'Anyway, the colony was our first plan to save humanity and it looks like, because of Artimus, it is going to fail. His influence is growing too fast to control.'
'Conner?'
'Yes?'
'Why have you just told me all this?' Harry asked.
'Because you have gone and inadvertantly recruited yourself, witnessing what you did,' it was Conner's turn to grin, 'You're less influenced by whatever it is Artimus is doing. We need to study and hopefully thwart him. But we can't let him know we're on to him.
'You see, we still have so much to learn. Robert was a direct biological descendent of the survivors, while Artmus's lineage has several adoptions in it. Whatever it is, it's not genetic.'
'Right. There's no way out of this for me is there?'
Conner shook his head.
Harry asked another question, 'If it has reached such a crisis point, why don't you kill Artimus?'
'I can't, and nor can anyone else. Try this thought experiment: imagine yourself with a gun and you are alone with Artimus in his office, now imagine yourself shooting him.'
'I can't,' Harry replied, frowning.
'Exactly, once activated the alien aura of influence they project has a very strong self preservation mechanism. It is somehow able to stop any form of direct assault, by simply making everyone incapable of it in the first place.
'This is why the fight back has been so hard, we physically cannot fight back. We may be able to resist the more complicated influences: such as the future of The Colony. But on a primal level, they've got us. So we have to try and match them at their own game.'
'Right, okay. One more question. Who do I work for now?' Harry asked.
'The Ark Project.'
2849 AD - Keep the Hope
The delivery box in Harry's apartment gently chimed as it received the package. Harry stopped eating his breakfast and gazed at the illuminated icon on the wall next to his apartment door. After a few seconds he decided he would check the box later, when he would be leaving for work. He had very little motivation these days. As far as he was concerned he was now an abject failure.
The Colony was in the process of being abandoned; Artimus and whoever he was working for had won. The previously titled Councillor Artimus Spencer was now Supreme Head Councillor Artimus Spencer; which was a new position specially created for him just over a year ago. Artimus had re-established official contact with the rest of humanity. Once contact was established a special fleet (to collect The Colony population) had been immediately dispatched. It had arrived three months ago.
Every day and night people were continually ferried by shuttles up to the waiting fleet. Everyone had been told the dreaded Reapers were on their way, that The Colony and its protection forces would not stand a chance in a fight and that the people of the Colony were being saved from this inevitable threat.
Harry knew there was only a hint of truth to this. There were Reapers, but they were not what people thought they were. They were not ships of terrible destruction but instead humans. Humans infected by some alien presence; who allowed bombs and other nefarious devices to be smuggled or even, if rumours were to be believed, teleported in to targeted areas. The infected humans would lower shields and disrupt surveillance. The human ships and space stations were blown up from the inside. There were no external attacks.
Conner had told Harry that the Ark Project had not been able to work out if the humans, who carried out the attacks, were themselves Infectors or had been brainwashed by the Infectors. This is why times were so dangerous: it was almost impossible to know who to trust. Maintaining composure, especially in the face of Artimus had been incredibly stressful.
Harry continued with his morning routine, trying to stretch it out as long as possible. He knew there were a few others in The Colony like him; people who had not succumbed to the alien influence. But they were sparse and spread out, he could not risk trying to approach anyone. He dreaded going outside now.
The last week had been particularly bad as Conner had disappeared. A while ago they had both realised Harry's Sound Buffer on his desk provided some sort of negative effect on Artimus's influence. Whenever Harry used it, he felt at ease and all thoughts of leaving The Colony left his mind.
It was not the type of Sound Buffer, but instead Harry's particular unique one. They had tried out the same type and brand of Sound Buffer on various people in the office, though no one had produced a good result. Conner was desperate Harry's device should be analysed, but to remove it would arouse suspicion. They were convinced Artimus had his eye on it. Eventually Conner had grown too desperate and removed it, replacing it with an identical unit. That must have been the evidence Artimus needed to act, as Conner had not been seen since the units were swapped.
Finally done with his morbid contemplation Harry made his way outside, stopping to retrieve the contents of the box as he exited. All that had been delivered was simply a small metallic card with the words For Harry etched onto it. He picked it up and as he did so the card glowed orange where his fingers and thumb held it, this was accompanied by an ever so slight burning sensation. Harry realised the card had just taken a sample of his skin to confirm the genetic identity of the person holding it.
A moment later more words appeared on one side of the card. They were an address with some odd instructions at the end of it. Curiosity got the better of his fear and he decided to go to the destination.
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Half an hour later he was standing next to the corner of a building on one of the city's streets. To its side was a small maintenance alley. He looked around the deserted streets and shivered, partly due to the cold and partly because of nerves. He took two steps into the alley and counted three hand widths up from the ground, how very quaint he thought. He counted four palm lengths to the left and where his final hand rested he pushed in with his index finger. As he pushed, a small section of the dull, grey metal material that made up the building turned to liquid and trickled away. The liquid metal formed a small pool in the ground then took on the shape of a speaker; it spoke.
'Do not join the Beta Project. If you're hearing this then, guess what? I'm dead, so I really do hope you never hear this. Anyway, actually, I might not be dead I might have been caught and whisked away somewhere to be tortured or imprisoned, either way, for all intents and purposes I'm dead. Don't think about getting help, you will only hear this if I'm irretrievably gone,' the voice belonged to Conner.
It sighed then carried on, 'Just don't go on the Beta Project. Go instead to the Solar System with the rest of humanity. We've been compromised. If I've been caught then it means they're on to us and that means it's over. If they're on to me then they're on to the Ark Project, both aspects of it. Don't worry, it doesn't mean they're on to you. There is no trail to connect you to The Ark Project, they will only think we were work colleagues.
'It's over, we've lost. The Beta Project will be destroyed, though I don't think everyone else will be killed. Go to the Solar system with the rest of humanity. Though obviously make sure you're on a civilian ship, not a military one. Good bye mate,' the message ended and the speaker returned to liquid. It started to fizz then evaporated in to the air.
Harry stood back from the acrid fumes, his eyes stung; partly from the metallic smoke and partly from tears. He looked up at The Colony City around him and the sky above. He wanted to scream and shout, but to who? Nobody would listen, everyone was too afraid of the so called Reapers. Or worse he would be taken away somewhere and killed like Conner.
