Exiles
Page 13
Chapter 4 Escape
Ford walked over to the window of his office, high up in the main infrastructure of the spaceport, and looked out of the window. The capital city of Paradise stretched out beneath him giving way to lush green fields. A silver ribbon of river glinting in the midday sun as it snaked its way across the fertile flood plains to an unseen coast. Where it would pour its life giving waters into the oceans. Beyond the plain lay densely wooded foothills. Their rich green canopy concealing a lush and complex web of life. Then in the far distance, barely visible to the naked human eye, the deciduous trees became hardy evergreens, before falling away all together as the hills folded up into steep snow capped ridges. That climbed ever upwards to meet the complex glaciated mountain range that marched ominously down from the planets polar ice cap.
He took a deep breath and exhaled heavily as he turned away from the window. He was going to miss the planet he’d come to think of as home.
It was hard to imagine that beneath its surface lay a hidden subterranean complex of passages, chambers and amphitheatres, packed full of advanced alien technology. The network stretched over several thousand kilometres, spreading around the planet and diving deep into its heart. At the centre of the complex lay a vast repository of ancient alien knowledge, far in advance of anything humanity or any other species possessed. Known as one of the lost arks of the ancients in the myths, legends, and folklore of countless cultures and civilizations, it was in fact a vast database watched over by an advanced AI, Gaia. It’s creators had it appeared seeded the galaxy with life then vanished. Leaving behind the arks and their AI overseers to protect them. Waiting for the day when a species might evolve that was deemed worthy of the knowledge contained within.
While the massive corporations that dominated human space battled for supremacy and sought to acquire and bend this alien technology to their will, a strange new religious cult was sweeping the galaxy, the Brethren. They too sought the arks proclaiming that the ancients, the creators of life, would return to pass judgement and only those deemed worthy would be spared.
By a strange quirk of fate, first as an instrument of the Malstrom Corporation, then as a freedom fighter, Ford or as he was now known Guardian Ford had become the organic interface of the AI. Its conduit to the outside world. The arbiter of its judgement of those around him. Although if anyone was going to be judged and found wanting he couldn’t help feeling it was him.
He rolled his eyes up into his skull till only the bloodshot whites were showing and slipped into the dataverse. A dark restless sea of data that ebbed and flowed around millions of data nodes that illuminated it like stars, giving it shape, form, and meaning. It was far more than just a repository of knowledge however. By manipulating the data streams, old stars died as new ones were born, endlessly reshaping and shifting the constellations as the nodes shimmered and shifted. Thus actions and outcomes could be evaluated, predictions made. Knowledge was power and this was the ultimate knowledge. The ability to see and predict the probable outcomes of future actions. He rolled his eyes back down and returned to the world around him.
He turned his attention to the wooden mannequin between his desk and the window behind it. Slipped the shimmering grey, hooded, cloak off it and tossed it onto the desk to reveal the battle worn armour, he’d worn during the rebellion, hanging limply beneath it. He traced his hand slowly over the breastplate. Every bump, every dent and scratch, told a story of battles fought and sacrifices made to secure the freedom of their planet. He wondered how many more sacrifices he’d have to make as the universe unravelled around them.
Silently he slipped out of the neatly pressed black two-piece suit and crisp white shirt he wore when on civilian duties in his spaceport office. Hanging them over the back of his chair, stripping down to his vest and pants. Then he slipped on the gunmetal armour, the soft inner lining contrasting sharply with the hard outer shell. He activated the suit leaving the helmet and visor retracted into its high collar. There was a slight hiss as it powered up and the inner lining moulded itself to the contours of his body. The high tensile fabric flowing over him to form a hermetic seal against any hostile environmental factors. He flexed his arms and legs reacquainting himself with an old friend. He dressed the mannequin neatly in his shirt and suit and brushed it down before slipping his unique cyberweave cloak over the top of his armour. He opened the top draw of the desk checked his heavy combat pistol was loaded and live and, pushing back his cloak, slipped it into the holster built into amours right hip. Finally he pulled out the package Ocoto had left him and slipped it into a concealed pocked inside his cloak.
He’d barely closed the draw when the door slid open and Bryson, in his immaculately polished armour, helmet retracted into the suits collar stepped into the office. He was flanked by four heavily armoured and armed security officers. Rifles held firmly across their chests, their helmets concealing their faces, with the interior of his office reflected in their mirrored visors. Reinstated as the head of planetary security, after they’d liberated the planet, he’d change little in the last four years. Save for the first hints of grey at the temples of his crew cut crop of thick black hair. His firm jaw and cold grey eyes mirroring the firm angular cut and colour of his gunmetal armour.
Ford smiled. “Funny isn’t it? Four years ago we all met in this room and I said I was going to build us a ship and hunt down Jasper, now look at us?”
Bryson nodded. “Life was a lot simpler when we were all just rebels.”
Ford held out his hands in front of him and waited for Bryson to cuff him. “Well I guess we’d best get this over with old friend.”
Bryson shook his head. “I prefer to think of this escort as a guard of honour, now if you'd care to join us outside?”
Ford followed them into the corridor where he was flanked by the four helmeted figures, two in front, two behind. Bryson took the lead a couple of paces ahead of them as they strode down the passage towards the central lift shaft. After a brief wait the doors of the leftmost lift opened. They stepped in and the doors slid shut behind them as Bryson punched the button for one of the upper levels.
Ford looked at him quizzically. “I thought the holding cells were on the lower levels?”
Bryson gave a non-committal shrug looking as the guards as he spoke. “I don’t recall saying we were going to the holding cells do you?” they all shook their heads without speaking.