The Far Shores (The Central Series)

by Rawlins, Zachary

  She considered it from every angle, but decided there was nothing she could do with it, not in the middle of an operational theater.

  “Michael, I know this stuff gets to you. When kids are involved.” Alice put one hand on his shoulder with all the tenderness she could muster. As she would have freely admitted, tenderness was not Alice Gallow’s strong suit. “But we’ve got enough on our plates right now, without trying to cope with all the evils of the world. And our own set of kids to worry about it. I need to know you are focused, that you’ve got your head in the game. Okay?”

  He nodded, dreadlocks bouncing along with the motion.

  “Yeah.”

  “You gonna be able to do this?”

  Michael didn’t look up from the dead Ghoul, which really didn’t look anything at all like a child, if that was what it had been, once. His only response was a curt nod.

  “You gonna be okay?”

  “I’ll be fine,” Michael said softly, turning back toward the triage area. “Just as soon as Alistair isn’t.”

  ***

  The World Tree was right where it was supposed to be, according to the plans she had memorized during an earlier visit to the Far Shores that Vivik had facilitated. Once Emily located the control room, the telepathic routine the engineers had imprinted in her head worked exactly as it was supposed to. As machinery hummed and the World Tree in the adjoining room flexed and shivered, Emily wondered why the Far Shores hadn’t yet aligned what appeared to be a rooted World Tree. Perhaps it was intended as an apology for kidnapping the Changeling; a proof of the indispensable value of the Far Shores in the event of potential violence from the Auditors or Rebecca Levy. Or perhaps they been afraid to trust their Etheric interference generator, and assumed the moment they activated the World Tree all of Central would know?

  Whatever the case, the implanted knowledge assured her that the World Tree was mature and functional. Whatever else could be said of the Far Shores, they were capable botanists and engineers, if not soldiers. Surely they had tracked Emily’s progress here, and she imagined that they were desperate to reclaim Eerie, who was huddled in a far corner of the building, whimpering from the moment the machinery started to turn over, filling the room with unearthly harmonics. Naturally, they were helpless to intervene. Emily had flooded the entire sublevel, saving only this chamber and the adjoining hallway, with water that was only just short of freezing. Unless the Far Shores dug up someone who could breathe water, it would take time to drain the tunnels one by one, to reach the chamber she currently occupied.

  She wondered if anyone at the Far Shores could breathe water. It seemed like the sort of useless talent they would cultivate.

  Emily laughed as the control panels lit up like a skyline at dusk, the World Tree twisting into the first stages of alignment. It hardly mattered now.

  ***

  In the null-space of a shared telepathic session hosted by Haley’s ghost image, the blueprints of the chemical factory were superimposed like an angular fingerprint from some determinedly utilitarian deity. The plans were both flat and three-dimensional, a composite psychic image infused with the observations of the remote viewers, punctuated here and there with hypertext assumptions – likely hard points, sniper nests, and ambush sites; estimated forces and distributions; real-time data relayed from Karim’s surveillance, both mundane and by protocol. Six months ago it would have been an unreadable mess of light and impressions, but now Alex absorbed it with casual aplomb.

  The session had taken some time to organize, and accessing it had caused Alex a brief moment of disorientation and frightful pain – apparently a side effect of passing through the heavily encrypted telepathic shields that had been erected to exclude any potential Anathema monitoring of the strategy session. Alex was torn between resenting the experience and hoping that the countermeasures proved effective.

  Changes had clearly been made, Alex thought, secretly proud at his own progression. The hours of drilling in the Program were paying dividends.

  This is what we think we are dealing with.

  Miss Gallow’s awareness flowed over the representation, directing their attention with the forced point of view of a video game cut scene, highlighting a vast empty space near the heart of the structure where the factory floor had existed.

  Remote viewers having been crawling all over the site for hours, not to mention Haley’s dogs, and despite the shielding, they’ve noticed a few interesting things. There are tread marks from heavy equipment all around the facility.

  The view of the plan swept over to a satellite image, juxtaposed with Karim’s high-definition video feed of the same patch of petroleum-stained mud and tangled weeds. In a nearby wetland, a large of amount of recently dumped machinery rusted.

  This stuff is worth money to scrappers, assuming they have the equipment to move that much steel, so I think it’s safe to assume that’s not your normal industrial dumping. The Anathema have done a fair amount of clearing the factory floor, and according to our remote viewers, cut sections from the interior ceiling and catwalks as well. Suffice to say, this is where the party will be held.

  Alex’s awareness was directed back to the center of the old factory, the locations of presumably removed machinery becoming transparent to represent its currents state.

  Whatever they’re building, it’s big, and that’s good for us. That’s a lot to guard and keep track of, and a whole bunch of overlooked corners and shadows to work with.

  Do we know what it is?

  Katya directed their attention to the grey mass in the center of the room, formless and vague.

  We have an idea.

  Alice’s response was guarded, as if she were weighing the necessity of telling them what she knew.

  Part of it is what we saw in China – a scrambler that prevents incoming apports and muddles the perceptions of the remote viewers. But this is bigger, and they’ve expended considerably more resources in constructing this. The working assumption, at the moment, is that it is a transportation device called a ‘World Tree’, capable of effecting large-scale transfers of material and personnel through the Ether without the aid of an apport technician.

  Can it reach Central?

  Mitsuru’s alarm was perceptible, thanks to the empathic undertones that accompanied any such telepathic conference, to compensate for the loss of the emotional context that tone and body language would normally convey. The grimness of Alice’s response was equally obvious.

  Probably. Can’t imagine any other purpose for it. Consultations with Vlad and the lab people are ongoing, but if this World Tree is what our intelligence indicates – based on a Working rather than an apport protocol – then it should be able to bypass the barrier that protects Central. With that in mind, let’s discuss potential Anathema forces. Michael?

  Sure. As Mitsuru’s inquiry probably already made obvious, there is every possibility that we will find an offensive force in the factory, in addition to whatever defensive personnel were already on site. Intelligence indicates that the World Tree will go live within the next ten hours.

  It hadn’t been obvious to Alex, but now that the possibility had been suggested, he certainly found it troubling. The last Anathema raid on Central had been an extended and terrible experience, one that he was eager to avoid repeating. He wondered about the time frame – within ten hours could mean anything from exactly ten hours from now to right this very moment – and hoped that Eerie was somewhere safe, preferably wherever Rebecca Levy was.

  Then again, it wasn’t as if she had been in particular danger last time.

  We have a rough estimate of numbers, based on what we faced at the perimeter. Assuming they use a defensive strategy consistent with what we have encountered at other Anathema facilities, we can expect forces inside the building equivalent to what we’ve already encountered. Not necessarily numerically – our best guess is that they reserve Ghouls and Weir for perimeter duty. Fully transformed Anathema, however, are more likely – and as w
e learned from our previous encounters, one Anathema is more dangerous than a dozen Weir. If there is an attack force on site, that will not only increase the opposition we face, but also their caliber. Analytics believes that the Anathema are planning another assault on Central, and that they will launch it from this location.

  Alex harbored private doubts. Most of the Anathema he had encountered were Anathema in name only, really just renegade Operators who had changed allegiance but not subjected themselves to the horrific transformation Emily had described to him.

  Scanning for Etheric Signatures has proved to be nearly impossible. But there is one particular signature that is well known to Analytics, and apparently they have devised some kind of sorting equation that allows for a negative proof – that is, if the equation balances, then that signature is not present. The equation, in this case, does not balance.

  The subtle tension in the conference ratcheted up dramatically, particularly from Mitsuru. Alex was sure that they were all thinking exactly what he was, and probably feeling the same odd mixture of anticipation and anxiety.

  Alistair?

  Mitsuru’s inquiry was just barely a question.

  Alistair. Plan accordingly.

  Again, the dizzying shift in perspective, as Michael handed control of the presentation back to Miss Gallow. Alex had never shared such an intense and prolonged psychic interaction with her before, and found the experience disturbing. There was a barely repressed glee in her anticipation of violence that had no parallel in his experience. He was eager for the session to conclude, so he could go back to being nervous and sick to his stomach in private.

  Chike has made several apports into the vicinity of the building, and though no hostile action was taken, the building appears to be sealed and potentially reinforced. The possibility of traps and defensive countermeasures is too great to risk direct entry. The Anathema believe that apporting into the facility is impossible, a factor that will have played heavily into the planning of their defenses.

  Or so you assume.

  Katya did not bother to hide her skepticism, broadcasting her wariness for the whole conference to share.

  Are you saying they are wrong? I thought they had a scrambler that prevented apports, like they did in China.

  To Alex’s surprise, Miss Gallow seemed amused by Katya’s interjection, rather than infuriated.

  They do. But thanks to Mitsuru’s contact...

  The Witch?

  The Witch. Thanks to her, we have a surprise for the Anathema. We have something that will allow direct access to their facility. We will apport in as two separate teams, one to engage the Anathema and provide a distraction, while the other will concentrate on sabotaging their World Tree before it can be activated.

  Katya’s thoughts dripped with disbelief.

  You trust a Witch to this extent? What if she lied? We could just as easily find that whatever she gave you hands us directly to our enemies, or skips the whole preamble and just kills us all.

  Alex had to admit that she had a point, even if he wished that she would wait for a more opportune moment, or at least be a bit more diplomatic in her presentation. Again, however, Miss Gallow surprised him by reacting with sarcasm rather than anger.

  If you prefer to attack the building directly, then by all means, go ahead and try and knock down the doors, Katya. Otherwise, do me a favor, and shut up and listen.

  To Alex’s relief, Katya bit her tongue, though she did not bother to disguise the contempt she felt for Miss Gallow’s plan. Equally obvious was Mitsuru’s rising anger at Katya, which she also chose to make public. Apparently, that whole dust-up between them the day before had left hard feelings.

  Mitsuru, Chike will be apporting you in. Your team will be in charge of sabotaging the World Tree. Chike, after the initial apport, pull back and hang with Karim, in case he needs to reposition. Mitsuru will call you in, after she’s secured the location. Chike’s got a range of demo gear that Vlad provided for this little adventure. We’ll be hitting the World Tree on a number of different levels, so if one approach doesn’t work, there will be half a dozen other calamities on hand.

  Chike accepted his instructions with the quiet modesty that seemed to define his character. The enthusiasm and pride of Mitsuru’s affirmation, on the other hand, blew away her previous anger like smoke dispersing in the wind.

  As you say.

  Understood.

  Good. Min-jun, Katya, Haley, Alex – you’re with Mitsuru. In the event that our psychic link is cut, she has absolute authority. No questions, no disagreements. The World Tree must be destroyed, whatever the cost.

  There was a general acknowledgment that took the place of what would have been nods. The nuances varied – Katya’s was grudging, Min-jun’s curt and professional, while both Haley and Alex were reserved and nervous – but the agreement was universal.

  In the meantime, Xia, Michael, and I will be making a big mess of things, and keeping as much of the Anathema force off your back as possible. Karim, you’re on overwatch. Operating details and fine print will be implanted directly following this discussion. Any questions?

  There weren’t. There never were.

  One more thing.

  Alice’s thoughts were stern and grim. That got all of their attention, when a moment before they had been shifting and restless, waiting for the brief to end.

  This World Tree...it has some unusual properties. I don’t have a handle on it completely, but I do know that it’s dangerous. I don’t want anyone aiming at the thing, or using a protocol or a weapon on it. We’ll destroy the thing conventionally, okay? By the numbers. With that in mind, I want you all to be cautious using protocols anywhere in the vicinity of the World Tree. That goes double for Alex and Mitzi, okay? The two of you are enough trouble on your own.

  Thanks to the empathic link, they could all feel Mitsuru’s temper rise, but Alice stamped it out with a curtness that struck Alex as cruel.

  In fact, Mitzi, I don’t want you to use your Black Protocol at all on this one. Too many unknowns. You can do plenty of damage with your implant anyway. We clear on that?

  Alex squirmed and wished that he could leave the conversation, and nearly everyone seemed to feel the same, aside from Katya, who was amused by the encounter. Alice remained resolute, the full force of her will turned on Mitsuru, who wavered between open defiance and quiet resentment.

  Understood.

  There was an undercurrent of rage beneath the monosyllabic response, but if Alice noticed, then she chose not to remark on it. Alex decided to let the others handle it. At this point in the game, he knew he was in too deep to do anything other than soldier on and hope that it would all be over soon.

  Twenty.

  Apports were a tricky business.

  The lesson hadn’t simply been learned in the hours of lecture and theory study that the Program entailed, though the subject was certainly covered at length. Practical experience had driven home the point for Alex. Even a relatively skilled apport technician – like Svetlana of the Black Sun, for example – would often skew slightly one of the three dimensions that had to be determined, creating a short but jarring drop to the ground or a displacement of a less than a meter from the target location. In fact, a small drop was often the mark of an experienced technician – erring in delivering an apport too low could well be injurious or fatal to the transported, leaving them embedded in the ground, or worse. The smaller the target, the greater the hazard these small variations created. It took a preternaturally capable technician, such as Miss Gallow, to attempt an apport to an object in motion or to a location based merely on visual reference material.

  Thus, Alex felt a deep appreciation of the skill required for Chike to land their group of six on a catwalk above the factory floor that was no more than a meter wide, without the slightest drop to create a crashing sound that would have alerted the entire facility to their presence. He hardly knew the Nigerian Auditor, beyond his friendly disposition and soft-spoken de
meanor, but his successful delivery of their combat group bumped him up several slots on Alex’s list of favorite people.

  Alex glanced around the room, lit only by halogen work lights on temporary stands arrayed across the factory floor, casting bright circles of illumination on clusters of technicians and banks of blue-screened monitors, collections of arcane machinery and nervous-looking armed men who watched everything with an intensity that bordered on suspicion. In the center of the floor, there was a thing that Alex lacked the vocabulary to describe, maybe even the mental capacity to comprehend. If not for the Witch they had encountered, he wouldn’t even have had a name for it.

  If the World Tree looked like anything, then it vaguely resembled an upside down tree made from crystal the color of crushed ice flecked with brown and grey impurities. It didn’t touch the ground, from what Alex could see, but instead emerged from a tangle of machinery and Etheric discharge. Even as he watched, the crystal fluctuated, growing and splintering, branching and disappearing in blatant defiance of gravity, with a root-like unsupported bulk near the top, not far beneath the fragile footing of the catwalk on which they stood, and narrowing closer to the ground, like a frozen fountain.

  The crystalline structure resonated with a low hum that rattled his teeth and vibrated his skull, a sound that he had the strange conviction was the transmuted sonic form of the light it emitted. There was a familiar rhythm to its infrasonic fluctuation, like the ponderously slow heartbeat of something too huge to exist. It hurt too look at it, and reminded him vaguely of his encounter with a Horror – a profound disconnect, the intrinsic wrong of the alien, of the vast outside. The outer branches sparked and fumed as if subject to an intense friction, though the air was perfectly still. The surface belched steam that smelled both sweet and acidic in a way that made his stomach turn. Alex was grateful when Haley’s arrival was signaled by their shared telepathic link snapping back online, pulling his attention away from the World Tree below.