Gravity

by Andy Briggs

  They nodded, expecting him to launch into an explanation about some complex gadget.

  Instead he hopped on one foot. “There you go. A simple hop, and I can resist the entire pull of the earth.”

  Dev frowned as his uncle sat back down. “But we’ve had tons of gravity devices go through these doors. Take the Avro; isn’t it powered by negative-gravity engines?”

  Mason passed his hand over his head, accompanied by a swooshing sound, to indicate his incomprehension.

  Charles noted Mason’s bewildered expression. “It doesn’t matter. Just accept that gravity is unlike any other force in the universe. Drop the tiniest measure of poison in a lake and you won’t be harmed if you swallow some of the water. Take a concentrated dose and drop it in your milkshake” – Mason paused; he still had the straw in his mouth – “and there will be no hope for you.”

  Charles waved a hand towards the revolving Newton’s Arrow graphic. “This device harnesses gravitons and unleashes them in concentrated, controllable waves. Able to pass through anything – including entire planets – the waves created by this weapon can create localized gravity fields.”

  “Which is how he shrank the vault door,” said Dev.

  “Exactly. Or lifted an entire building, by creating an inverse-gravity field. This is a fascinating area of science that Professor Liu pioneered.”

  Dev had a thought: “Is Liu dead?”

  “Retired. Once he realized just how destructive his research was, he disappeared into obscurity.”

  Lot tapped the holographic Newton’s Arrow and watched it spin around. “So what we have here sounds like the ultimate weapon.”

  Charles nodded.

  “Then why bother attacking a building?”

  Charles Parker leaned back in his chair and steepled his fingers. “Now we come to the real issue.”

  One of the clues Dev had overlooked suddenly dropped into place. “You said NiGen Labs was Professor Liu’s company?” he said, pointing at the holograph. “That explains why there was a spare battery in the vault. It’s not as if this thing runs on a bunch of double As.”

  “Very astute, Devon. You are correct, although it is not a battery in the traditional sense. It is a graviton amplifier, but effectively the same thing.”

  Dev continued. “So he hoped to take the building somewhere safe because he wanted the entire lab – he needed time to go through all the research in there.” Charles nodded. “But the Arrow ran out of power.”

  Lot gasped, because she had just had a realization – at the same time as Dev.

  Mason, however, looked between them, puzzled.

  “They built the weapon, yeah?” Lot said to him. “They would have had all the plans, yeah?” She saw the penny drop.

  “They could’ve made more of them!”

  Charles nodded. “But thanks to you, he didn’t get everything. We now have the blueprints safely stored away. You stopped him getting away with a lot of precious information.”

  “Except whatever was in that blue case,” said Mason.

  The faint ripples of satisfaction Dev had been feeling were suddenly extinguished. His uncle’s expression became grim once more.

  “Yes.”

  Dev studied his uncle’s face. “What’s in the case?”

  “We don’t know. It’s a mystery to me.” The moment the words were out of Charles’s mouth, Dev knew they were a lie. Or at least a partial lie. Charles’s hand reached out and shut down the tablet’s holographic display, and he looked over at Lot and Mason. “I believe it’s time to get you both home. You must be exhausted.”

  Lot and Mason murmured in agreement. They shuffled out of the canteen, and Dev stood to leave.

  “Devon, while you were out there . . . did you see anybody else?” Charles asked. “Anybody who may have been assisting Christen Sandberg?”

  Dev unwaveringly met his uncle’s gaze. “Only who I told you. We think he drove the van on his own, so he had no accomplices.” Dev had deliberately not mentioned the shadowy figure he had seen watching him, or the painful incident that had interfered with his synaesthesia.

  Charles nodded. “Then I suppose we let the mystery continue.”

  No, thought Dev, let’s not. . .

  A rumbling sound grew, echoing along the metal walls, as they made their way down the corridor. Christen tried to project an air of confidence, but he was feeling more anxious than ever before.

  Kardach led him off the yacht to a waiting helicopter. From there they travelled in complete darkness for over an hour. When they landed, Christen couldn’t see a thing, but the lingering smell of salt air convinced him they were still close to the ocean.

  They entered a huge room with oak-panelled walls, each of which was decorated with a distinctive twirling logo. Christen had first thought it illustrated a pair of spiral staircases, but then he remembered where he had seen it before: it was a double helix, representing the strands of DNA that made all life possible. His new, mysterious master had adopted both the name and image.

  A lone figure sat at the end of a table so long that fifty people could sit either side. Christen had no doubt the man at the end was Double Helix. He was expecting an archetypal villain, somebody who belonged more in a movie than in real life. Instead, Double Helix looked ordinary, plain, like the kind of person Christen would expect to run a church jumble sale.

  Helix slowly stirred a cup of tea; the spoon gently tinkled each time it touched the fine china porcelain. Then he spoke in an unassuming voice. “Mr Sandberg. Welcome to Shadow Helix.” He nodded towards Kardach. “My associate here told me how marvellously well you performed in Japan.”

  Christen grinned. “It was a blast. And you paid very well, sir.” He had no idea where sir came from. He’d never called anybody sir, except when he had been in school. Somehow it seemed the correct thing to do here.

  “Indeed. Although there comes a time in a person’s life when he must choose between money and something far greater.”

  Christen was baffled as to what could be more important than money.

  Helix sensed his uncertainty and chuckled. “Believe me, there are many more things worth fighting for.”

  “I would like to know what they are,” said Christen with complete honesty.

  “Good. That is why I would be pleased if you joined my organization. After a recent . . . incident, I find myself a little short on key personnel.”

  “That’s why I’m here.”

  Helix tapped his spoon twice on the edge of his cup as he finished stirring. “You may find some of the tasks unpalatable, but they must be completed without question.”

  “Of course.”

  “Good.” Double Helix sipped his tea, then waved his cup towards Kardach. “My associate has all the information you require.”

  Kardach handed him a small phone. “All the details are on this. It’s a retrieval job. It may involve a spot of assassination. I hope you don’t mind.”

  Christen gave a broad, toothy grin. That had never stopped him before.

  Dev tiptoed down the empty, curving corridor, one of many interlocking passageways that connected areas of the Inventory together in a series of increasingly secure rings. There had always been security cameras and monitors everywhere, but since the Collector’s team had broken in, the World Consortium had vastly increased the surveillance, determined that that would never happen again. Or at least, that had been their plan.

  Dev knew the security team were running behind schedule and, because the most important artefacts in the collection had already been stolen, there was little effort made for installing state-of-the-art security on half-empty shelves. Instead they had concentrated on preventing access from the outside.

  Previously, Dev had created a clever computer code to trick the security system into not reporting his whereabouts, but that wouldn’t work now, as Eema had been reprogrammed to respond to any hack on her system. Instead he used his special power to attack the hardware, convincing the camera
processor to replace his image with the image of Charles Parker instead. Why rewrite the software code when his synaesthesia could help him rework the entire microprocessor hardware?

  Dev opened the door to the Green Zone and made his way through the rows of shelves. It had taken minutes for the thieves to loot the most precious items, and his uncle and Sergeant Wade were still uncertain how they had managed to sort through and move so much so quickly.

  Reaching a rack of remaining gadgets, Dev selected an OmniBoard so he could race through the zones quickly, balancing on the board’s single orb-like wheel.

  He made swift progress through the aisles of shelves, which seemed to get emptier the closer he got to the next inner sanctum: the Blue Zone.

  The automated system, believing him to be Charles Parker riding an OmniBoard, opened the zone’s giant access door. The last time Dev had been here, the entire hangar had been flooded with water as a security measure. Thankfully it was now bone dry. There were more items left here – enormous battleships and submarines held in dry-dock cradles, towering above him. He noticed some of the smaller craft had been taken, and there were several empty cradles, indicating entire battleships had been pilfered. Just how the thieves had managed that, he couldn’t imagine.

  Up ahead the door to the junkyard separated the warehouse units from the most secure area of all, the Red Zone, which lay at the heart of the Inventory. Dev’s curiosity to know more about how he was created had turned into a nagging urge. He had questions he wanted answered, but his uncle had no intention of discussing the matter. He would have to find the answers himself – and that meant a second visit to the Red Zone.

  Dev was dismayed to see several uniformed soldiers stationed outside the doors. His uncle clearly wasn’t taking any chances, or perhaps he suspected Dev might try to enter. Whatever the reason, Dev was certain that if he caused anything to happen to the Consortium troops, he would be in major trouble. His mind raced, trying to figure out a way into the zone.

  Suddenly, the door between sections hissed open and an electric Jeep drove through from the Red Zone side. Sergeant Wade was at the wheel, Dev’s uncle sitting alongside. They briefly stopped to talk to the guards.

  Dev ducked behind a tall pile of wooden packing crates, waiting until he heard the faint buzz of the approaching Jeep’s electric engine. No sooner had the thought arisen in his mind that he wanted to know what his uncle and Wade were discussing than the Jeep shot past.

  Dev instinctively pushed forward on the OmniBoard. He crouched low and reached out for the Jeep’s rear bumper. He snagged it – and felt his arms almost yanked from their sockets as he was pulled along. He ducked low enough that he wouldn’t be seen in Wade’s mirrors. Thanks to the low buzz of the engine, he could hear their conversation perfectly.

  “I have repeatedly told you how unhappy I am about using him. He shouldn’t even be involved,” said Wade in an angrier tone than Dev was used to hearing. She was usually so formal.

  “I don’t see what choice we have,” his uncle replied. “Shadow Helix is armed and dangerous. It’s just a matter of time before they cause a major incident.”

  Dev was surprised. If Tokyo wasn’t classed as a major incident, what was?

  “I agree,” said Wade. “But using him . . . that’s the real danger. Can we really trust him?”

  Dev frowned. Why wouldn’t they trust him? Dev was completely trustworthy . . . even though he had bypassed security to snoop in an area he wasn’t allowed to be in so he could spy on his uncle.

  Mostly trustworthy, he corrected himself.

  Charles Parker’s answer caught Dev by surprise. “Of course I don’t trust him. Wade, you make far too many assumptions. Stop treating him like a real person like you or me. He was made. A prototype. Nothing more than a biological gizmo like this lot.”

  Dev’s arms suddenly felt weak, and he let go of the Jeep as it turned to leave the Blue Zone. He rolled to a quick stop behind a six-storey row of shelves.

  His uncle had always been cool towards him, but those words cut like a knife to the heart. Dev could feel the tears rolling down his cheek. He’d heard it – a biological gizmo. The lowest of the low.

  He wiped the tears away and looked back the way they had come. The Red Zone held answers for him. And if they didn’t trust him, fine. Then he had no reason to feel guilty about not following their rules.

  He took a deep breath and wiped the last tear away. He was about to skate off when he suddenly heard his name. Nothing more than a whisper . . . or was it his imagination?

  No, there it was again. A muffled yet familiar whisper.

  “Dev. . .”

  He stepped closer to the shelves as his name was called again, a little louder.

  “Where are you?”

  “I am everywhere,” came the voice. Dev placed his hand on a crate it seemed to be coming from, and felt it gently vibrate. As in the classroom, the voice was being projected into the warehouse in a way he couldn’t understand. “You still seek answers, Dev.”

  “Yes.”

  “Your uncle is not the only person with answers.”

  “I suppose you are?”

  The voice gently laughed.

  “Of course, Dev. But there is somebody else you know who could help.”

  Dev frowned. “Who?”

  No answer came. Dev traced his hand along the crate; the wooden surface was no longer vibrating. The mysterious voice had vanished, but Dev suddenly knew who would have the answers he sought.

  Although he didn’t like it.

  Lot thought the noise was part of her dream . . . until she heard it again. Her eyes flicked open. The room was dark, but there was unmistakable movement in the shadows.

  Someone was in her room.

  She remained calm and waited for the intruder to make the first move. The figure leaned over her – and Lot allowed her instinct to kick in. She sprang from the bed, grabbing and twisting the figure’s arm. Quickly shifting her weight, she threw him over her shoulder. The intruder cried out in pain and smashed into her wardrobe.

  “Lot! Stop! It’s me!”

  She froze, recognizing the voice. She fumbled for the light switch and burst out laughing when she saw Dev, groaning, in the split halves of her wardrobe doors, a torn poster of Australia falling over his head.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked, pulling him up. “And look what you’ve done to my wardrobe! My dad’ll go nuts!”

  “I was trying to keep a low profile.”

  “Then why didn’t you phone?”

  “I don’t know how extensively we’re being watched. Phone calls can be recorded, traced – they can even pinpoint our exact location. I don’t want to leave a trail.”

  “Watched? By whom?”

  “My uncle, for one.”

  Lot frowned. “Wait, what’s going on?”

  Dev sat on the edge of the bed and gathered his thoughts. “My uncle is sending us out there to gather what was stolen. But he’s not preparing us properly, is he? It’s almost as if he doesn’t want us to succeed.”

  “That’s ridiculous,” said Lot, sitting beside him.

  “Is it? He’s not telling us everything. He knows who is behind the Newton’s Arrow attack and what’s inside that blue case. So why doesn’t he just say so? What are they hiding?”

  Lot still didn’t understand. Dev changed his approach.

  “Unlike you, I was created.”

  “To guard the Inventory.”

  “Yes, but I think there is more to it than that, and I need your help to find out what.”

  Lot felt a wave of sympathy. She could see how lost Dev looked. “Why don’t you simply sit down and ask your uncle?”

  Dev pulled a face. “He really doesn’t care. Trust me on that. I heard him talking to Wade. They don’t trust me. To him, I’m just another gizmo.” He almost didn’t get the words out. He calmed himself. “They don’t trust me, and I need answers.”

  He held up his phone. A 3D map floated ab
ove the screen, focusing on a small speck in the ocean. “Tartarus Prison. It belongs to the World Consortium, and they have somebody there I need to talk to.”

  Lot was horrified when she realized who he meant. “Ask Wade. Surely she would—”

  “I don’t trust her! This has to be done in secret. Please, I need your help.”

  Lot nodded. “OK. Have you told Mase yet?”

  Dev smiled. “Not yet. But I’m looking forward to sneaking in and scaring the poop out of him!”

  *

  It was the easiest thing in the world for Dev, Lot and Mason to walk back into the Inventory, even after midnight. Their security badges allowed them to enter the underground bunker, and because the cameras still confused Dev with Charles Parker, no alarm was raised over the fact that the three were entering restricted areas unescorted.

  Tricking the security into thinking Charles Parker was around also meant that they could pull items of equipment off the shelves, safe in the knowledge that no suspicions would be triggered by anybody watching a security monitor.

  Every so often Mason would apologize to Dev. “Mate, I’m really sorry.”

  Dev touched his black eye and refused to look at Mason. “It’s all right,” he said, stuffing items into the kitbag.

  “You really took me by surprise.”

  “It’s my fault for sneaking in. I should have phoned you.”

  Dev also tried to avoid Lot’s eye when she looked up from her phone.

  “Well, yeah,” Mason agreed. “That would’ve been better.”

  Dev zipped up the kitbag. “Now all we have to do is steal a ride.”

  This was the one aspect of the improvised plan that made Dev uncomfortable. The hangar was guarded at all times, and he had no desire to injure the poor Inventory crew stationed there. He just hoped they could be distracted for long enough.

  Nobody stopped them from entering the hangar; in fact, a couple of technicians nodded in greeting, even though Dev had never been introduced to them. Luckily, due to the late hour, there were only a few people scattered around the enormous space.

  The Avro sat in its dedicated space alongside the Eiodolon and several traditional helicopters used to ferry staff around. Unfortunately a uniformed guard stood in front of their aircraft.