Skyfall

by Anthony Eaton

  Janil reached out and made a small adjustment to the IR-gain and the scanner chattered new data straight back at him. He’s so good at this, Dernan Mann thought to himself. Better than I ever was.

  ‘Bone density?’

  ‘Acceptable, for a subject.’

  ‘Ocular sensitivity?’

  ‘Acceptable.’

  Watching Janil reminded Dernan Mann so much of himself at that age – young, brilliant, self-assured. But with Janil, of course, there’d always been something underneath. There’d always been the rage, the anger.

  ‘Muscle density?’

  ‘Acceptable.’

  ‘Good, then.’ Dernan signed off and pushed his interface aside. ‘Everything pretty much in the green. A textbook recovery.’

  For a couple of minutes the two men stood looking at the girl stretched out on the padded sleep mat.

  ‘It’s incredible, don’t you think, son?’

  ‘What is?’

  ‘Her. Finding her after all this time.’

  ‘It was always a possibility.’

  ‘But never a probability. You knew that as well as I did.’

  ‘We’d better get the inscan out of the chamber.’ Janil said.

  ‘And ourselves, too.’

  ‘We’ll be fine. It’s barely first shift. The sun’ll only just be above the low horizon. Besides, the suits should …’

  ‘These daysuits haven’t been used in years, Janil.’

  For a moment he thought his son was going to argue, but Janil clearly decided it wasn’t worth the bother. He was like his mother that way.

  ‘Fine, then.’ Janil picked up the inscan and headed for the lock. ‘Let’s go.’

  They’d left the inner door open. With nobody to monitor them from obs, it was the only safe way. With the two of them and the inscan, it was a tight squeeze. Once the gas exchangers had run down, Janil opened the outer hatch and they stepped into the locker room beyond.

  ‘Phew.’ Janil wasted no time pulling his helmet off. ‘Haven’t worn anything this heavy in a while.’

  ‘It’s better than the alternative.’

  ‘True.’

  They started removing their heavy, shielded daysuits, occasionally having to assist one another with the more bulky sections.

  ‘So what are we going to do with her?’

  Dernan threw Janil a sharp look.

  ‘You have to ask?’

  ‘I’m curious. Do you really think that’s the last great hope lying in there on the table? Are you prepared to throw your whole reputation away in a gamble on that … girl?’

  ‘It’s not a gamble if there’s no other option, Janil. It’s scientific logic. When you have no other course of action open to you, all you can do is take whatever path is presented. You of all people should know that.’

  ‘Our chances are slim though, you must admit.’

  ‘They’re better than they were yesterday.’

  ‘I guess.’ Janil looked unconvinced. ‘So what happens now? Do we make an announcement? Get the webbers in to record it all for posterity?’

  ‘Sky, no! The last thing we want is word of this getting out. If the citizens learn that we’ve got her, the next thing they’ll want to know is why. And that information …’

  ‘… would set the city on fire,’ Janil finished for him. ‘So what, then?’

  ‘I’ll tell the Prelate, right away. We’ll meet later today, I imagine, and sort out a plan of attack.’

  ‘Will I be involved?’

  ‘Of course.’

  By this time the two had made their way up the tight staircase into obs. Below, through the clearcrete windows, the girl lay on her white pedestal in the exposure chamber, looking like a darkened corpse. Dernan Mann crossed to the window and gazed down for a few seconds, then turned to face his elder son. There was no other way to do this and probably no better time, he decided.

  ‘I’ll also be bringing your brother into the project. As of today.’ For a moment Mann thought his son was going to laugh. Janil’s mouth twitched into a sort of half-smile, amused and slightly incredulous. His mother used to do the same thing. The smile quickly faded, though.

  ‘You’re joking, right?’

  ‘No, Janil.’ Mann shook his head. ‘At the same time as I inform the Prelate of our recovery of this subject, I’ll be requesting that she organise placement of Larinan to this project, to work with the two of us.’

  ‘That’s ridiculous. He doesn’t know the first thing about subgenetics. He doesn’t even like the field …’

  ‘Calm down, Janil. Of course I realise that Larinan hasn’t ever demonstrated an interest in our family’s field of expertise, but that doesn’t mean he won’t.’

  ‘I could find you a hundred allocation-level students better suited to this project than the copygen …’

  ‘This isn’t open to dabate, Janil.’ The rebuke stopped his son midsentence. He’d spoken more harshly than he’d intended, as always seemed to happen when he and Janil discussed Larinan. ‘Listen, son …’

  ‘Forget it, Father.’ Janil turned on his heel and strode out into the security lock which led from obs into the main project lab. ‘I’m not even interested, you know that? Do whatever you want.’

  Dernan sighed as he watched his son go. He’d hoped that perhaps, with the excitement of finding the subject, Janil would be a little more open-minded, but when it came to Larinan, Janil had a chip the size of central on his shoulder. It was times like this that Dernan Mann wished he still had Eyna here to talk to. She was always the one who was good with the boys; she seemed to know how they worked, how they thought. Dernan had spent far too many hours alone in his lab and now felt like he understood the Subjects better than his own sons. Even Janil, who’d taken up where Eyna had left off, followed him into the family field, worked alongside him for five years and who had a mind and intellect to rival his own, could turn into a stranger in the blink of an eye.

  Alone, Mann made his own way out of the lock, through the main lab towards his office. The lab was starting to bustle now, as project workers and analysts arrived and began firing up their various terminals and equipment. He ignored the curious stares that were directed his way when a couple of other scientists noticed him emerge from the little-used exposure chamber. He’d have to put out some misinformation to explain his and Janil’s presence in there for the near future.

  In his office, he stared out through the clearcrete, where the city was waking, glittering and coming to life. The domes were all dimming down for the day, reflecting the brightening blue of the sky as a shimmering blur. He could just make out his own dome, 3327 North, out to the west, standing well above the surrounding forest of stems, shafts and domes that made up the upper-middle layers. From down here, against the enormous blue, home looked tiny. The stem upon which his dome was perched seemed insubstantial, a thread of plascrete holding up a dome the size of a small town. It looked like it might blow away in the first strong wind.

  It wouldn’t, though. It was only angle and distance that made it appear so. Dernan Mann knew that the stem holding up 3327 North was as solid and unyielding as the rest of them – shielding power conduits, recyc piping and maglift shafts, just as they had for a millennium, since mankind had finally left the polluted, dangerous, flooded surface of the planet and taken to the air.

  But still, seen from this perspective it looked so very … fragile.

  It all did.

  It all was.

  Turning away from the window, Mann crossed to his desk. It took only a couple of moments to get through his coded access sequence and punch in the appropriate number.

  ‘Prelature.’ The voice was abrupt, busy, officious.

  ‘Can I have vis, please?’

  ‘Name?’

  ‘Doctor Dernan Mann.’

  There was a pause on the other end. Then his terminal flicked to life. The receptionist looked exactly the same as he sounded.

  ‘Doctor Mann, good morning. How may I be of as
sistance?’

  ‘I would like to speak to the Prelate, please.’

  ‘I’m afraid that’s quite impossible this morning, Doctor. The Prelate is extremely busy. I can book you a vid slot for tomorrow, second shift, or the following—’

  ‘You do know who I am, don’t you?’ Dernan cut the assistant off and directed his coldest, most detached glare into the terminal.

  ‘Of course, Doctor.’

  ‘Then I’m sure you realise that I wouldn’t simply call and demand to speak to the Prelate without a very good reason.’

  For a moment the man’s face was wracked with indecision. Then he clearly came to the conclusion that it was worth risking the wrath of the Prelate to avoid that of the head of DGAP.

  ‘I’ll put you through right away, Doctor.’

  ‘Thank you.’ Mann allowed the receptionist a tight smile before the screen flicked into a holding display for a few seconds, then the Prelate herself appeared.

  ‘Doctor Mann. To what do I owe the pleasure of such an early call?’

  ‘Good morning, Madam Prelate. Can I assume that this channel is secure?’

  ‘As secure as any com channel can be.’

  No, not necessarily, she meant. ‘In that case, I should like to speak to you personally at the first available opportunity, preferably here at DGAP.’

  ‘Is this important, Doctor? I’m afraid I have a very busy schedule today, and—’

  ‘Madam, how many times have I called you in the early hours of first shift and summoned you to DGAP?’

  For a long moment the Prelate stared though the terminal, with that famous gaze which made you feel as though your whole soul was on display.

  ‘I shall see you in a little over an hour, Doctor. Will that be sufficient?’

  ‘Perfectly, Prelate.’

  ‘Will that be all?’

  ‘Actually, I do have one more favour to ask. Would you be able to put in a request to the appropriate parties that my son Larinan be placed to my department, effective immediately?’

  The Prelate’s left eyebrow twitched slightly upwards.

  ‘That would be your youngest son?’

  ‘The same, Madam.’

  ‘Do you know, Doctor Mann’ – the old woman directed a cold smile at him – ‘I do believe that meeting you this morning might well turn out to be worth cancelling my appointments for. I shall see you soon.’

  The terminal went blank and Dernan Mann sat back in his chair.

  Now all he could do was wait.

  ‘About time.’

  ‘Sorry. The lift made a couple of stops.’

  ‘You having caf?’

  ‘No, I’m right. You go ahead.’

  Even though she was only thirteen, Kes’s caf intake was nothing short of prodigious. Lari watched his friend as she waved her order at the guy behind the counter.

  ‘How’s the Bean?’

  ‘Small. Noisy. Smelly. Same as always. He keeps Mum and Dad distracted, though, which is good for me.’

  ‘I’d have thought you’d be pleased to have a brother.’

  She made a noncommittal gesture.

  ‘I knew it had to happen eventually, but they waited so long I kind of got to hoping it wouldn’t. You know how it is.’

  ‘But why? Surely it’s a good thing? Genetic continuance for your family, and all that.’

  ‘And there speaks someone who’s never had to live in a mixed-use dome apartment with a screaming six-month-old baby.’

  ‘It can’t be that bad.’

  ‘You’ve seen our apartment, Lari. You know how small it is.’

  ‘Yeah, but so are babies.’

  ‘See – no idea. For something so tiny, they take up a skyload of space. Much more than the rest of us. But you wouldn’t know about that. Not too many three-roomers in your dome, I imagine.’

  ‘So, what’s this big adventure you’ve planned?’ When Kes got testy, the best thing was to change the subject. Sometimes it worked, sometimes it didn’t. This morning, Lari was lucky.

  ‘Later.’ She grinned. ‘You’ll have to see it to believe it.’

  Her caf arrived and she took a sip.

  ‘Urgh!’

  ‘Why do you drink it if you don’t like it?’

  ‘I do like it, but lately it’s been even worse than usual. Everyone’s complaining about it. They must have lowered the water quality protocols again.’

  ‘I haven’t noticed any difference.’

  ‘You wouldn’t.’

  ‘What’s that mean?’

  ‘You think the same protocols apply to your dome as ours?’

  ‘Of course they do.’

  ‘Rubbish.’

  ‘This is your father talking, isn’t it?’

  ‘Get off it, Lari.’ Her expression hardened. ‘This is common knowledge to anyone who doesn’t live with their head in the upper atmosphere. They’ve been lowering the protocol standards for mixed-use and lower-level domes for years. Dad reckons the difference in the water between when he was a boy and now is—’

  ‘I knew this was about your father.’

  ‘Don’t be smug. It’s about seeing what’s right before your eyes, Lari.’

  She gulped the rest of her caf in one hit and went over to the counter to pay. Lari shook his head. She was even more touchy than usual this morning.

  ‘You ready?’

  She leaned down to pick up her bag from the floor and a small pendant on a fine silver chain slipped from under the front of her blouse. It was shaped like two tiny sideways tridents, mirroring each other along a slightly curved spine with their points facing outwards, left and right. Only the middle tine of each fork was pointed; the outer ones curled elegantly back over themselves.

  ‘What’s that?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Your pendant? I’ve never seen it before.’

  A flash of alarm flickered briefly in his friend’s expression.

  ‘It’s nothing. A teacher gave it to me ages ago.’ She quickly tucked the pendant back into her blouse. ‘Come on, let’s go.’

  ‘Where’re we going?’

  ‘You’ll see.’

  They left the ref and headed towards the hub. The common was thronging with people making their way to and from the lower-level shops.

  ‘You’ll need to clear me,’ Kes told him.

  ‘Where to?’

  ‘Your dome.’

  ‘Why’d I have to come all the way over here if we’re only going back to my place?’

  ‘Just authorise me, okay?’

  There was a sort of excitement building in Kes which Lari didn’t trust. He’d seen her like this before and it usually spelt bad news for both of them.

  ‘What are you up to?’

  ‘Shi, Lari! Will you just trust me?’

  ‘Fine.’ He waved his wristband across the allocation plate.

  ‘Dome 3327 North, also authorising Anatale, Kesra.’

  The reader chimed, and Kes irritably flicked her wrist over the panel.

  There must have been a lift already at the hub, because their names came up on the allocation screen immediately.

  ‘That was quick!’ Lari commented.

  ‘The joys of upper-level priority,’ Kes muttered, as they walked straight past the grumbling queue.

  They entered the otherwise empty lift and settled into two seats.

  ‘Anyway,’ Kes continued as the lift dropped. ‘Today we need a lift to ourselves, so it’s all for the best.’

  After another couple of seconds the lift lurched as it made the transition into a horizontal shaft.

  ‘You ready?’ she asked.

  ‘For what?’

  ‘This. Controller,’ she said loudly up towards the roof, ‘engage program user interface.’

  Immediately the babble of the newspanel faded, to be replaced by the disembodied, electric voice of the lift control program.

  Program requires authorisation.

  ‘Authorisation Anatale. Password’ – she winked at La
ri – ‘Larinan.’

  For a moment there was no sound but the hum of the resonators, then:

  User interface protocols engaged.

  ‘What’s …’ Lari began, but Kes waved him to silence.

  ‘Computer, delog current vehicle allocation and reallocate to new destination.’

  State new destination.

  ‘Location 370 North.’

  Location 370 North is a restricted recreation facility. State authorising identity.

  Kes threw Lari an evil grin. ‘Mann, Janil.’

  Authorisation accepted. Previous destination delogged. Vehicle now inbound location 370 North.

  ‘Controller, end user interface program.’

  With a soft ‘click’ the newspanel glowed back into life and a couple of seconds later the lift slowed. Lari felt a gentle shudder as it reversed along its course.

  ‘What was that about?’ Lari demanded.

  ‘What do you think? My newest trick.’

  ‘Kes, what did you do?’

  ‘I found the user interface program the other day when I was having a look through the maglift systems. It’s basically for use by techies and security and a few high-ups in the Prelature.’

  Lari sighed. This was typical Kes. Where data systems were concerned, she just couldn’t stop herself.

  ‘Are you insane? Those systems must be restricted.’

  ‘Of course they are, but it was so easy! You wouldn’t believe how simple it was to break through.’

  ‘Kes, if they trace you

  ‘They won’t. I’ve put a program into the central maglift governor that automatically delogs any alterations I make through the interface. We can take lifts anywhere we want and nobody will ever know.’

  ‘Why’d you use my brother’s name?’

  ‘He’s an authorised identity on the interface. So’s your dad.’

  ‘How’d you know that?’

  ‘It’s all there if you know where to look, Lari. You wouldn’t believe the authority your dad has.’

  While they were talking, the lift entered a vertical shaft and dropped again, much further than Lari was used to.

  ‘We’re going a long way down.’

  ‘That’s not surprising,’ Kes replied. ‘Most of the restricted rec domes are in the lower levels. I’ve heard some of them are almost in the underworld.’