by Ralph Kern
“I’m going to get Reynolds,” Jack said simply.
“About goddamn time.” Grayson looked at the Marine with an intensity which belied his normal casual demeanor. “Want some company?”
“He comes in for questions. We’re going to arrest him, and then we’re going to get to the bottom of this. Do you understand what I’m saying? This is not one of your assassination missions for the SOG, and neither are you going to be beating anything out of anyone.”
“I’ve been waiting ten years for answers.” Grayson stood, a wolfish grin spreading across his face. “Trust me, he ain’t gonna die until I get them.”
“And not even then,” Jack clarified.
“It’s your show, Sergeant.”
“Then you’re off this ship for good, Captain.”
The grin slipped from Grayson’s face as he stood and tugged his jacket straight. “You need to know, Jack. These people, they’ll do whatever it takes. The question is, will you?”
“Let’s just go get this done.”
***
The scorching heat from fires on the HMS Sheffield. The smoky arcs of Sea Skua missiles slamming into the Iraqi fleet off Bubiyan Island. The thrust, parry, and riposte of Vortex politics. The debates in the corridors of power. For all of the violence and conflict in his past, he knew he had been on the side of right and good.
Reynolds tilted his head back, looking at the harsh LED lighting in his office. He’d never been particularly religious. Oh, he’d attended the church services as the pomp and ceremony of his career had dictated was proper. But he’d rarely felt any guiding light, and never less so than then since that day in a club in London when Wakefield had first approached him. How strange the twists and turns of life which had brought him from his childhood in Devon to here.
Yet here he was. The leader of a small enclave of humanity at the end of humanity’s road in a distant, hostile future.
Along with the man who had hunted him.
A three-tone chime came from the door.
A sense of impatience filled him. Not now. The endless litany of problems people approached his office with were going to give him an anxiety attack. They don’t bloody matter!
“Enter,” he said after taking a moment to compose himself. He affected a welcoming smile.
A strange combination of relief and foreboding filled him as Jack walked in. Then his heart missed a beat as Karl Grayson slid in behind.
***
Jack looked at the closed door. Hatches like this were the standard aboard the huge cruise ship, yet what was behind this one filled him with dread. When he went through it, everything would change. Since peace had fallen over the fleet, he had been the happiest he’d been in as long as he could remember. Certainly, since that day in Syria. He had purpose on the ship and he had a woman he loved. Life was good.
Or it had been.
Now, whatever happened, that woman was gone. She’d never trust him again and the fleet would never be the same.
He clenched his fist so hard his knuckles cracked. Then he pressed the door chime.
“Enter.”
The door slid open. Reynolds sat at the desk facing the door, his head cocked. He looked his normal confident self, like nothing ever phased him.
Jack entered, sensing Grayson coming in behind him.
The admiral’s expression changed. A look of curiosity then acceptance—and was that relief?—crossed Reynolds face.
“Sir,” Jack felt the words choke him. “If you would come with me please.”
“Can I ask what this is about, Jack?” Reynolds asked calmly.
“You’re being detained, sir.”
Reynolds nodded, his hands flat on the table. He slowly drew back his chair and straightened his tie as he stood. “Jack—”
“Don’t beg. Don’t plead. Don’t try and cajole.” Grayson stepped into the room. “It won’t work, none of it will. You’re under arrest and your ass is going into the clink. And you should be thankful of that fact. Because if I had my way—”
Reynolds locked his eyes on Jack, ignoring Grayson. “What happened—what’s happening here—is more complicated than you know. What he’s told you is probably right. As far as it goes, but it’s not the full story.”
“It’s enough of the story that I know you need to come with us.”
Reynolds walked around the desk and took Jack’s arm, his grip feverishly earnest. “Laurie doesn’t know anything, Jack. If you believe anything I say, believe that.”
Jack forced down the desire to talk, to engage him in conversation to beg him to say Grayson was wrong. Instead he turned and gestured at the door. “This way please, sir.”
***
His jaw was clenched so hard it ached. He pulled the headphones off and tossed them on the desk. The bug he had planted weeks ago in Reynolds’s office had given him great insight into fleet and Anchorage politics. It had let him know things, given him information and, on occasion, a valuable heads-up. Like now.
“Bring up the schedule. We need to get the hell out of here,” Wakefield growled at his captain and head of security.
“We’re still loading up.” Richard Hogarth winced. “We’ve got to presume we’re going to be blown any minute now. If Ignatius—”
“Richard, I paid Reynolds for the very best equipment and the very best weapons for the Osiris precisely so we would be able to beat anything we found here when we came through,” Wakefield said. “You do what you need to do to get us away.”
“Yes, sir.” Hogarth swallowed.
“And as for you...” Wakefield looked at Creighton, who stood patiently by the door, his arms folded. “You defend this ship. Understood?”
“Completely, boss.”
***
“No one speaks to him. Understood?” Jack pointed at Grayson. “Especially not him. Yet.”
The security officers nodded and took position outside the cell. They were confused, having seen who had been brought in, but Jack had simply shook his head to the questions, merely responding with, “Later.”
“You, back in the security center,” Jack addressed the assassin. He didn’t trust for a moment the man wouldn’t try to complete his ten-million-year-old mission. “We’ll get you when we need you.”
Grayson held his hands up in acquiescence and gave one of the men Jack had assigned as a minder a pat on the arm. “Let’s go.”
Only one more thing to do.
Jack’s pace was purposeful but his mind was in a daze as he walked back through Route 66, the central corridor which threaded through the crew areas of the ship with two more of his officers. He reached the staff elevators and took one to the deck where Laurie’s suite was.
Their suite.
He paused outside the hatch. He’d just arrested the father of the woman he’d grown to love. The woman who had come to see past his injury and disability.
Nothing would be the same for him again.
He opened the hatch.
She lay curled on the settee, wearing a flannel dressing gown. Her dark hair was still wet from a shower. She was normally so careful to dry and straighten it. His heart gave a tug as she looked up at him, a drowsy but warm smile on her face.
“Come here.” She reached out toward him, then paused as she saw the two officers behind him. “What’s the matter?”
He looked down, unable to maintain eye contact with her. “We’ve had to arrest your father.”
“What?!” She pushed herself up into a sitting position, a confused look crossing her face. “What do you mean, arrest my father?”
“And you are going to be confined to quarters.” Jack said, his throat tight. “Please do not try and leave or—”
“What’s going on, Jack?” She stood, walking toward him. Jack backed away, holding his hand up to ward her away.
“Or communicate with anyone. Your phone and internet connections will be disabled.” He reached the door.
“Jack?”
He shook his head, and he
felt his voice choking for the first time in years. “You’ll be spoken to in due course.”
“Jack, tell me what’s going on?” She sounded petrified.
God all he wanted to do was go to her. To hold her.
Instead, he fled the room.
He slammed the door shut and he pressed his master key card to the lock, securing it from the outside.
He let the rapid beating of his broken heart subside before turning to the officers. “No one speaks to her without my permission. Not Kendricks, not Slater, and certainly not Grayson. Understood?”
Chapter Thirty-Nine – The Present
The harshly lit, sparsely appointed brig was nestled deep in the bowels of Atlantica next to the security center.
Kendricks’s nose twitched at the smell of bleach permeating through the brig as he stood looking down at the security console showing images from the CCTV cameras within the four cells. Normally, they contained nothing more than the odd drunk or someone who had decided to settle their differences in one of the bars with their fists. They were never intended to be a jail, just to be used until someone could pick up the occupants and take them into proper custody.
Now, only one of the sparse cells was occupied.
Reynolds sat on the bed, his hands clasped in his lap, staring directly at the door. Kendricks tried to discern what the man must be thinking. What he must be feeling. He didn’t look confused or angry, instead he just looked resigned.
An hour ago, he had been one of the most powerful men in this new world. He had been “the Admiral”, a title which had become synonymous with President in their new nautically based society. He had been Kendricks’s mentor, whispering many a quiet and calming word in his ear to keep him on track in those tumultuous first few weeks. But now, he was confined to four square walls with enough damning evidence to keep him there forever.
Jack sat at the console. Kendricks could see his world had come crashing down around him. He had been a hero of Atlantica, along with Laurie, the couple a symbol that they could make this strange new world work. Hell, they were the closest thing to a celebrity couple on the ship.
Only now that had all come to an end, too.
“Jack,” Kendricks said gently. “You know my view. I prefer her down here.”
“Captain, I appreciate that. But she could be an innocent witness. Grayson said he never found anything to implicate her.” He pointed at the closed cell door. “And the only protest the Admiral gave was that she doesn’t know anything.”
“I still don’t like it. But I don’t have dogs and then do my own barking. You’re the head of security. It’s your call,” Kendricks said. “Just don’t make me regret it.”
“People need to stop referring to me as a dog,” Jack retorted sharply and without humor as he glared at him with tired, bloodshot eyes. Kendricks frowned, not knowing what he was referring to.
The heavy security door rumbled open before Kendricks had decided whether to give his own comeback or an apology.
“Gentlemen. I find myself coming back and forth to Atlantica more than I go to the head.” Slater swept into the room. “What’s he said?”
“Nothing yet,” Kendricks replied, gesturing at the monitor. “We had just been discussing whether to bring Grayson in on this. As much as I want nothing to do with the man, he’s been involved since the start.”
Slater rubbed her jaw as she contemplated the CCTV image. The thought of even beginning to trust the man clearly weighing on her heavily.
“Ma’am, there is another question which needs to be asked, as well.” Jack stood. “If we take Grayson’s story at face value, then Wakefield’s project was known about at the highest levels. Someone authorized arresting his boss and scrambling fighters to attack his team. So we need to ask, straight out—what do you know about whatever’s going on, Captain?”
Slater turned slightly, raising her eyebrow. “Sergeant Cohen, your question is a sensible one, so I won’t take it as a personal insult. I am, however, wondering if Grayson’s intention is to sow discord and mistrust throughout the fleet—”
“Ma’am,” Jack pressed.
“No, no I haven’t heard anything. No rumors, no scuttlebutt in the captains’ messes in port, nothing,” Slater replied with a sigh. “If this is some kind of military conspiracy then it’s damn well managed. And let me tell you, from the best part of twenty years in the Navy, we don’t do secrets nearly as well as we’d like. Whoever this was, it wasn’t us.”
Jack nodded.
“Look, we can sit around hypothesizing till the cows come home.” Kendricks gestured at Reynolds’s cell door. “Or we can just go ask him.”
Jack nodded and leaned forward, pressing a button on the console. The door slid open, revealing Reynolds in person.
The admiral stared at the floor, not looking up as the three entered his cell.
“My daughter?” His words were clipped, concise.
“Is confined to quarters,” Jack said. “She’ll be well cared for. I promise.”
“I’m sorry.” Reynolds lifted his head and looked at them. “This must be tough for you.”
Kendricks could see the admiral’s eyes were red-rimmed, the tendons in his neck protruding. He felt that sickening feeling in his stomach. This man had meant everything to the fleet. He was Kendricks’s mentor, someone Slater admired, and had taken Jack into his family. But it had all been based on lies and conspiracy.
Fucking lies! Kendricks felt a surge of rage.
“Why?” Kendricks couldn’t trust himself to say more.
“You know why,” Reynolds’s voice was firm. “Humanity’s days were numbered.”
“We have lies upon lies, Admiral,” Slater said coldly. “How do we know what’s even the truth anymore?”
“It was,” Reynolds replied. “I was shown the raw information. I saw a telescope image of the damn thing. A big hunk of icy rock was coming and it was going to kill us all.”
“Then why hide it. Why not tell everyone?”
“Because we couldn’t save everyone,” Reynolds said quietly, insistently. “The comet, Perses, was too big and was coming in too fast. We could have thrown every nuke we had at it, and all we’d have accomplished would have been to turn it from a cannonball into a shotgun blast. Either way, we’d have been just as dead.”
“So, you thought the only option was to side step it,” Kendricks said. “Like Wakefield said.”
“He didn’t tell you everything though,” Reynolds said in little more than a whisper. “I’m not a physicist, but I knew the Locus had to be triggered at a specific time and set of locations. Also, there would be side effects. Significant ones.”
“Side effects?” Kendricks pressed. For some reason he felt like a child before a teacher.
“The Locus would be triggered at a number of locations around the world. Simultaneously. A vast chunk of the Earth’s seas would suddenly cease to exist in 2024 and reappear now.” Reynolds tilted his head back, closing his eyes. “You tell me, what effect do you think suddenly shifting trillions of tons of water and atmosphere would have?”
“My God.” Kendricks felt himself go lightheaded. The implications had never occurred to him. Or he hadn’t wanted them to, so he had ignored them. From the shocked looks around the cell, they had all felt the same. He reached out, feeling for the bulkhead.
“Tsunamis.” Reynolds stood and reached forward, gripping Kendricks’s arm with fierce strength. “Storms, devastation. More than half of people in the world live within thirty miles of the coast. And the Loci were being triggered all over the globe. Every ocean affected at the same time. It would have been a deluge of biblical proportions.”
“No,” Slater breathed. “My husband, my daughter... they were at Mayport.”
Her eyes went wide, staring, flicking around the cell. A panicked look crossing her face. “Wakefield said they had years. Decades. That they could at least live a little.”
“I’m sorry.” Reynolds voice cracked. A tear
rolled down his cheek, his next words a rush. “I tried to get them to give a warning. I did what I could. Whichever way I turned I was being watched. Monitored. I wanted them to stop. I had a note delivered to Thames House. To the Secret Intelligence Service, in the hope that they would somehow slow it down. I don’t even know what my intention was in that. Maybe just to give people a chance to get to safety. I’m guessing that’s why they sent Grayson after us. From that tip off.”
“Who. Are. They?” Slater refocused, her voice a snarl. “Wakefield? Who else?”
“Does it matter?” Reynolds whispered.
“Yes,” Slater snarled. “Grayson said powerful people were pulling the strings. They were able to manipulate the military, they must have also manipulated the scientific community and media to hide the fact Perses was going to hit. I want to know who they are because I don’t believe for a moment they didn’t come through the Locus, too.”
Reynolds looked up, past Kendricks, past Slater and Jack. Kendricks followed his gaze, seeing it aimed at the small black dome of the CCTV camera hanging unobtrusively in the corner. “If I tell you, I might put you all at risk.”
“I think we’re a little beyond that now.” Kendricks brought his gaze back to Reynolds. “Tell us. Do the decent thing for once in your life.”
“For once in my life? For once in my life?” Reynolds angrily stood, then deflated just as rapidly, slumping back down to the bunk. “I’ve done nothing but serve my country and now my species. Even after Helena was taken from me by that drink-driving bastard.”
He cupped his face in his hands, his shoulders rocking. Kendricks felt a sudden surge of sympathy for him.
“I can’t,” Reynolds said, his voice muffled. “You wouldn’t believe me anyway.”
Slater seemed to grow in the room, her wrath evident despite Reynolds’s self-pity. For a moment, Kendricks thought she was going to reach for the old man with her bare hands. To strike him. “Didn’t you hear me? My daughter was in Mayport. You killed her. Now you’ll tell me everything you know.”
An insistent buzzing filled the room. For a moment, it looked as if it Slater would ignore the phone in her pocket. Then she pulled it out and said in a cool voice, belying the fury on her face, “Captain Slater.”
