by RF Hurteau
Ripley was nodding. “Then what happened?” he asked, excitedly. He was fascinated by Ambrose and eager to hear everything the man had to say.
“I don't know how long I was unconscious, but when I came to, I started looking for shelter. I found my way in here and used some old crates to make a fire. There was plenty to keep me warm for a while, but I knew it wouldn't be enough. So, I kept looking. But they’d sealed everything off, see? I'd started to give up hope after three or four days, when I heard noises. Banging and hissing. I followed the sound and found Tobias just breaking through the outer wall of the bulkhead you just came through. I tell you, the sight of his face peering out at me, blowtorch in hand and white-hot metal laying in the snow—I'll never forget that sight. Most beautiful thing I've ever seen. I could tell I was inside one of the domes, you see. But there were no people, and I was beginning to think I was too late."
"Too late for what?" Felix asked.
Ambrose frowned. "To warn you," he said.
Tobias had regained his dignity and sat down next to Ambrose. "Everything we've ever been taught about Sanctuary is a lie," he stated, his voice lowering to a conspiratorial whisper. "The Therans didn't save us from the Sequencing. They created the Sequencing. On purpose! They were trying to wipe us out."
"Only it didn't work," Ambrose said. "It crippled us, sure. Threw us back into the dark ages. The problem was, it didn't kill nearly as many of us as they'd hoped. For a long time, survivors assumed that they'd given up and retreated back through Antiquity's Gate, to wherever they came from. But fifty years ago, Pravacordia—that's where I'm from—developed long range radio towers. We started picking up strange transmissions, but everything was garbled. We worked with a neighboring nation to put up more towers, out at sea. Eventually we figured out we were picking up transmissions that the Elves were sending. They hadn't gone back through Antiquity's Gate at all. They were here, in Antarctica, communicating via the Gate with those back on their own home world."
"But I thought the Elves built this place," interjected Felix. "With the Humans, to save the survivors. We were taught that they developed a vaccine against the Sequencing, but it only worked on them. That they cured themselves and brought the rest of Humanity here. They said if we ever left this place, all the Humans could be infected because the Sequencing can stay dormant in the soil for centuries."
"More lies," said Tobias. "They didn't build this place. You see, when Antiquity's Gate was first discovered, near a base called McDonald's—"
"McMurdo," corrected Ambrose.
"Right. Near a base called McMurdo—all the world powers wanted to get involved. At first, it resulted in a lot of tension. But then the first contingent of Therans came through, and suddenly, the conflicts between nations seemed petty. They signed an unprecedented world peace accord. Every nation sent their best and their brightest. They constructed this place, which we now know as Sanctuary, to house all the teams and their families, all the people who'd come to study Antiquity's Gate, and the Elves. And of course, the teams had teams, because out here in the waste there wasn't any food or anything like that. They had to bring cooks and engineers and doctors and—well, you get the idea. Sanctuary wasn't just a little base anymore. It was a self-contained city.
"The Therans came under a banner of peace. But that was just a ploy. They knew they couldn't march armies through the Gate, because if they tried, we would fight back. It would be like trying to send an army through a small ravine… only a few soldiers at a time could get through, so it would be easy to pick them off. And a lot of their technology wouldn’t fit through, either, or couldn’t function in the cold. But they could bring through a small weapon, something no one would be able to see. Something no one would notice until it was too late."
"The Sequencing," breathed Ripley quietly.
Ambrose nodded. "Over the years, the Pravacordians have collected a lot of intelligence listening in on the Elves. Between that and what we've been able to piece together from oral tradition, we believe that the Elves were able to overpower the surviving members of the expedition here. They slaughtered all the adults, and founded the Scientific Institute of Guided Instruction and Learning. Or Sigil, as you call it."
"They kept the kids around. They fed them all the stories that we've grown up on," Tobias said, his tone bitter now. "It's been about indoctrination the whole time. They needed sympathizers, workers, to help them accomplish what they didn't have the numbers to do themselves."
Ambrose leaned forward over his empty cup. "Which brings us to what I came to warn you about," he said, solemnly. "A few months ago, we picked up a transmission saying that they were going to abort the Sigil initiative. They figured something out back on their home world. They were getting ready to regroup."
"What does that mean, exactly?" asked Ripley, a sick feeling in his stomach that had nothing to do with his injuries.
"It means the Elves are planning to destroy this place,” said Tobias. "And they're planning to do it right after the Anniversary."
ten
The Truth Within
There was a great grinding sound that Nelson felt more than heard—it reverberated to his very core, jolting him awake. What’s going on out there? he wondered, pressing himself upward to peer through the window. All he could see was the wall. How long was I asleep? He glanced down to look at his watch. He’d been out for about an hour. He cursed silently, rolling his shoulders, then his neck, which were both stiff from being stuck in the tight confines of the pod. There was plenty of time before his speech, assuming he could get out of here without getting caught. Did he dare chance a look outside?
He decided he did dare. Holding his breath, he grasped the handle of the hatch and pushed, ever so slowly. As the seal broke, a flood of voices assailed him, and he shrank back. The rumbling abruptly stopped, and Nelson looked up, out of the pod’s only window, and saw shadows on the wall of the storage room. One after another they passed, dozens of them. He realized with a start that they must be going out the door he had tried to open earlier. He waited a few minutes after the last shadow disappeared and steeled himself to try again. But the rumble returned, and he felt the familiar sensation of upward motion. This is it, he thought excitedly. The room is moving, just like Ben said! It just went down, and now it’s going back up! He cursed his rotten luck. He’d missed his chance! He was halfway out of the pod before the room came to a halt.
He heard the door of the storage area open and ducked down once more. There were more voices. Some seemed to be giving instructions, others spoke in anxious, high-pitched tones.
“I don’t understand. Why are we doing this?” demanded a female voice.
“Please remain calm. Go all the way in. That’s right. You’ll be accompanied by a guard the whole way, so there’s no reason to panic. Everything will be explained.”
“What about my son? He was at the celebration. He wanted to hear the speeches!” This was a man’s voice, worried and upset.
“I assure you that all Theran inhabitants will be noted and accounted for. You may wait for your son, if you desire, but I must ask you to please wait by the exit. Please, keep the line moving. Thank you.”
The exit? What are they talking about?
“Yes? What is it?” demanded the voice that had been issuing instructions. There was no answer. “What do you mean, immediately? I’m trying to organize everything here. We’ve only just started, I can’t—” A pause. “You’re right, of course, Councilor. My apologies. I will be there straight away.”
The voice, whoever it was, must have been speaking on a comm. A moment later it boomed out. “You there! Congratulations, you’re now acting Head of Security. I have other business to attend to.”
“But, Captain Lub, sir—”
“It’s not that difficult, just keep them moving and make sure those fools in the office are keeping careful track. We don’t want anyone left behind.”
“Left behind?” Nelson whispered the words aloud without me
aning to. Just what had he meant, left behind? Left behind where? There were heavy footfalls as Captain Lub moved away. The newly promoted voice took over now. “Right then, what are you all goggling at? Keep it moving, there we are!”
Nelson sat in trepidation as the room filled, went down, emptied, and repeated. At first, he tried to count the shadows as they passed, but he soon gave up. Despite quite a few angry or confused voices, the process seemed to be going fairly smoothly. Nelson was now so badly cramped that his muscles were screaming at him, but he didn’t dare stretch, for fear someone might catch a glimpse of him through the pod’s window. He listened intently to the conversations, but was unable to hear anything he deemed useful. The room rose and fell six or seven times before a voice said, “Hold up. There’s some kind of disturbance up top. We’ve been instructed to discontinue the operation until they sort things out.”
Nelson waited a few minutes, then pushed the hatch all the way open and climbed out. The door that had previously barred him from venturing further now stood open. He approached it from the side, slowly peeking beyond. No one was there. A long corridor, no different than any other in Sigil, stretched out before him. There was nowhere to hide—if they came back this way, they’d see him for sure. Still, there didn’t seem to be too many options. He entered the hall, walking as briskly as he could. Perhaps, if he was caught, he could bluff his way out. He was a good talker, after all.
At the end of the passageway was a door. A plaque on the lintel read “CEDAR” and it stood ajar. He pushed it open, his breath hitching in his throat as he half-expected to come face-to-face with one of the many people he’d heard in the lift. But again, he met with no resistance.
Nelson stepped into the room, and all other thoughts drained away. Before him, to both sides, stretching up to a three-story ceiling, there were pods. Stacked high, and in rows so deep he couldn’t see the walls beyond. Thousands upon thousands of pods. “Sweet Evenmire,” he whispered softly. “What on Earth…?” He walked along the rows, no longer trying to be stealthy. His steps echoed in the cavernous space as his hand trailed along the fronts of the pods. There were some shaped like rockets, like the one he had hid in. There were some that were little more than a tall glass cylinder with a touchscreen on the front. Some had wires and tubes dangling inside, and some were completely made of metal. Some were configured to stand up, and some seemed made to lay horizontally. His eyes travelled along the rows ahead of him, and he noticed several dozen that appeared to be in operation, clustered near the center of the room. He approached hesitantly, something in his gut telling him not to. He ignored the something, stepping up to the closest pod.
Several lights blinked on its display panel, and an eerie green glow radiated from the single glass view pane that dominated one side. He raised himself on his tiptoes and peered through, then reeled back, retching.
There was…something…inside the pod. Something small, the size of an infant, but most certainly not a baby. It was grotesque, deformed. His heart raced. What was that thing? A part of him wanted to look again, but most of him wanted to run as far and as fast as he could. Whatever it was, it wasn’t natural, wasn’t right. He looked with horrified fascination at the other pods, all beeping innocently, lights indicating that they were on. How many of them contained tiny monsters of their own?
There was a sound behind him, and Nelson didn’t have time to think. He ducked between the humming pods, shielding his body from view. He put his hand over his mouth as he gagged again, thinking about how close he was to that, that…thing.
As he worked to calm his mind, he saw movement. He got low to the ground, working his way slowly to the edge of the cluster of pods, so that he could see better. He watched as dozens of flustered-looking Elves filed past. A few, mostly the younger ones, glanced around at the pods with confusion. But most looked straight ahead, and he followed their gazes toward the opposite end of the massive room. There was another door there, a tall, wide double door that stood open, beyond which he couldn’t see. The Elves came in groups, maybe forty or fifty at a time; he couldn’t be sure. Then there would be a few minutes pause before another group, then another, would pass by. Nelson knew he was witnessing some sort of mass exodus, but from what, or to where, he wasn’t sure. Was it possible that the riot had started, and the Elves were gathering down here to wait it out? No, that hardly seemed logical. But then, what? Just what was going on down here?
Nelson tried to remember back to his school days, when he’d learned about the population of Sanctuary. Just how many Therans were there, again? It wasn’t that many. Two thousand or so, if he was remembering correctly. He’d been trapped in the pod in the moving room for maybe seven of these groups. And since he’d been down here, at least another ten had gone by. That would mean that nearly half of the Elven population was down here already, and they showed no signs of stopping. But where were they all? Each group disappeared through the large double door, but none had returned. He thought back to what he’d heard the Security guard say about the exit. But he couldn’t possibly have meant, surely not…
As the current group of Elves filed through the door and out of sight, Nelson made another impulsive decision. He stood up, glanced around quickly, and followed. He peered down the dim passage and saw them up ahead. Not wanting to get caught by the next group, he started after them, sticking to the shadows along the edges of the hall. They walked for a long time, and Nelson noticed that they were following a very gentle incline. He also noticed that it was getting colder and colder the farther they went. It seemed to him as though they’d walked much farther than the dome ought to have extended, but his mind still refused to believe what his heart was telling him. He was arguing with himself. It’s just like the Tube tracks, he insisted to the whispers in his head. It’s just going between domes, that’s all.
The Elves walked quickly, and he soon found himself sweating from exertion. But he didn’t feel overheated. Instead, he felt colder than ever before. He began to shiver, and his teeth began to chatter. He was thirsty, and tired, and he just wanted to rest. But if he turned around, he’d run into more Elves, and there hadn’t been a single door to the left or right through which he could escape. He had no choice but to push forward.
All at once, a gust of chilling wind that nearly toppled Nelson backward rushed down the corridor. He had never felt the wind before, and the sensation was rather disorientating. He jogged forward a bit, and confirmed what he had been telling himself was impossible the whole time.
He’d reached the end of the journey. Before him, through a door that had not yet shut, he glimpsed the faint outline of Antiquity’s Gate, glowing softly in the darkness, just barely illuminating the surging mass of Elves that streamed toward it.
He didn’t know how long he stood in the cold, shivering and staring at the door that had long since swung shut. He could still see it, right there in his mind’s eye, pulsing eerily. When he heard the sounds of people approaching, he looked around wildly for a place to hide.
There was none.
Gulping audibly, he stepped forward, and swung open the door.
The cold seemed to soak through his skin like water, engulfing him. Breathing hurt, and his eyes stung. He squinted around in the darkness. There had to be somewhere to hide! Anywhere!
He looked behind him, back at the door. It came out of the side of a small hill, and to either side, a decorative pillar rose up. With a start, he realized it was a crude imitation of the Gate itself. But there was no time to critique the poor work of the artist, only time to move. He scooted around the side of the pillar and wedged himself behind it, just in time. The next group of Elves had stepped out of the door, gasping and groaning in response to the cold.
Nelson huddled there, sheltered from the wind but unable to find any respite from the frigid air. He pulled his shirt up over his nose and stuffed his hands under his arms, sinking down so that he could draw his legs up against his chest. He knew that, if he survived the next little whil
e, it would be the most painful thing he had ever done. He squeezed his eyes shut and listened for the sound of the door. He listened to it open and shut as each group filed through. It seemed to Nelson as though they were taking their time about it. Each group seemed to take longer than the last. He counted them in his mind. He counted as his forehead grew numb, and the mucus dripping from his nose froze to his face. He counted as his feet seemed to disappear from his legs. He counted as his teeth ceased to chatter, and he began to feel warm again. Warm, and sleepy.
Nelson jumped up as he realized what was happening. How many had come through? It could have been the last of them, but there was no way to be sure. But he knew that he wouldn’t last much longer out here, and decided then that he’d rather take his chances inside. He stepped out from behind the column, wobbling unsteadily. The thin, traction-less soles of his shoes were ill-designed for the terrain, and Nelson let out a gasp of surprise as he felt his foot slide out from under him. He fell onto his back, knocking the air from his lungs, and his mouth opened and closed, gulping in the icy air, burning his chest. Closing his eyes as he caught his breath, Nelson flipped himself over, rising to his hands and knees, too winded to stand.
Suddenly, two strong arms reached under Nelson’s armpits, pulling him up to stand. “You shouldn’t be here,” said a gruff voice. He grabbed at his assailant blindly, but the other man was too strong. He dragged Nelson, flailing and kicking, back through the door and into the long passage.
“Stop fighting,” the voice said again, dropping Nelson into a heap onto the floor. Compared to the outside, the corridor felt almost warm. “You’re just wasting your energy. You’ll need your strength.”
