Gateway Through Time

by David Kernot

  Emerson nodded.

  "Password's USS Enterprise—no spaces and three not e."

  "Seriously? You're so old-school, Myles."

  Myles laughed, "Nobody can get through the layers of my security protocols."

  Emerson believed him, Myles took computer security seriously.

  Emerson's throat tightened, and he swallowed a few times. He stepped away from Myles to get some privacy. Even though he'd used it to capture Dimples' crime scene, he had vowed he wouldn't use his arm again. It was a tool of the military, but this was important. He moved his good hand over the cyber implant of his left arm. The screen came to life and basked him in an orange glow.

  Emerson entered a password and then leaned in so he could provide a retinal imprint and connect via a highly secure encrypted sub net within the dark web.

  "Sweet," whispered Myles from across the room.

  Emerson typed in some search terms into the NSA's intranet search and waited. Stirling North was a bit off the map, so if anything had occurred around town involving Shudde-M'ell and his group of Chthonian, it'd come up.

  It took a moment for two reports to surface. One was a HUMINT report from the Horn, where one of the local sources had mentioned Stirling North. It was probably nothing, but the other caught Emerson's eye. A local police report from the Stirling North police sergeant was cited as seeing strange creatures out by the lead mine. By the description they were Chthonian. There was nothing else in the report, but an NSA analyst had added a comment against the report. Emerson opened it and read the one word response. All it said was Coltan. Emerson logged out and shut down the display.

  "Thanks, Myles."

  "Well?"

  "What do you know about Coltan?"

  Myles frowned and shook his head. He leaned forward and typed on his computer.

  "Coltan is short for columbite-tantalite, otherwise known as tantalite. It's a dull black metallic ore, and tantalum is manufactured from it for capacitors and consumer goods. Coltan mining has been used to finance serious conflict in the Democratic Republic of the Congo." Myles looked up. "Does that help?"

  Emerson nodded, and he wondered if that's what had been on Amye's kitchen floor.

  "Finance serious conflict…" said Myles. "Does that mean what I think it does?"

  Emerson nodded again. "I think I know what they are doing here."

  "They?" Myles frowned. "No, wait, don't tell me."

  Emerson swallowed. If the Chthonian were mining under Stirling North to fund Shudde-M'ell's organization, then it needed to stop. Damien had to be involved. He had to be.

  "Emerson, what are you going to do?"

  "I didn't think you wanted to know."

  "I know," said Myles, "but someone's got to look out for you."

  "Okay then, but only because you asked. I will stop them."

  "The terrorists?"

  "Yes."

  Myles was silent for a long time before he spoke. "You've changed Emerson, you're not the same man who left and joined the army."

  "I'm the same person, Myles, I just had time to think about what's important."

  "And?"

  You wouldn't have a private account somewhere I could store some data?

  "Sure, why? No, don't tell me!" He logged in.

  "Whatever it is, I don't want to know."

  "I understand, but things might get tough for you."

  "It's fine. Download whatever you need. Your secret is safe with me."

  Emerson downloaded the entire contents of his cyber arm to Myles' account, including the G'harne Fragments. The complete deciphered text, yet unread by any human. There would be time for that later, after he had spoken to Amye. "Don't let anyone see this! Nobody. If I die, keep it hidden"

  "You will not die."

  "Just keep it hidden. Can you?"

  "Yes. What else?" said Myles, blowing out from his cheeks.

  "I will check out the lead mines. Want to drive me out there?"

  "Sure." Myles stood up. "Just let me get dressed."

  ◆◆◆

  "Drive in slow, and quietly, in case there are people there," said Emerson as they approached the gates to the mine out on the edge of town. It was true they could have walked. Not that far, but Emerson wanted to get there quickly, and see what had been going on. He had no way of knowing if there would be anyone there.

  "What are we going to do when we get to the mine?" asked Myles

  "We?" said Emerson.

  "Yes." Myles nodded.

  "You will hide the car and stay out of sight until I'm done."

  Myles frowned. "Don't you think you'll need some help?"

  "No," Emerson shook his head. "Why is that?"

  "Well, you know you're missing an arm."

  "It works just fine," lied Emerson. Either way, the report that he had read might come to nothing. The mine would be abandoned.

  "What do you expect to find?" asked Myles. He pulled up near an old dilapidated shed that marked the mine's entrance.

  "I don't know. Lead. Coltan. Tantalum." He turned and faced Myles. "Monsters," he said. The attempt at humour helped settle the butterflies that circled in his stomach. He pushed open the door and stepped from the car and listened, but everything seemed calm. A few crows called out in the distance. He closed the door and whispered to Myles through the open window. "Whatever happens, stay out of sight, and don't under any circumstance come in."

  "Ok," said Myles, but he shook his head. "I have a terrible feeling about this."

  "How?"

  Myles shrugged. "The chains on the shed door have been unthreaded. It's unlocked. It's never that way."

  Emerson stepped away from the car so he could see the front of the small shed. It was true. "Could mean anything," he said, but Myles was right, the area had a bad feel about it, and an itch ran along Emerson's back. "I'll be back in an hour, tops."

  Emerson crept over to the shed and moved the chain and a discarded brass lock half buried in the red soil with his foot. He heard Myles drive away slowly. Myles would park a hundred meters away under that small copse of trees. The car's engine went quiet, and all Emerson could hear was the cawing of the crows again. He studied the cloudless sky and wondered what he was doing out here. He pulled the shed door open and peered inside. Cool air swam out and pressed against his face. It smelled fresh, and he couldn't hear anything unusual, no voices or unexplained sounds. He stepped inside and pulled the door closed behind him. The dim light was barely enough to see the large, square cut entrance into the side of the hill. Emerson strode into the darkness until the light behind him faded. He stopped, stood once again and listened, but he couldn't hear anything. It was likely the walls would muffle any sound. He cursed for not thinking about bringing a torch and turned on the cyber tech screen of his arm. The soft orange light ebbed across the wide tunnel.

  He crept down the tunnel, and it opened up into a great cavern. Eight other tunnels spiralled out of the central cavern in a wagon wheel array. Emerson stopped near the edge and stepped forward, but he heard movement and stopped as a chthonian stepped from a far tunnel.

  The blue glow of the creature was followed by another. He crouched down and covered his tech. He turned the device off so that the light vanished. Another chthonian, and another passed through the tunnels ahead of him, twenty or thirty followed in a blur. The report had been right.

  He waited until they had gone and then turned on his tech and pulled down his shirt until the light was barely visible. Enough for him to navigate across the cavern and into the tunnel behind the Chthonian.

  Ahead, the tunnel opened up again into a series of larger caverns. They were all there, ten Chthonian, circling a tall creature in the middle. Emerson had never met Shudde-M'ell before, but he had seen imagery of the terrorist while he had worked out on the Horn. The vile creature was here, and it had something to do with Damien.

  The thought of Damien made him freeze. It was likely that the man was around here with them, somewhere close. He tur
ned and looked in the other direction and saw him, too late to raise his hands as the butt of a rifle smashed into the side of Emerson's head.

  Emerson grunted from the impact and staggered forward. He fell to his knees.

  "Emerson, I never gave you your hero's welcome." Damien laughed. He stood on Emerson's cyber arm and smashed the rifle butt into the side of Emerson's face again.

  Pain tore through Emerson. Bright light lit behind his eyes and he felt giddy. He looked up at Damien with blurred vision, unsure how to respond. He wiped his face and could feel blood ooze from the cut.

  "I told you to keep out of my way, but now you will pay." The man stepped fully on his cyber arm with both feet and jumped. He drove the butt of the rifle down hard on the join between the implant and Emerson's flesh.

  Emerson cried out and felt the implant tear buckle. He made a fist with his good hand and raised it high. With all the might he could muster, he drove his fist towards Damien, but one of the Chthonian creatures intervened.

  It knocked his hand away, and another of the creatures held him. He smelled the Chthonian around him and struggled, but it was futile.

  The creature leaned in, and Emerson stared into its hypnotic eyes. Damien jumped on his arm again. He could almost hear the bones in his arm bones break, and his prosthetic limb gave way. If Emerson hadn't been under the influence of the Chthonian's hypnotic control, he would have screamed out loud. Instead, the screams echoed around inside his head until he passed out.

  ◆◆◆

  Emerson woke. His arm ached, and the right side of his face stung. He'd been dreaming about Amye again, about a future where they were happily married and farming the land. Somebody kicked him in the ribs, hard, and he doubled up into a ball on the soft ground. Emerson realized that he still had his arm. His head felt it was at the end of a pendulum swinging back and forth; it made him giddy and sick. He ran his hand across his face and wiped away blood.

  A large squid-like creature stood in front of him. It had to be the terrorist Shudde-M'ell.

  "Is this the man?" asked Shudde-M'ell. He leaned in close to Emerson.

  "Yes," said Damien.

  "And The G'harne Fragments? They are within the tech?"

  "I believe so, Great One," said Damien. "If I'm not mistaken he downloaded the details about the G'harne Fragments before they destroyed the site."

  Emerson looked up at Damien. "Is that what this is all about?" said Emerson. "Is that why you brought these disgusting creatures here?"

  "Tell me," said Shudde-M'ell. "How much were you able to translate?"

  Emerson smiled despite himself and prepared to tell the lie. "That H5N1 Flu you gave everyone out on the Horn? Well, it helped, it gave me a unique perspective on the way they ordered the coded sequence within the fragments, and I could translate all of it."

  Shudde-M'ell stepped back abruptly like he'd been punched. One of his tentacles snaked toward Emerson, and an eye formed at the end. The giant orb stared at Emerson for a moment before it retreated.

  Emerson wondered if he had detected a mix of fear and surprise, almost respect, in the creature.

  "Did you read it?" asked Shudde-M'ell.

  "No," said Emerson, with disappointment. "I was too sick with the flu."

  "It's contained within the arm?" Shudde-M'ell's face twitched.

  "You can't get it. It's military grade, encrypted, and they revoked my access once I became too ill with H5N1 to make rational decisions."

  Shudde-M'ell nodded as if he understood. "That is a shame. I would have liked to read of the G'harne Fragments again, before we lost them from the world, but never mind." The creature turned and faced Damien. "Burn it, burn the tech so it can never be recovered." He pointed to Emerson. "And tie him up and quiet him," said Shudde-M'ell.

  "You don't want him dead?" Damien frowned, and disappointment swam over his face. His shoulders drooped.

  "Leave him. We may need to use him again," said Shudde-M'ell. "If not, you can return and kill him."

  "It will be my pleasure."

  "Now take me to where they mine the Coltan," said Shudde-M'ell. "Which tunnel takes us to the source?"

  "There is no tunnel, Great One. We must travel overland."

  "In daylight? We cannot."

  "But, Great One, you must," said Damien. "There is no other way."

  "We can't cross the open land. There are bees there."

  Damien laughed at the absurd joke. "Don't worry, the bees are harmless. They are more docile than the honey bees further south. I'll keep them away, Great One."

  "Do not assume to know everything about us, human."

  "Great One?" Damien frowned. "They are harmless bees."

  "Not to us. Not if we are stung. We will follow you, but if I lose any of my people, it will be on you. Are we clear?"

  "Of course, Great One."

  "Bind him," Shudde-M'ell said to Damien, "and we will go."

  Damien knelt down beside Emerson and snarled. "I'd kill you, Emerson, but I want you to know that I'm taking Amye with me, and I will kill her straight after she tells us where her property's tunnel is—"

  "All those tunnels were filled in years ago. You'll be wasting your time."

  "You're wrong, Emerson—"

  Shudde-M'ell stepped forward. "Is this right?"

  "No, Great One," said Damien. He faced Emerson. "I see what you are doing, but we are going there. She will never again be yours—"

  Fury like nothing Emerson had felt before filled him. His muscles tightened. Emerson twisted on the ground and he kicked out at Damien with every ounce of strength he had.

  Damien's feet slipped out from under him. The man fell hard, half on Emerson, and grunted.

  Emerson struggled onto his side, and head butted Damien in the face. Damien's nose gave way and Emerson felt blood, Damien's blood, cover his face.

  "You wait," yelled Damien, and he wiped blood away from his broken nose. "You are both the same. Spoilt farmer's children. You've had everything handed to you on a silver plate. Me, I've had to work for everything I ever had. Nobody ever gave me anything. I will enjoy this."

  "You're crazy," said Emerson. He'd had no help and had only ever work long tiring days on the farm. "If I will die here anyway, just tell me one thing. Did you kill Dimples?"

  Damien laughed. He leaned in close and blood dripped over Emerson's face. "Yes, I sliced her throat. I thought of you and Amye when I did it."

  Damien picked up his rifle off the ground. "I hope you die in here, and slowly. When I'm done, Amye will die quickly." He raised his rifle into the air and smashed it onto the side of Emerson's head.

  Emerson fought the pain and let the darkness take him. It was better than the sound of Damien's laughter.

  ◆◆◆

  "Emerson, wake up."

  Emerson opened his eyes to torchlight and realized he was still in the black cave. "You can stop shaking me," he said and noticed someone had untied him. His wound had been dressed with a section of Myles' t-shirt. His friend had been busy. "What did I say about not coming in?"

  "You said terrorists were here. I watched them," said Myles. "Strange creatures with Damien."

  "Did they see you?"

  "No, I'd have used this on them." Myles brandished his father's old 7.62 mm Australian L1A1 Self-Loading Rifle.

  Emerson smiled despite his circumstances. "Where did you hide the SLR?"

  "I keep it in the wheel well of the car, just in case."

  Emerson laughed. "Figures, Myles. You never cease to surprise me. You wouldn't still have that box of hollow point shells by any chance?"

  "In the car glove box compartment."

  Emerson chewed on his bottom lip. A weapon with a decent range. Perhaps he could get a shot off. "Help me up," he said. "I'll see if we can't see any of them through the sights."

  "No, you can't," said Myles. He shook his head. "They'd be over the rise by now. Close though."

  Emerson sighed. "That's ok." He wondered what he should do. He
was only one person with an antique gun and one arm. Part of him said he should get help, but actual help was days away in an NSA anti-terrorist cell that knew about these types of strange activities. Hell, Emerson was one of a few who knew about its existence. There had been enough in the report similar to what had been occurring out in the Horn and now it had happened here.

  "How is your arm, Emerson?"

  Emerson held up his stump and moved it in the torchlight. "It looks worse than it is. The nerves have mostly died around it. I can't really feel anything," lied Emerson. He'd hated the cyber attachment for so long, a symbol of his failed life with Amye and Stirling North, and yet here he was. He realized it was a part of him, and now it was gone. If he wasn't careful he'd be an empty shell before too long.

  "What are we going to do?"

  "Finish what I started." Emerson stood. He bit the inside of his cheek and squeezed until he could taste blood. More pain endorphins flooded through his body. He could do this. "They are on foot, so there's still a slim chance. I need you to drive as fast as you can out to Amye's place. Let's go. "

  Myles followed. "Not the police station?"

  "No. We need to stop at the back paddock of the farm too," said Emerson.

  "What do you need?"

  "Bees. Swarms of my angry Blue Banded bees."

  ◆◆◆

  Myles coasted down the street near Amye's place and stopped a house away.

  Emerson patted the box of bees on the car seat. "Myles, I need you to do something for me."

  "Name it," said Myles.

  "Take the box of bees and make sure you're not seen. Go down to the back of Amye's paddock and shake them up. Release the bees and run back to your car. Then get out of the area."

  Myles grinned like he thought it was a marvellous idea. "I can do that. I'll come back and help."

  "No. Go home. Leave this to me. I want you to phone someone. Just in case…"

  "Who?"

  "There's a guy I know, a Canadian, ex-britn Australian, name's Colonel Andrew Stone. He works in Ottawa. I want you to tell him about what's happened, but more importantly, he needs that translated copy of the G'harne Fragments and my files you've stored." Emerson leaned further into the car. "The number is in my bag at home. Promise me!