‘When you arrive at the shoreline, you’ll be greeted outside a shield that protects the entire Sanctuary territory. It’s impressive,’ Agent Basil had told her. The excitement rising in his voice was a rare break from his usual studied manner. ‘The force field is constructed of picotechnology. Airborne atomic particles with the ability to communicate through artificial intelligence, making the field flexible. We believe the shield blocks harmful solar radiation while also harvesting the sun’s energy and converting it into electricity. The magnetic field blocks all inward-bound surveillance, which is why we know less about them than they do about us. The technology in parts isn’t beyond our reach, but the sheer scale of what they have achieved is impressive. The force field must be covering a landmass area of over one million square miles.’
Agent Basil’s briefing also covered the unofficial roles.
‘Doctor Perching, as the first citizen of the Sanctuary to cross into the field, we will be very interested in your observations.’
She understood the request. More than a doctor, more than an emissary – her job was the watcher of all things: a snoop.
A miniature hologram of Agent Basil appeared above the helm’s communicator.
‘Good day, Doctor Perching. I trust everything is going as expected?’
‘As expected? Considering I don’t know exactly what I’m going to be doing and I’m heading to a country I didn’t even know existed? Probably; most likely as expected,’ she quipped.
‘The council has asked that I express their appreciation again for your willingness and sacrifice.’ He assured her.
‘Sacrifice?’ Her voice was slightly concerned.
‘Trust that your safety is paramount for us.’
‘Hmm,’ she grunted half-heartedly. ‘Reassuring considering it’s coming from the same people who just revealed they’ve been telling a one-hundred-year lie.’
One side of the Agent’s lips reluctantly curled into a half-smile. ‘Yes, well, a lie you’re at the heart of now. It’s important to remember this is as much a diplomatic trip as it is scientific. Your every word and action will be interpreted as coming from the Council of Leaders. We need to ensure the people of the Sanctuary of Americas understand we come with goodwill and a desire to build a long-term relationship.’
His words reminded her once again how ill-prepared she felt for this mission. Politics and being the centre of attention were not her strengths. Mercy should have been sitting in a lab behind the white barrels of microscopes and never-ending streams of data. She had to push her doubts aside. Give them too much room, and she might turn around.
‘As a reminder, once you approach the force field, you will be greeted by a representative of their President, Ambassador Joan. She will escort you through the shield and into the city. At that point, our only communication will be one-way video recordings that they will send back and forth on our behalf.’
‘Yes – a strange requirement for an open invitation, isn’t it?’
‘It’s been nearly a hundred years since contact. I’m sure they will want to monitor your communication for sensitive information, even if they have assured us they won’t filter the messages. I do think it would be prudent if we agreed on a safe word if you need help, though.’
Mercy thought for a short while. ‘My tree.’
‘Excuse me?’
‘The tree in my apartment.’
Mercy’s apartment back in the Sanctuary was meagrely decorated, but compliant with her living and dining requirements. There were no personal artefacts to be seen; no pictures on the walls, no books on shelves, no favourite knick-knacks or ornaments dotted around. It’s not that she wanted her home to be impersonal, she just didn’t see the point, spending most of her days and nights in the lab. However, her one personal transgression was a small stunted orange tree, illegally kept, as any use of water in the Sanctuary was heavily regulated and for essential purposes only.
‘How about if I ask you to remember to water my tree?’ Mercy offered.
He paused. ‘Well, now that I’m complicit in your crime, thank you,’ he teased, ‘I believe that should be innocuous enough. Yes, let’s use that.’
‘Good. But really, do remember to water my tree.’
‘Consider it done. Be safe. Our hopes are with you.’
Just as Agent Basil was about to sign off, Mercy jolted from her seat. A shadowy form, deep in the water, appeared beneath her.
‘Is something wrong?’ asked Agent Basil, not yet evaporated.
‘Something is under the ship! Something huge, in the water,’ she cried out, her eyes locked on the living silhouette moving towards her.
‘Ah, yes. I can see the ship’s sensors have identified the object as organic. It’s likely a whale at that size. Our navy has spotted them occasionally, but only out in the deep, far away from land. Take it as a good omen, Doctor Perching.’
Mercy quickly signed off. With a blink, Agent Basil disappeared.
‘Gia, can you identify the object?’ Mercy asked excitedly.
‘It appears to be a Blue whale. A near-extinct species.’
The whale slipped under their ship. Mercy’s heart raced. A strange urge took her by surprise, bypassing a perpetual sense of responsibility – it felt like rebellion.
‘Gia, turn around, lock in on the whale and follow along.’
‘This is outside our protocol, Mercy. Agent Basil will have to be notified.’
‘It’s only for a moment. He’ll understand.’
The gold-foil sails spun round, turning the ship about-face. Within minutes, they were riding the bow of the enormous creature. Mercy gazed unflinchingly at the black image weaving through the undulating water canopy when suddenly the great beast, all thirty metres of flesh, began to surface, water sweeping down its rubbery skin. A feathery plume of water shot out of the hole atop its head. Mercy gasped with delight and ordered Gia to descend as they came to swim with the whale, at its side, hovering vertically. A solitary eye, human-like, watched them, curious.
‘Mercy, Agent Basil is asking for an update on our change of course,’ interrupted Gia.
Mercy, transfixed, couldn’t bring herself to break the mystical connection; the whale would have to be the first to leave. Then, almost as if it sensed her dilemma, the whale sank weightlessly below the water’s surface. With brevity and incredible dexterity, it turned full face and started swimming in the opposite direction, towards the Sanctuary of Americas.
‘We do understand each other,’ whispered Mercy under her breath, giddy with excitement. ‘Gia, how long can we follow the whale and still reach the Sanctuary on time?’
‘Headwinds are low. At this speed, we will arrive at the Sanctuary ahead of schedule.’
‘Great. Tell Agent Basil we are on our way to the Sanctuary and follow behind the whale until we need to get back on course.’
In what felt like only a minute, thirty had passed. The animal’s freedom caught at Mercy. Something of the vastness of the open ocean and the effortless speed of the rare giant gliding below her brought a calm respite from the terrifying job ahead of her.
So, this is the power of nature. To feel small, but not alone. To feel connected, but also free. This is what we’ve lost, she thought sadly.
Gia broke the silence. ‘Mercy, we’ve shifted eighty-six knots north off-course following the whale. However, we can still arrive ahead of schedule if we correct course now.’
Mercy ignored her.
Why did you change course after our encounter? Was it just a coincidence? Did you want to be followed?
‘Gia, run a calculation on the whale’s path forward in a straight line and scan satellite images between here and the Sanctuary of Americas. Let me know if there is anything other than water.’
‘Images show an uninhabited volcanic island around one hundred kilometres from our current lo
cation in due course with the whale’s path. Otherwise, the satellite shows only open ocean until we reach the Sanctuary of Americas,’ relayed Gia.
‘One hundred kilometres? Is that all? We can certainly sneak a visit and still meet the Ambassador on time. Gia, change course for a quick flyover of the island and let’s pick up the pace.’
‘Another change in course will need to be explained to Agent Basil.’
‘Fine, share our destination. Report the reason for the detour as scientific research.’
Plumes of grey smoke billowed high into the air, breaking the monotonous azure skyline. A solitary black rock mountain rose up and out of the horizon as they sped forward, revealing itself as the source of the stuttering ash clouds teasing to erupt at any moment. Isolated, the volcano cut a haunting image against the vacant landscape. The loneliness reverberated through Mercy. She longed for the whale they had left behind, wishing they had arrived together.
What is it you wanted to show me? She asked again.
‘Gia, how close can we get to the island?’
‘Ten kilometres away from the volcano’s vent and staying upwind of the plume puts us in a safe zone.’
‘Understood. Fly around the island once and then let’s head out,’ she relinquished, ready to give up on her adventure.
The volcano’s western precipice, three-hundred-foot sheer cliffs, was bald and wind-swept, beaten by ceaseless crashing ocean waves erupting into fountains of sea spray and swirling foam. Its eastern front, in contrast, was a long undulating terrain with a serrated spine flanked on each side by a rib cage of eroding gullies sloping downward into shallow beaches.
The lifeless island, tranquilising for all its volatility and anger bubbling inside, offered no clues why it might be a destination of choice on first sight. Then, unexpectedly, under the rippling day’s heat, reflecting off the black-glass sand beach, she spotted a trespasser, something white and substantial.
‘Gia, use cameras to zoom in on the beach.’
An image appeared on the glass windshield through which Mercy stared with awe. Bones. Hundreds of them. Rows upon rows of skeletons. Giant arches of sun-bleached rib cages and skull boulders.
The island’s coast was a boneyard of beached whales. Mercy had heard stories of mass animal graveyards that appeared during the early stages of the environmental crisis, mostly caused by land mammals migrating to water sources only to find dry lakes and riverbeds. But this didn’t explain why these whales came together to die. Her initial excitement suddenly slipped away.
Is this why you changed course? Are you coming to die?
She couldn’t wait around for the answers. A pressing sense of lateness and obligation forced her to move on.
‘Gia, scan the whale skeletons’ cellular structures, collect photos and let’s head out to meet the Ambassador.’
Mercy left the island and the whale behind, hoping her new friend might never find this place.
CHAPTER THREE
‘The shield that protects the Sanctuary of Americas is now visible,’ reported Gia dutifully.
Mercy scanned the horizon anxiously as they arrived at the coordinates where they were scheduled to meet the Ambassador. The rapid succession of events that had brought her to this point left her little time to imagine much about the Sanctuary of Americas. However, what confronted her provided more questions than answers. Emptiness filled the skyline for as far as Mercy could see. The barrier’s edge, a reflectionless veil like a dense fog, offered no hint of what lay on the other side.
Mercy waited. ‘Gia, are you sure we’ve arrived in the right location?’
On cue, appearing out of thin air, the nose of a flying ship slowly broke through the surface of the shield. Once entirely through the barrier, the object revealed itself as a solid metallic sphere with no windows, jets, propellers, or sails. The egg-shaped vehicle came to a stop, hovering.
‘The Ambassador is hailing us,’ Gia alerted.
Mercy tugged at the hem of her white jacket, pulling it tight. She briefly touched the silver badge pinned to her coat, the national symbol of the Sanctuary of Europe, reminding her of the mission and duty to the Leaders.
‘Put them through, Gia.’ Her command was confident.
‘Hello, Doctor Perching,’ said a young woman hovering over her ships helm.
The severity of the Ambassador’s appearance – a perfectly tailored blue military uniform, stiff posture, hair as white as snow pulled tightly back into a bun, and stoic expression – seemed an effort to downplay her exceptional beauty. The woman’s extraordinarily large dark round eyes and smooth porcelain skin struck Mercy as exaggerated, almost too perfect.
‘Hello, Ambassador Joan,’ Mercy replied. ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you.’
‘On behalf of the Prime, I’d like to welcome you to the Sanctuary of Americas,’ the Ambassador said, breaking into a friendly smile. ‘I’ll be your escort on this trip. I trust your travels went well?’
‘Yes, thank you. I’m sorry, the Prime?’ questioned Mercy, with no knowledge of the title.
Ambassador Joan tilted her head quizzically. ‘My apologies,’ she offered, suddenly understanding Mercy’s confusion. ‘The Prime is the name given to our leader elect. She runs the Sanctuary of Americas. You probably referred to the role of our President-elect. We haven’t used that title for a very long time,’ she explained.
Mercy wondered why Agent Basil hadn’t included this information in her briefing and how many more surprises lay ahead.
The Ambassador continued, ‘Not to worry, Doctor; it’s my job to acquaint you with our civilisation.’
Civilisation? Mercy squinted her eyes at the sound of it. Odd, she thought. City, nation, even culture seemed more appropriate considering their shared past.
‘Thank you, Ambassador,’ Mercy continued in a practiced tone. ‘The Leaders of the Sanctuary of Europe hope this will be a fruitful and long-lasting relationship between our cities. We only regret that it’s come under these circumstances.’
The Ambassador nodded sympathetically. ‘Your Leaders speak very highly of you and your research into the FossilFlu. Our scientists have made some progress as well and are anxious to meet you.’
A slight blush quickly faded from Mercy’s cheeks. ‘I look forward to working with them.’
The Ambassador nodded to someone on her ship outside of the hologram.
‘You’ve likely noticed the shield over the Sanctuary through which we arrived,’ she continued addressing Mercy. ‘We call this the Shade. Unfortunately, you won’t be able to take your ship further for security reasons. From this point on, you’ll be travelling with us. My colleague has sent your PVA the coordinates of a stationary naval ship nearby. It can dock there until your return. I apologise, but your PVA will need to remain with your ship as well. Will this be okay?’
‘Certainly. I understand,’ Mercy answered, hiding her surprise. A sudden and unexpected panic arrested her. She had never been without access to Gia. Ashamed of the childish fear, she pushed it aside.
‘I’m sending the docking bay out to retrieve you now. We’ll see you on our ship, Doctor Perching.’ The Ambassador signed off, her image evaporating to silence.
Through her windshield, Mercy watched in astonishment as a liquid metal bubble squirted itself out of the side of the Ambassador’s ship. The blob rolled out into a disk-like platform, hovering over the ocean without any visible engine. The platform jetted towards her vehicle.
‘Gia, relay the port coordinates to Agent Basil and inform him you will not be joining me. Also, send images of the Ambassador’s ship and the transport platform. He’ll love this. And while you port on the Sanctuary’s ship, please remain in confidential mode. Do not allow correspondence with anyone on the docking ship.’
‘Yes, understood. Mercy?’
‘Yes?’
‘I believe one say
s good luck at this point.’
‘That’s correct. I’m going to need a lot of luck.’
Mercy slipped on a full-body cape and pulled the protective hood over her head as the hatch on her ship opened. A burst of hot air shot at her cloak and whipped her hair repeatedly against her face as she clutched her hood. Cautiously stepping onto the hovercraft docked outside her ship, a gravitational pull locked her feet steadily onto its surface.
Slowly, the platform, nothing more than a thin sliver of metal stopping her from a death spiral into the white-capped ocean below, levitated her back to the Ambassador’s ship. For all the wind and bluster of the outside world, the hovercraft remained remarkably stable.
Approaching the Ambassador’s shuttle, Mercy could find no hint of a hatch or opening. Out of nowhere, a ripple began to form on the surface of the metal sphere. The rings expanded and increased in frequency outward until the thinning liquid stretched effortlessly into an open doorway, revealing Ambassador Joan standing opposite. She gestured for Mercy to enter. The floating platform retracted its gravitational hold, and Mercy stepped on board, into the Sanctuary of Americas itself.
Mercy blinked twice with astonishment. Other than the floor, the ship’s hull, opaque from the outside, had mysteriously become transparent when standing inside, offering unrestricted views of the ocean and sky.
Ambassador Joan presented her hand. ‘Welcome on board, Doctor Perching.’
‘Thank you,’ Mercy accepted.
Their touch gave Mercy a start, and she had to fight off an instinct to recoil. A sheath of short, barely visible white hair – soft, like the hairs on a newborn baby’s head, and dense like fur, covered the back of the Ambassador’s hand.
Mercy was quick to feign an even broader, almost silly, smile to avoid a reaction that might offend the Ambassador.
The Ambassador continued unfazed. ‘This is Private Theo,’ she waved a hand towards a young man stood at the ship’s helm. His snow-white hair, close-cropped, and pearl-smooth rounded face, bore such a striking similarity to the Ambassador they could have been twins.
Children of the Miracle Page 2
