Survival Game

by Gary Gibson

  ‘What are you talking about?’

  ‘They were a fringe group, obsessed with post-apocalyptic alternates. They went in search of them specifically because they believed they would find evidence of God’s direct intervention in their destruction. That list of coordinates the Authority uses even comes from them. If those beads belonged to one of them, they are almost certainly the product of a delusional mind. They cannot be trusted.’

  ‘But that doesn’t explain all those other wrecked Syllogikos bases – or why they tried to destroy the Hypersphere we’ve been working on all these years!’

  ‘I’m sure there’s a perfectly adequate explanation without having to indulge in wild conspiracy theories.’ He pulled me towards the now vacant stage, and the remainder of his men followed in our wake. ‘As for the rest of the Syllogikos,’ he added contemptuously, ‘why assume they disappeared? It’s far more likely that once they had the Hypersphere, they had no need of bases on nearby alternates and so simply abandoned them. What use could they possibly be, when the Hypersphere could take them to wherever their heart desired?’

  ‘But the beads—’

  ‘Later, Katya. I’ll have you gagged if you insist on talking.’

  ‘Where are we going?’ I asked, my voice full of defeat.

  ‘To Delta Twenty-Five, of course. Where else?’

  Borodin handed the notebook to one of his men, who programmed the coordinates into the stage. Seconds later, we arrived on Delta Twenty-Five.

  The air felt baking hot after the gloomy chill of the caverns. Borodin’s men hurried down from the stage, and I saw Herr Frank standing waiting with several more of his men within the hangar. Everything looked exactly the same as when I had last been here, with Elena and Jerry.

  ‘You have no idea how much danger we’re in,’ I insisted as Borodin dragged me down the ramp and off the stage. ‘Those creatures—’

  ‘The Authority’s drones have recorded no sign of activity since you were rescued,’ said Borodin. ‘I see no reason to believe that the creatures that attacked you will return.’

  It was immediately obvious that the Hypersphere wasn’t all Borodin was intent on retrieving. I watched the soldiers under Herr Frank’s command lift crates crammed with artefacts down from the back of an open-bed truck, placing them with other crates to one side of the stage. Clearly, they were grabbing everything they could while they had the chance.

  Herr Frank stepped towards Borodin. ‘We found a few more of the Authority’s drones and had no problem deactivating them. They’ll never know what happened here.’

  ‘Good,’ said Borodin. ‘And nobody’s touched the Hypersphere?’

  Herr Frank shook his head. ‘As per your orders.’

  ‘Good. Then I’ll go to it immediately.’

  ‘One thing,’ said Herr Frank as Borodin turned away. ‘It does appear that the Authority were about to ship the Hypersphere back to their own alternate at the time they were attacked.’

  Borodin glared at him. ‘I hope that it’s undamaged?’

  ‘Entirely undamaged, rest assured. We found it in a tent erected next to one of the sheds. I can only assume they were preparing to move it to this hangar.’

  ‘I see.’ Borodin nodded stiffly. ‘Thank you, Herr Frank. Clearly there’s no time to waste. Does one of your men know where I can find it?’

  Herr Frank nodded and snapped his fingers at a soldier. ‘You,’ said Herr Frank. ‘Take Gospodin Borodin to the Hypersphere.’ He turned back to Borodin. ‘I’ll be leaving shortly to take charge of things back at the Crag. I assume you can keep an eye on things here?’

  Borodin nodded and pulled me along by the arm as the soldier led us outside. Pink sunlight blazed down on us, the shadows slanting lengthways across the paving stones: the sun was most of the way across the sky. I saw a multi-legged Authority drone standing not far from the hangar, as silent and unmoving as a statue.

  We made our way across the compound on foot, past some of the big storage sheds. Borodin kept his pistol pushed up hard against my side the whole way. Everywhere I looked, I thought I saw monsters lurking, waiting to attack. Every shadow seemed to contain within it the promise of death.

  Just as Herr Frank had said, the Hypersphere was sitting inside a tent along with several other artefacts, next to the shed where we had originally found it. A second open-bed truck stood next to the tent, the grisly remains of some unlucky Authority staffer slumped halfway out of it.

  ‘Get rid of that body,’ Borodin ordered Herr Frank’s man. ‘See if that truck can still run.’

  The soldier nodded and turned away. Borodin led me inside the tent, then turned to face me. ‘Right now, I don’t care whether you betrayed me or not,’ he snapped. ‘All I care about is the Hypersphere. Do you understand?’

  I nodded.

  ‘Good.’ He dug around in a pocket and passed me the headset. ‘Now use this to make sure it’s not damaged in any way.’

  ‘Borodin,’ I said, my voice shaking, ‘if you would just listen to me—’

  Before I could finish, Borodin aimed the pistol at a point just inches in front of my feet and fired a single shot. I screamed and stumbled back as concrete spat up from the ground before me. He stepped closer and pressed the weapon against my ribs. ‘Damn you, Orlova. When I tell you to—’

  ‘Sir?’

  Borodin whirled to face the soldier, who was holding up a walkie-talkie. I looked out past him and saw he had already dragged the body away from the truck.

  ‘Sir,’ said the soldier, ‘it’s Herr Frank.’

  Borodin snatched the radio from the soldier then turned to look at me. ‘You know what you have to do. Get on with it.’ He turned to the soldier. ‘Watch her closely, do you understand? If anything happens to that artefact, I’ll have you skinned alive while the rest of the Crag watches.’

  The soldier turned a little pale, but saluted. He turned to face me, his rifle gripped in both hands while Borodin stepped out of the tent.

  I fitted the headset to my scalp, thinking furiously all the while. As soon as the headset was in place, virtual menus appeared all around the Hypersphere.

  Except this time something was different: there was something new in the foreground, flashing red.

  I reached out to touch it and a message appeared. It said there had been an unauthorized attempt to move the Hypersphere. In response, ‘native defence systems’ had been triggered.

  I remembered the nearly identical warning I had seen on my first encounter with this particular Hypersphere, when it had still been inside the shed. Of course, I still had no idea what on Earth these ‘native defence systems’ might be . . .

  I froze as a realization hit me like a lightning-bolt.

  Almost as soon as the Hypersphere had been moved from the shed, half a dozen Authority staffers had come to horrible and grisly ends. They couldn’t possibly have been aware of the virtual warnings all around the artefact, such messages being designed for the benefit of Syllogikos citizens with cybernetic technology embedded into their skulls.

  Was it possible that simply by moving the Hypersphere the Authority had unwittingly triggered these defence systems, and caused the invisible monsters to attack?

  Were they the native defence systems?

  Working feverishly, I dug down through the menus until I found what I was looking for – an option for activating or deactivating the defence systems.

  At the moment, they were deactivated. I could only assume they had shut down again because the perceived threat had been eliminated.

  Suddenly, I knew exactly what I had to do. It was imperative I prevented the Hypersphere from being taken back to the Novaya Empire, even if it cost me my life – and so I nudged the defence systems back into active status.

  ‘Aren’t you finished?’

  I turned to see Borodin had re-entered the tent. ‘It’s intact and operational,’ I said.

  He nodded. ‘Good.’ He held out his hand, and I gave him back the headset. ‘Now we
can get it onto the truck.’

  He spoke into his radio. I stared towards the hills, wondering when the attack would come – if it would come. Just minutes ago, the thought of ever coming face to face with those beasts again would have terrified me to the core. Yet now, to my astonishment, I was no longer afraid – not even to die.

  After all, if I didn’t die here, I would most surely meet my end along with the rest of the Empire if the Tsar ever got his hands on the Hypersphere.

  The truck was joined by the one from the hangar a few minutes later, carrying several soldiers in its rear. It rolled to a halt, and two of the men climbed down, carrying between them a metal sphere formed from closely spaced bars. An identical cage also protected the first Hypersphere, back at the Crag.

  One of the soldiers touched an electronic lock on the side of the cage. It hissed open, becoming two hemispheres connected by a hinge. Working carefully, they slid one hemisphere of the cage around the Hypersphere, then closed the other around it. The Hypersphere bobbed slightly above its cradle as the locking mechanism engaged.

  ‘All right,’ said Borodin, looking relieved. The artefact glowed faintly through its bars. ‘Let’s see what else we can find and then we can get out of here.’

  Three of the soldiers raised the Hypersphere by taking hold of its cradle from beneath and lifting it. The Hypersphere bobbed again, but remained locked in place above the cradle. Then it was placed in the rear of one of the trucks and driven back to the hangar, where it was placed together with other recovered artefacts next to the stage.

  I had been afraid Borodin would take us all back to the Crag before the invisible beasts had a chance to kill him and his soldiers, but clearly he was in no hurry to leave just yet. I asked him why.

  ‘The Soviet engineers showed me video of rows of empty cradles,’ he replied. ‘That means there might well be more Hyperspheres hidden away in one of those other sheds. We won’t return home until we’re certain this is the only one.’

  ‘Take your time,’ I said, and he looked at me strangely.

  And off we went again, leaving two men guarding the hangar. Borodin sent both trucks careering around the sheds, the soldiers grabbing whatever else they could.

  Despite Borodin’s certainty that we would be safe, he ordered several of his men to keep a watchful eye on the surrounding forest. And yet, no attack came.

  Hours passed, and doubt began to creep uninvited into my thoughts. Perhaps I had made a mistake. Perhaps I had misinterpreted the Hypersphere’s warnings; or perhaps they had meant something other than the invisible beasts.

  And the more time passed, the more my doubts grew.

  Then, at last, just as night began to creep over the forests and hills, a scream full of terrible anguish echoed from far off across the compound.

  Everyone came to a standstill. I looked up from where I sat hunched on the flatbed rear of one of the trucks, until that moment stewing in regret and misery.

  Borodin, nearby, lifted a walkie-talkie to his mouth. ‘Sergeant? Report in. Is the hangar secure?’

  I pulled my knees close to my chin and hugged them.

  ‘Answer me, damn you!’ he shouted.

  Gunfire came from the direction of the hangar. I looked the other way and saw a brief shower of sparks where the pavement met the jungle, as if something were forcing its way through the barrier surrounding the sheds.

  ‘Get in the trucks,’ Borodin shouted at the soldiers, who had been in the process of crating artefacts. ‘Shoot anything that moves!’

  Several of the men scrambled onto the back of the truck next to me. The rest got on board the second truck. They left the artefacts where they were. Borodin climbed into the front cabin of my own vehicle; its engine coughed into life.

  We picked up speed. I peered into the window set in the back of the cabin and through the windscreen, in the direction of the hangar. A blur rushed towards us with impossible speed. Borodin’s driver swerved, but too late: the creature had leaped onto the roof of the cabin, rearing over everyone in the back. I had a brief impression of fangs like shards of sharpened glass before the man next to me was lifted into the air, his legs kicking wildly.

  The beast shot away from the truck with its prize gripped in its jaws. I heard frantic shouting and twisted around in time to see the other truck go crashing onto its side, spilling men everywhere.

  Shadowy, liquid shapes slithered down the wall of the shed nearest them. Gunfire mixed with the sound of their screams as our own truck accelerated away. It veered again, and one of the men beside me lost his balance, falling out. We did not slow down.

  Then, suddenly, we were back at the hangar. The truck slammed straight through the entrance before screeching to a halt.

  Inside was a charnel house. Bits and pieces of the two men Borodin had left in charge of the stage were scattered everywhere. Bright streaks of blood smeared the Hypersphere’s cage.

  ‘Get the hangar doors closed!’ Borodin screamed as he jumped down from the front cabin. ‘Don’t let those things get in here!’

  Only three of the soldiers had survived. I climbed down from the truck as two of them rushed over to the hangar entrance, hauling the heavy doors shut.

  ‘Who was in charge of explosives?’ shouted Borodin.

  ‘I am, sir,’ said one of the men, coming over to him.

  Borodin closed his eyes for a moment in silent thanks. ‘Good. Your name?’

  ‘Kuznetsov, sir.’

  ‘Then you know what you have to do. Get to it.’

  I saw my rucksack, discarded in a corner where one of the soldiers must have thrown it. I ran over and picked it up. The box fell out, spilling its beads across the floor of the hangar. I reached down to pick them back up, then remembered I wasn’t wearing gloves. I pulled the sleeve of my jacket down around my fingertips and managed to grab up the grey one before a soldier pulled me away.

  ‘Get her the hell up on the stage,’ Borodin shouted.

  I pushed the bead deep into a pocket as I was dragged up the ramp. Borodin and one of his men had already taken hold of the Hypersphere, lifting it together with its cradle onto the stage. They ignored the rest of the artefacts gathered around us.

  I watched as Kuznetsov pressed something that looked like grey putty against the underside of the stage’s control rig before tapping at its keyboard. The field-pillars hummed into life. Kuznetsov next pressed a small metal rod into the putty, then stood.

  I looked up as light began to form between the stage’s pillars. Then I looked higher still, seeing the vague outline of one of the beasts clinging to the steel support struts just below the hangar ceiling. It dropped onto the hangar floor, just behind Kuznetsov as he made to join us.

  He let out a high-pitched gasp, then stared down at the fountain of blood erupting from his chest. His feet kicked as he was lifted screaming into the air.

  The light grew towards maximum intensity. The creature tossed Kuznetsov’s body to one side, then emitted a primordial roar fit to inspire a thousand nightmares.

  I closed my eyes and waited to die. Instead the light faded, and when I next opened my eyes we were back in the Crag.

  SEVENTEEN

  The Crag’s main transfer stage was housed in a space that resembled nothing so much as the dungeon of some ancient Carpathian fortress. A stone ceiling vaulted overhead, while a framework of steel girders of more recent vintage, criss-crossing beneath it, supported a heavy iron pulley. Chains dangled from the pulley nearly to the floor, which was almost completely hidden beneath great mounds and piles of crates.

  Men came running onto the stage, taking hold of the Hypersphere and carrying it down the ramp. I watched as the artefact and its cradle were placed on a steel trolley that was rapidly wheeled through a narrow doorway and out of sight.

  ‘There you are,’ said Herr Frank, coming towards us as we descended the ramp. He frowned at the two soldiers making their way down beside us. ‘Where are the rest of my men?’

  ‘They’re d
ead,’ said Borodin. ‘Killed by whatever attacked the Authority.’

  Herr Frank blinked rapidly, looking fit to explode. Borodin stepped towards him and pulled him out of earshot. Even so, it was clear they were arguing violently.

  When they came back over, Herr Frank was stony-faced and tight-lipped. He gestured to a guard, who came trotting over. ‘Take her to the office assigned to Gospodin Borodin,’ he said, pointing at me. ‘Building Five, Office Seventeen. And keep an eye on her until further orders. Understood?’

  The guard saluted, then unslung his rifle before turning to me and nodding towards a tall archway. ‘This way,’ he said.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ I said. ‘I know the way.’

  Even so, I let him lead me through an archway and out into a broad courtyard paved with cobblestones, enclosed on all sides by a low wall beyond which only sky was visible. The air felt chilly and damp, the sun little more than a bright disc filtered through low grey clouds. We were on the very highest terrace of an ancient fortress that spilled down the slopes of a mountain.

  We crossed the courtyard and entered an elevator contained within a framework of girders bolted to a steep stone wall. The elevator rattled and shook as we descended, and I got a good look at the Crag for the first time in many months. Our prison was built around a series of broad paved terraces, like a tide of granite and cut stone spilling downwards from a snowy peak. Ancient keeps, storehouses and granaries mingled with research facilities of much more recent construction. Each terrace was connected to those above and below by vertiginous stairways as well as more elevators, bolted either to the outside of walls or to the sheer rock of the mountain itself.

  When I had first arrived years before, however, my attention had been drawn far more towards the titanic structures that dominated the horizon, some achieving such heights that clouds often gathered around their upper reaches. Their foundations were believed to reach deep into the Earth’s crust, perhaps in order to draw on geothermal heat – but what purpose they had once served for whatever race had once called this alternate home, we would probably never know.