by Tom Dublin
If she were to die now, would the care home staff inform him, or decide it would be best for the old man simply to quietly forget the niece he had brought up like a daughter of his own?
Whichever choice they made, she smiled as she pictured him in her mind's eye. Here, he was young again, and the two of them were racing across the lush, green park at the center of the base station that was the only home either of them had ever known.
And they were laughing.
If this was to be her last ever thought, it was a good one.
Behind the bridge, the piercing report of metal colliding with metal suggested the strengthened frame of the ship was beginning to fail.
"I hope The Pegasus is OK," Tc'aarlat said to no-one in particular.
Jack felt himself pinned back in his seat as the level of g-force began to climb. The 90 degree turn was almost complete, and there had been no let up from the wild bucking and pitching of the ship.
He pushed down hard with his legs, forcing his chair to turn enough for him to be able to see his two friends - one old, one new - and even that bastard bird.
His chair squeaked as it twisted round.
For fuck's sake!
"You did well, Adina," he said with a smile. "It was a strong idea, and it's not your fault that-"
Suddenly, everything fell still and silent.
The trio froze, each mentally checking that they hadn't just slammed into the surface of the planet and that this wasn't the split-second of calm before they were crushed and mangled beyond recognition.
"Holy Bistok shit!" hissed Tc'aarlat. "It's working!"
Alma Nine, Taron City, Weather Control Center, Main Laboratory
It had taken almost all of her strength, but Bay Don had finally managed to drag herself out from underneath the fallen plaster and debris and underneath the nearest work surface.
The metal legs holding the tabletop in place were bent and buckled, but the worktop seemed to be able to withstand whatever was causing these sudden bursts of pressure. Bursts which seemed to be rising and falling in severity, almost as if they were waves.
Something dripped into Bay Don's left eye, causing it to sting. Once again working hard against the intense downward force, Bay Don forced her hand up to wipe her face, concerned to find her fingers now coated with blood. She must have a cut on her forehead somewhere, unsurprising considering the carnage all around her.
Some of the other people scattered about the laboratory floor were in a considerably worse state. Many were groaning and crying out in pain as they lay beneath mounds of debris, twisted metal beams, and even office furniture which had until now been used on the floor above.
Worse, a couple of the scientists were silent, and making no attempt to move or free themselves from where they were trapped. Bay Don could only hope that they had merely been knocked unconscious by debris as the ceiling had collapsed.
She heard a muffled groan and re-angled her head to see Jon Rey lying on his back in front of the dented elevator doors. His right arm was twisted at an awkward angle and Bay Don could tell, even from a distance, that it was probably broken in at least two places.
Gripping one of the table's legs, she began to haul herself over towards him, when another of the acute waves of pressure hit the lab. Cries of pain and discomfort sounded from several of the injured assistants, and a shower of dust rained down from what remained of the damaged ceiling.
Bay Don felt the air around her grow heavier, pushing down on her spine and pressing her cheek hard against the cold, cracked tiles that made up the floor.
The wave lasted around 7 minutes, after which the pressure eased a little, but not completely. Finally, Bay Don was able to drag herself over to Jon Rey. The scientist was floating in and out of consciousness, thanks in part to the excruciating stabs of pain emanating from his arm but also due to - Bay Don retched as she caught sight of the injury - the broken test tube embedded in Jon Rey's throat.
Working hard to raise her hand, Bay Don's trembling fingers reached out to pull the jagged glass container free from Jon Rey's blood-soaked skin, but hesitated, wondering if removing the fragment would cause the wound to bleed further.
Jon Rey shifted slightly, a gurgling sound accompanying the stream of bloodied bubbles running from his mouth and down the side of his face to spatter on the floor beside him.
Bay Don had to make a decision one way or the other, knowing that the wrong choice could prove fatal for the scientist. Without the ability to lift her head any higher and study the lesion, whatever she did would be the result of little more than guess work.
More scarlet saliva bubbled from between Jon Rey's lips. Bay Don screwed her eyes closed and screamed inwardly. Come on! she ordered herself. Do something. Anything!
Opening her eyes again, she gripped the rim of the broken test tube and yanked it free from Jon Rey's throat.
ICS Fortitude, Bridge
"You beauty!" yelled Tc'aarlat, lifting Adina and spinning her around. "You did it!"
Adina blushed, returning to her seat. Solo had chastised the trio when they had decided to release their safety belts but they had chosen to ignore her protestations.
"How did you know that would work?"
Adina shrugged. "Honestly? I didn't. But, before we left, I was working on a magnetic force field addition to the armor the Queen's Bitches and Guardians wear into battle. This situation reminded me of how I eventually got that to work."
"We're very grateful," said Jack, typing furiously onto the screen of his tablet. "But that still doesn't tell us exactly what this situation is. I can't find any reference in the history documents Nathan gave us to suggest this is some kind of natural phenomenon on this planet."
He glanced briefly up at the screens. The ground below them, now easily identifiable as a major city covered with a blanket of crisp, white snow, was still rushing towards them. But their descent was now more controlled than before.
"Solo, any idea what caused this yet?"
Solo's face faded into view. "No."
Jack looked back up at the screen and noticed the avatar wasn't meeting his gaze. "Are you... Are you sulking because we took off our seatbelts?"
The E.I. turned her digitized head further to the side. "That would be a human reaction, Captain. As you are aware, I am not human and, as such, have neither the ability to sulk, nor the authority to tell you what to do. Even if it is merely a suggestion for your safety."
Jack puffed out his cheeks. "Put your safety belts back on, guys," he said flatly.
"What?" cried Tc'aarlat, “but she said-"
"Just do it!"
Grumbling, Tc'aarlat returned to his seat and worked at finding the clasp of his seatbelt underneath the heavy material of his cape once more.
CLICK!
"There!" he said, pulling at the twin straps that crossed his chest. "Now are you satisfied?"
Solo looked from Jack to Tc'aarlat, then on to Adina. Finally, she smiled. "Perfectly," she responded. "And to answer your question, Jack - I'm afraid I have been unable to ascertain a reason for these sudden gravitational waves.
“However, I have discovered they are not restricted to here in the planet's upper atmosphere. The effects are also being felt at ground level and, from what I can tell from news reports and emergency communications, causing a considerable amount of destruction."
Jack looked grave. "Any report of casualties?"
"Several, I'm afraid," replied Solo. "Would you like me to list them all for you?"
"That won't be necessary," said Jack. "Just get us down there safely, and we'll do what we can to help once we've landed."
"Of course."
Solo vanished, leaving the three crew members with their own thoughts.
"We need to find out what's behind this," commented Jack, "and, if at all possible, stop it from happening again."
"Especially as there are likely to be scores of foreign dignitaries headed this way for the president's funeral," Adina pointed out.
"I hadn't thought of that," admitted Tc'aarlat. "We won't be the only ones representing their home world or civilization at this funeral. There's likely to be all manner of important types there."
Jack looked serious as an unexpected burst of turbulence reminded them they had only just managed to escape the potentially deadly effects of the gravitational waves, and were now using the phenomenon in order to reach the ground and land safely.
"That is if they make it this far."
18
Alma Nine, Taron City, Weather Control Center, Main Laboratory
It took the medical team around 15 minutes to fight their way down the fractured stairwell and break into the basement labs once the unusual waves of pressure had finally stopped flowing.
In all, the city had been pummeled by these sudden surges in gravity for a little under an hour.
Bay Don sat back against the crumpled metal doors of the now useless elevator while a medic attended to the gash on her forehead. Thankfully, the wound wasn't too deep and, after a couple of stitches, the injury was able to be dressed, freeing the first responder up to help someone else.
She watched as Jon Rey was carried through the shattered doorway on a stretcher, injured but alive. Several evacuations had already been made, with the most badly injured transported to three of Taron City's hospitals - all of which were on high alert following the incident.
That just left the walking wounded, and those who hadn't survived.
As Bay Don climbed shakily to her feet, she glanced over to where three figures lay, unmoving, beneath lilac-colored sheets. Whatever had been the cause of the escalation in gravity had claimed its first victims.
And word was coming in that at least twenty more people had succumbed to the attack - if that was even the right word to use for what had happened - with hundreds of walking wounded.
On the opposite side of the laboratory, Zeb Lok clicked off his communicator and crossed to where Bay Don was standing. "I've just spoken to Yan Mil," he said. "He says he isn't hurt, but refuses to leave his apartment, or let doctors inside to check on him."
Bay Don shook her head disbelievingly. "I understand he's upset about his wife, but this is an emergency. Surely the entire building will have to be evacuated now."
"Apparently not," said Zeb Lok. "From what I'm hearing, this was the only floor where any of the structure gave way. Everyone injured on the upper levels were either hurt by flying glass, or by the force of being thrown to the ground.
And we have to continue our research into what has gone so wrong with the weather control systems."
The sound of scraping metal caused the pair to turn and look at where technical engineers were pulling one of the large mainframe computers from its chassis.
"Once we get our backup systems online, that is," Zeb Lok finished.
"I should get back to my office, if it's still standing," said Bay Don. "We'll need to find a safe place for the funeral committee to reconvene."
"You think Tor Val's Journey Back will still happen?"
"It has to," Bay Don replied. "Everything is in place, and there will be well-wishers arriving from all over the galaxy at any time."
As she turned to leave, Zeb Lok reached out and rested his hand on her arm. "I really think you'd be better off going home to rest," he suggested.
"No," said Bay Don flatly. "Tor Val wouldn't have let something like this stop her from carrying out her duties, and neither will I."
Zeb Lok nodded. The president's personal assistant was, of course, right.
He waited until Bay Don had crunched through the broken glass covering the lab's floor and disappeared into the stairwell before heading back to work himself.
ICS Fortitude, Bridge
Solo brought the ICS Fortitude in to land safely within a large vacant lot near to the city center. The cargo ship's vast landing gear sank into the ten inches of snow already covering the ground, while an ongoing blizzard threatened to add to the drifts already built up against each and every wall.
The ship had been less than a mile above the ground when the effect of the gravitational waves had suddenly and unexpectedly disappeared. The Fortitude had dropped like a stone for a few moments before the engines had rallied and managed to stabilize the descent.
"This isn't doing my insides any good," groaned Tc'aarlat, clutching at his stomach as the tips of his mandibles ground together.
"Maybe snacking on your bird's pet treats all trip wasn't the best idea," suggested Jack.
"They're tasty!" argued Tc'aarlat, dipping his hand into Mist's bowl and snaffling another handful of maize nuggets. He popped one into his mouth and crunched down on it. "Want one?"
Jack held up his hand, shaking his head. "No thanks," he replied. "I've got a nice bowl of dog food set aside for dinner, and I don't want to ruin my appetite."
Tc'aarlat glanced over towards Adina as she snorted back a laugh. 'Hey, I don't know what kind of food these people will be serving us while we're here," he pointed out. "I don't want to spend the next few days hungry because I don't want to eat some plate of weird alien worms."
Jack blinked. "Alien worms?"
"Well, I don't know, do I?"
"No, you're right," said Jack, turning back to his console. "Best get your fill of pet snacks in while you've got the opportunity."
"Exactly," said Tc'aarlat, missing the point entirely. Tossing the remaining pellets into the mouth, he reached for more, only to receive a hard peck on the back of his wrist from Mist.
"OW!" he cried, pulling his hand away and rubbing at the red mark on his thick skin. "What did you do that for?"
"I don't think she's in the mood for sharing," Adina commented.
Adina peered at the view outside the ship on the view screens. "I thought this planet had some state-of-the-art weather control system?"
"It does," said Jack. "At least, that's what the intel said."
"Maybe this is how they like things," suggested Tc'aarlat.
"What?" questioned Adina. "A freezing winter blizzard?"
"Maybe," Tc'aarlat replied. "It would certainly go well with all the shattered windows and crumbling brickwork on the buildings."
Jack snatched up his tablet and placed two fingers on the screen, spreading them apart. The image on the main view screens became magnified, focusing on an apartment block at the other side or the lot.
"I think that's new,” he said, studying the camera feed. "There's broken glass and chunks of masonry on top of the snowdrifts over there. They haven't been covered up yet."
Adina grabbed a set of headphones and slipped them on. "I can hear sirens outside, too. Lots of them." She flipped a switch, transferring the sound from the external microphones from her headset to the bridge's speakers.
The ship was suddenly filled with a mixture of shouts, screams and what could only be the sirens of a range of emergency vehicles.
"This isn't good," said Jack as Adina muted the sound. "Maybe those gravitational waves hit down here, as well. Solo, are you picking anything up about that?"
"Yes, Captain," Solo responded as she appeared in screen, her head floating in front of the destruction outside. "Several local news stations are reporting on what is being described as a recent surge in gravity, and the private radio channels used by law enforcement officers are being used to dispatch rescue crews to several locations across the city."
"We picked the perfect time to arrive then," said Tc'aarlat.
"Actually, the Malatians aren't yet aware that we have arrived," said Solo. "I followed procedure and hailed several of their space traffic control centers, but received no reply."
"They're likely to have had other things on their minds," said Adina. She opened a metal cabinet near to the rear bridge door and retrieved three thick coats, handing one each to Tc'aarlat and Jack.
"So, what now?" asked Tc'aarlat, untying the cape from around his throat. "Any idea where we're supposed to go? Or do we need to just wander the streets asking who ordere
d 16 miles of crowd control barriers?"
"Let's hope it doesn't come to that," said Jack, slipping his arms into his coat. "My guess is we should head for wherever Tor Val's office was. There should be somebody there who can put us in touch with Saf Tah."
"The guy who had the president bumped off?" asked Tc'aarlat.
Jack raised a finger to halt the Yollin's train of thought. "We don't know that's the case," he warned. "We have to go into this with an open mind."
"It's obvious," Tc'aarlat countered, pulling on his own coat and zipping it up. "He wants to be in charge, she's pushing ahead in the polls, so the only way he can get the top job is to eliminate the competition. Bish. Bosh. Job done."
"If that's what happened, we still need to find evidence to prove it," Jack reminded him.
Tc'aarlat shook his head. "Give me ten minutes with the guy. I can spot a liar a mile away."
"Yeah," said Adina, pulling up the fur-lined hood of her jacket. "You did such a great job with your suicide bomber pal, after all."
"That was different," argued Tc'aarlat.
Adina's eyes narrowed. "How?"
Tc'aarlat's mandibles opened and closed for a moment. "Well, he... That is, the... I mean..."
He sighed. "Jack didn't guess he was a terrorist either, and he's supposed to be the one who's trained to find them!"
"What about weapons?" Adina asked. "Should we take them?"
"That might not be a bad idea," replied Jack, turning to one of the bridge's control panels and tapping a code into a built-in keyboard. "But, keep them out of sight."
A drawer slid open, inside which were the three Jean Dukes Specials Nathan had provided for them, set in outlines perfectly cut from a piece of protective foam.
"Make sure you get the right one," he reminded Tc'aarlat and Adina. "They're isomorphic, and will only work if held by the registered owner."
"I was just about to say exactly that!" said Tc'aarlat, surprised. "Great minds drink alike!"
"Come on," said Jack, leading the way off the bridge and along the corridor to the nearest exit. "Solo, have you had any response from the local officials yet?"
