Redemption Protocol (Contact)

by Mike Freeman

  The next wave screeched off the ground toward him.

  The SLAM burned down through the atmosphere above as if God himself was partitioning the sky with a line of fire.

  Havoc willed himself onward, throwing his arms out for the landing on the second tower, ready to tuck on impact.

  The SLAM neared the alien tower, accelerating all the way, as unstoppable as divine justice.

  Havoc landed, rolled forward and crashed sideways into a low wall, sparks flying off his suit. He crashed into a pillar and whipped around it. His suit registered a thousand Gs on impact. He didn't notice as he swung round and lifted on his jetpack, aiming for the center of the tower as he tried to maximize his cover. This was going to be close.

  Behind him, color stopped existing. There was only white, brilliant, stunning light. It didn't end. The moment stretched, spreading, thinning, then distilling, pooling and burning. The light faded for an instant then was renewed, brighter and stronger. The light crystallized into energy, intensity and scorching heat. Flame rolled up around everything. The atmosphere burned. The temperature of his suit rose one thousand, two thousand, three thousand degrees. The carbon nanofilaments neared their threshold of delamination and structural failure as the temperature peaked at three thousand three hundred degrees Celsius.

  His sensors whited out as the hydrodynamic shock front roared up the tower past him, sucking out the atmo from around the tower. He jetted hard as he was torn away from the building, giving it everything at full burn as he was plucked outward, unable to resist as he thrust against vacuum. The wave peaked, collapsed and the atmo plunged back into the empty space. He went from being dragged outward to being flung back in. He shot into the wall of the tower. Peak impact at four thousand Gs. A dent in his helmet. He dropped and hit the floor beneath him. Alive. He must send the Morvent Academy a card.

  The radiation reading spiked. The nuke was relatively clean but it was inevitable only ten kilometers above a SLAM. It was fine, he didn't care, he just wanted to know.

  Had the fucking thing worked?

  ~ ~ ~

  Tyburn listened to the disconcerting silence.

  “Intrepido. Are you there?”

  “My three blades are gone, vaporized. We still have thirteen salvos and the G6. I don't understand.”

  “Can you see anything?”

  “It's clearing now.”

  “And?”

  “What the fuck...”

  “What's happening, Intrepido? Just talk us through it.”

  “The tower. The alien tower. It's falling.”

  “Falling?”

  “The SLAM hit the base of the tower. The whole thing is toppling toward us. Fuck. Fucking hell.”

  “Hit it.”

  “I'm launching remaining missiles.”

  “Just keep us in touch with what's happening.”

  “Fuck. Who the fuck is this guy?”

  “Keep it together, Intrepido.”

  “Our batteries are depleted. We could be in trouble here.”

  “It's ok, Intrepido, you'll get him.”

  “That tower is falling toward our position. It’s going to land on our position. Holy fuck. Instrumentation rates it massing overthree billion tonnes!”

  “Calm down, Intrepido.”

  “Do we pull out?”

  “No, definitely not. I'll give him something else to worry about.”

  Tyburn turned to Ekker.

  “Patch me into the crane controls.”

  ~ ~ ~

  Havoc felt the tremors ripple up the tower as it broke free from the ground, uprooted as though it were Yggdrasil, the mighty world tree. The movement started slowly as the tower toppled forward. The momentum built, thundering and irresistible, like Thor’s hammer swooping down on an enemy.

  He jetted up the side of the tower as the angle changed beneath him. The tower plunged through the atmosphere, slicing through the weather as it gained speed.

  Twenty one seconds to impact.

  The sky overhead glowed golden-copper in the crucible of the approaching dawn and the atmospheric aurora caused by the nuclear detonations. The SLAM mushroom cloud hung behind him, the maroon cumuliform stretched out in a scream where the falling tower dragged it forward. Like a medieval knight plunging across the battlefield, the tower plowed through wave after wave of incoming fire, shrugging off the missile strikes as it accelerated toward Forge's base.

  Intrepido’s missiles spiraled up around it, detonating like fireflies trying to arrest a falling giant. The atmo blasted past full of smoke and dust.

  His backdrop was hell and he was the Wrath of God, accelerating toward the surface.

  169.

  In a world of agony Stone swayed in the darkness. He hung from the hook with his eyes pressed shut against the pain.

  A soothing female voice notified him.

  “You have two minutes of air remaining.”

  He wanted to die. He'd lost hope. He never thought he'd be wishing for his own death but there it was. He just wanted it to end.

  He’d been so overwhelmed by what had happened on the hook platform that he’d forgotten to vene painkillers. He’d rectified that on the way down but even with painkillers the pain was unbearable. He couldn't believe that he'd followed fashion and rejected hytelline for a drug that was 'just as good but more natural and not as addictive.' He'd like to tell the gorgeous shop assistant who'd sold him this shit that herbal remedies have their fucking limitations when you're hanging from a hook in your face. God it hurt so much.

  He eyed Tyburn’s limpet on his shoulder. He could just communicate and end his life – the limpet would blow him to pieces. He was terrified of asphyxiation but he didn't have the guts to detonate himself. He told himself that he wouldn't suffocate to death, that he would transmit before that happened. He felt a vibration as he was buffeted by the wind. He squinted down at the limpet.

  It was gone.

  He must be was hallucinating. He squinted again. The limpet was definitely gone. It was now or never. He summoned his reserves and tensed, expecting the worst.

  > Havoc, can you hear me?

  He didn't explode. Given his intolerable pain, this was a mixed blessing. He was going to run out of air in about a minute’s time.

  > Havoc, can you hear me?

  ~ ~ ~

  Havoc crouched high on the side of the tower. The wind blasted across his suit as he rode three billion tonnes of alien architecture toward Forge's base at the shaft.

  Thirteen seconds to impact. He'd positioned himself to land close to the lip of the shaft. He braced himself, ready to unleash hell.

  > Havoc, can you hear me?

  > Glad to hear you're alive, Stone.

  > I'm not. I'm hanging in the shaft by my face! My fucking face! They––

  > Shut up, Stone. Where are you?

  > Hanging on the crane cable. By my face! My air, I don't––

  Havoc sprinted down the falling tower.

  > Stay there.

  > That’s fucking hilarious. I’m low on air. How long will you be?

  > I'll drop in any second.

  ~ ~ ~

  Stone tried to convey the seriousness of the situation.

  > I don't have long, Havoc. Seriously.

  > I won't be long, Stone. Seriously.

  Stone fell with the hook thrust through his face and the cable extending above him. Just when he thought Havoc might come and save him.

  > Fuck, Havoc! I'm falling! They've dropped me! Help!

  He eyed the cable above him. It looked like they’d released the drum. Stone knew what was coming next. The cable was spliced in five hundred meter lengths. He'd done it himself. He’d drop four kilometers – five hundred meters past the shaft – then the cable would come taut and his jaw would be ripped off his face.

  “You have thirty seconds of air remaining.”

  As if having his face ripped off wasn’t enough, it would be followed by a five minute plummet to certain death while he asphy
xiated. He was going to have plenty of time to think about the final impact while he suffocated on the way down. He felt sorry for himself. All that was left for him was pain.

  The atmosphere whipped past him. He accelerated with the hook and the cable – sinister partners in his descent. The pressure was off his jaw and neck now, a temporary respite before his grand finale. His feet floated up and he fell on his back with his hands tied behind him, facing the mouth of the shaft above him.

  He couldn't work out at what point the cable would come tight. He scanned the walls for the imminent appearance of the slot. His jaw was going to be ripped off before he fell two hundred kilometers without it. He couldn't face it; he couldn't prepare. He just wanted to die and get it over with. Why hadn’t Tyburn just shot him?

  He fell, still accelerating, tensing in anticipation.

  > Havoc, please!

  170.

  Jafari and Abbott stood on the disc illuminated by the column of light. Jafari scanned the disc around them. Abbott stared up into the light.

  “Anything?”

  Jafari shook his head.

  “Nothing I can see, Ambassador. We need one of the scientists to access the altar. I think we can assume that the process of releasing the alien has commenced.”

  Abbott stared upward.

  “Agreed, but how?”

  “I’ve no idea how he got in. There may be entrances we don’t know about. I assume the alien instructed the Nmr Qátl how to free it.”

  “What about him?”

  Jafari glanced up at the Gathering soldier. The Nmr Qátl paid them no attention. Jafari shrugged.

  “In my experience, he’s probably smashed out of his face.”

  “You don’t think we should remove him?”

  ‘You don’t think you should remove him?’ Abbott was saying.

  “I don’t see any point. Do you?”

  Abbott gazed into the column of light.

  “No. I think that whatever is coming is coming. We need to be ready to greet it.”

  “Do you want to stay on the platform, Ambassador?”

  Abbott swung round to him.

  “Without question.”

  “There is a risk...”

  “Irrespective of the risk.”

  Jafari nodded. Abbott’s response was what he’d expected. This was going to be something to tell the kids about, that was for sure. He just prayed they got the chance. He surveyed the chamber as he considered the tactical layout.

  “I think I might get a better view from the colonnade, Ambassador.”

  I will have a better field of fire from the colonnade, Ambassador.

  Abbott nodded.

  “I understand. I’ll remain here with the welcoming party.”

  “You’re sure, Sir?”

  “I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life, Jafari.”

  Jafari nodded at Abbott with admiration.

  “Good luck, Ambassador.”

  “And you, Jafari.”

  Jafari stepped off the platform and flew down to his equipment cluster at the base of the great arch through the colonnade. Above his position, Havoc had concealed a heat hide high on the wall. Only he and Abbott knew about it.

  The diplomatic party stood on the translucent disc high above him. They looked small and insubstantial against the dramatic backdrop of the amphitheater and the gigantic pillar of light towering over them.

  The Gathering fanatic knelt before the altar, suffused with light, with his arms outstretched as he lived his prophesy. The halo was halfway down the pillar of light and continued, inexorably, to descend.

  171.

  Stone looked upward as he was battered by the cross winds. The sky was a blend of dark copper hues as sunrise approached. He wasn't going to live to see the dawn, of course.

  He braced himself for his jaw to be ripped off his face. He hoped it would end quickly. He watched, with fascinated horror, as the spiraling cable narrowed above him.

  The air alert flashed in his mind’s eye.

  “You have no air remaining.”

  Oh shit.

  Please God, don’t let me die of asphyxiation.

  Something came into view over the lip of the shaft. Something big. Stone couldn't identity it. The scale was wrong. It was huge. Enormous. And, inexplicably, it was growing.

  A giant object darkened the sky across the shaft, spanning the entire three kilometer wide mouth above him. Tiny fragments of debris buzzed around it. One speck flew toward him, expanding rapidly.

  A block the size of a house shrieked past. The atmo burned at its passing. Stone couldn’t believe it. The massive structure overhead continued to grow improbably. Debris rained down around him. What was going on?

  His mind struggled to reconcile his new reality. The gargantuan structure accelerated toward him. He was going to be killed by a giant object falling on him. God had heard his plea not to die of suffocation and sent this tower in its place.

  God was a total bastard.

  Streaks of white lightning burst like tracer fire from the lip of the shaft. Stone didn’t understand. Tyburn was shooting at a falling building? Explosions rippled along the side of the tower above him.

  An ocean of debris exploded outward from the lip of the shaft as the main body of the building struck the planet’s surface. The sky vanished in dust and darkness. The noise was incredible. Giant boulders shrieked past as if he were lost in a meteor field.

  The massive building burst through the cloud above him.

  The drag of the hook on his jaw increased. He watched, hypnotized, as the snaking coils of cable straightened. The end was coming. Fuck. His jaw. He braced himself for the hook to tear his face off.

  A silhouette broke free from the alien building. A burst of blue flame sparked out as the figure jetted toward him.

  Havoc was above Stone, his presence stronger than matter. Havoc grabbed Stone’s chest and extracted the hook from his mouth. Stone screamed silently as the hook pulled free. Havoc grabbed the cable as he lifted Stone, holding him above his head. Stone frowned. The cable came taut.

  Sparks showered off the cable as Havoc slid down it, absorbing the shock of the impact by simultaneously lowering Stone. The deceleration was still explosive. Stone felt stunned as Havoc spun him and clipped him to his suit.

  Stone gazed down. The massive building fell away into the abyss. Dust and debris swirled everywhere. The roar was incredible. He was dumbstruck. He swung, disoriented, barely able to breathe. Shit.

  > Havoc, my air.

  Something was pushed into his side.

  A female voice spoke reassuringly.

  “You have twenty minutes of air remaining.”

  He couldn't believe it.

  He was alive.

  172.

  Alerts lit up in Jafari's mind's eye.

  > We have visitors, Ambassador.

  > I see them.

  Gathering soldiers filed in to the amphitheater as if they were entering a religious service. Their body language was reverent and their faces were awestruck as they gazed around the chamber. One reached out and tenderly touched the wall of the colonnade.

  Jafari watched the Gathering advance toward the double helix staircase. He relaxed a little as they knelt down before it.

  > I think we’re ok, Ambassador.

  > Very good, Jafari. Not long now, I think.

  The Gathering continued to trickle in over the next few minutes.

  In time, twenty three Gathering men knelt at the base of the left stair case, unevenly arranged in eight rows.

  Jafari smiled wryly. Everything in the Gathering was strictly hierarchical. The suit markings indicated that the men nearest the staircase held the highest ranks. Jafari wondered about the job of the poor guy on his own in the eighth row.

  At random intervals the three men in the front row would fling themselves forward to prostrate themselves and, like a rippling wave, those in the rows behind them would follow suit. Each row remained in a supplicat
ed position a little longer than the row in front of them. The guy at the back hardly had a chance to look up.

  Jafari watched Arzbad-Framander Zuelth waddle in like a giant duck and make his way past the others. The men already present began bowing so frequently it looked like Zuelth's presence was generating a standing wave. Presumably Zuelth was getting some credit for the Nmr Qátl stationed on the altar overhead.

  Zuelth and an aide made their way up the spiral staircase and joined the party on the disc platform, where they stopped.

  Jafari smiled.

  Zuelth wanted to be close, but not the closest.

  173.

  Havoc raised Stone toward the surface through thick clouds of dust. The turbulence was rough but more manageable than before. Strangely the tower collapsing seemed to have, at least temporarily, knocked the weather into a more stable state.

  Havoc cupped one hand loosely around the cable as he jetted upward. He'd clipped Stone to the chest of his suit, facing outward, so that he had his hands free. Stone’s jaw might be a bloody mess but he was managing to communicate just fine. After thanking Havoc for saving his life, Stone had moved on to more immediate matters.

  > My face! My fucking face!

  > You'll be ok.

  > Have you seen it, my face, Havoc!

  > Yes.

  > Can you believe they did that to me! I mean, can you––

  > Stone.

  > I just––

  > Stone, shut up.

  > But––

  Havoc monitored their surroundings carefully, senses alert for the next inevitable attack.

  > Man up, Stone. So you lost half your face. It wasn’t much to look at anyway. He did you a favor. Now will you please shut the fuck up?

  Blessed silence.

  He approached the lip, scanning. Intrepido would have something left, he knew it. He just hoped the alien tower had landed on it.