Scales

by Anthony G Williams

  Time was pressing, so I took the steps of the spiral stair three at a time. The gap in the wall led into a short tunnel, with two sets of rusting, massive steel doors, held open. Thick square bars like jagged teeth projected from the edge of the doors. The illumination cable ran along the ceiling. A third set of open doors led into a stair lobby; beyond was a doorway into a large circular space, from which the droning of an engine could be heard. I paused to check the electronic circuits before entering; there were no security cameras or detectors here. The room was mostly empty, the most obvious objects being the electricity generator, with ventilation and exhaust tubes snaking up to the ceiling, and a small tracked vehicle, fitted with cameras and manipulating devices. It looked like one of the contraptions used by bomb disposal crews, and when I saw the fruit and nut containers stacked alongside I realised that this was my remote-controlled waiter. My captors must have chosen this method of delivering food to keep the maximum distance from me when restocking. There were some remains of racks and desking in the room, and it suddenly dawned on me where I was; in an old ballistic missile silo. This must have been the launch control centre.

  I returned to the stair lobby and headed upwards, following the lights. The stair twisted and turned on itself and passed through yet more blast doors, before a final straight stretch led to another steel door which looked newer than the rest. I tried the handle – it was locked. I looked down and saw a knob below the handle. I turned it and pushed, and the heavy door slowly opened. A cold autumn wind whipped around the door, reminding me that I was still only wearing my swimming shorts, but at first I could see little; it was dark outside. I stepped out onto bare earth, with a sparse covering of what felt like dead grass. I closed the door behind me and looked around as my versatile eyes rapidly adjusted for the darkness. A half-moon provided some light through a layer of cloud. The silo entrance stuck up from the ground, like a sentry box with a sloping back. As far as I could see, the ground was flat, covered with rough grass and with a few scattered, leafless trees. A track led away from the entrance so I decided to follow it, as there was no obvious alternative destination.

  First, though, I had to sever my mental link with the security system. I had already stretched it as far as I could, which was much further than I would have believed possible before the days of practice I had put in while lying in my cell. I took a deep breath, and released the camera lock: the cameras would now be showing an empty cell. I hoped that the watchmen, knowing I had settled down for what they assumed was my usual long "sleep", would not be paying much attention to their monitors. I began to run, thinking of UCAVs, thermal imaging cameras and guided missiles; the landscape was depressingly devoid of cover.

  The track led to a new-looking fence with some locked gates, which I vaulted. This area seemed to be entirely farmland, big square fields lying dormant after the harvest. A few miles away, I could see fast-moving lights – it had to be a road. I increased my pace and reached the road half an hour later. The occasional vehicle sped past, giving me no chance to climb on board, and I judged that thumbing a lift might be unwise. I tossed a mental coin, turned to the right and started running parallel to the road, keeping out of range of vehicle headlights. I settled to the steady rhythm I had got used to in my travels across northern Europe, and switched onto autopilot as I began to think about my next move.

  My luck held for a remarkably long time; an uneventful hour and a half after leaving the silo a glow of light ahead revealed civilisation, which manifested itself as a truck stop and trailer park. I loved the words "truck stop"; they announced my free and secret transport system around the country. It took me only a few minutes to get on board a likely-looking vehicle by mentally overriding the electronic switch which controlled the tailgate; I blessed the spread of advanced technology. I chose one with a warm engine in the hope that the driver was only making a brief stop. Indeed she was, as a few minutes later I sensed a woman approaching. She climbed into the cab, started the engine and moved off.

  I began to relax a little. I didn't really care where I went, as long as it was far away from the vicinity of the silo, as quickly as possible. I judged that the worst of the danger was over, unless my captors had the clout to start throwing road-blocks around a wide area. My next move would be difficult. I needed to get hold of some essentials – most urgently, the materials for another home-made headnet – but at the same time had to avoid being spotted. To complicate matters further, dawn was breaking. I decided to stay with the truck and see what happened.

  The truck was a delivery vehicle, loaded with cardboard boxes. I assumed that it had been loaded rationally, with the first deliveries at the back, and buried myself at the front in a nest of boxes. As the light improved and glowed through the translucent roof, I read some of the addresses. There were all for Kansas, with the rearmost showing a Wichita address. Shortly afterwards, I sensed that driver was preparing to stop. The vehicle slowed and pulled up, and an electrical buzz announced the lowering of the tailgate. The driver climbed into the back and heaved out some boxes. I took a quick look and saw that we were in a built-up area – no chance of escape there, in broad daylight.

  After several more drops the driver stopped, evidently for lunch judging by the sensations of hunger I was picking up. There weren't many boxes left and I sensed from her mind that she wasn't far from the end of her journey; I would probably get no better chance to leave. I waited until I could scan no-one within range, then let myself out. I was at another truck stop, surrounded by massive vehicles. I quickly scouted the view from the sides of the truck park, and saw that we were at the edge of a town. It was still a basically flat, farm country, but there was a small copse of bare trees next to the truck stop. Some undergrowth promised minimal cover, so I did a final sweep to check that no-one was looking, and headed for the copse.

  I waited long after dusk, until the early hours when nothing stirred, to make my raid on the town's unsuspecting electrical merchant. I stayed in the building, having mentally overridden the security system – now a matter of reflex rather than effort – and borrowed an electric soldering iron to create the headnet. As soon as I put it on I held Freya's signature in my mind and cast around for her, without response. I tried the saurians and Tertia's presence washed around my mind.

  'Where have you been? We have lost you for two weeks!'

  'Otherwise engaged. Where's Freya?'

  'We don't know. We saw that you were pulled out of the water and brought to the land. Then Freya was tracked by that unmanned aeroplane and captured by the troops. You were both then taken by helicopter to Keflavik, where you were transferred to a private jet. This flew to a small airfield near Washington, where you were transferred to different vehicles. So far, we were able to track you visually. But then you were put into different vans, which went into warehouses from which several similar vans emerged simultaneously. We were not able to see which vans either of you was put in, so we lost both of you.'

  'Was Freya OK?'

  'We think so. You were both drugged by the time you arrived at Keflavik. We haven't had any contact with her since; they must have found and removed her headnet.'

  I thought about this for a moment. My first priority had to be to find and release Freya – for both personal and more strategic reasons. I could think of only one person who might be able to help. Fortunately, I found a digital phone by the service desk.

  'Can you patch through a call for me?'

  'Of course.'

  I gave Tertia the number and waited, calculating time differences. It should be about mid-morning….

  'Hello?'

  'Good morning Richards, nice to speak with you again.'

  A brief silence, but he recovered quickly. 'Where have you been?'

  'In a silo. I need to find Freya. She was taken at the same time and is almost certainly somewhere in the States.'

  He was silent for a moment. 'I'll see what I can do.'

  'It's still very early here, so I don't expec
t you'll discover much for a while. I'll call you back in a few hours.'

  I broke the call and looked out of the window. The sky was beginning to lighten. I left the shop with a mental apology to the shop owners, taking the phone handset with me.

  I spent the next few hours in the little copse by the truck stop, briefing the saurians on exactly what had happened, and laying plans for the next few days. They were amazed to learn that I could override electronic systems.

  'You mean that you can't?'

  'No, only via a radio link through a headnet – but the systems have to be set up for that.' Primo was silent for a while, then concluded, 'well, it is a truism that hybrids are often stronger than either of the contributory species, and that seems to be the case with you. I wonder what else you can do?'

  Later I had a brief nap to recharge my mental batteries, and ate and drank some provisions I had lifted from another shop. I was beginning to settle into a life of petty crime; but at least I wasn't leaving any fingerprints behind. Then I called Richards. He sounded brisk and upbeat.

  'I've managed to speak to some of my contacts in the US intelligence services – I've known them personally for years and can trust them. They know that you were both taken by an unofficial group, which has links within their services. They are not at all happy about this situation, and have done their best to locate Freya. They can't get her released, but they believe that she is probably being held at a country house owned by this group, in Virginia.'

  He gave me the address, to the west of the town of Winchester, and rang off with a final 'good hunting!' I contacted Primo, who had taken over the watch, and asked him to plot me a course. Using the signal from my headnet he was able to pin down my location to just outside Wichita, Kansas, as I had thought, and used internet maps to plot the best route for me to take. The distance was well over a thousand miles.

  Many hours of switching between trucks followed. It was a gamble not knowing where the trucks were going – I could hardly ask the drivers – so I relied on the saurians to keep track of my position and tell me if I was going in the wrong direction. I felt I was playing snakes and ladders, winning on one trip then getting a setback on the next. I was still a long way away when night fell, so stopped off near a motel and checked the cars outside. Bypassing their electronic locks, security and ignition systems was an easy task, so I checked several cars before finding one with a full tank.

  A seemingly endless night of driving along countless miles of straight roads followed, with a switch to a different car from another motel when my original acquisition began to run low on fuel. I felt consumed by a desperate anxiety to reach Freya as quickly as possible, especially after Tertia had brought me up to speed with events since my capture.

  'There has been much speculation about your disappearance. Some argue that you have been captured and killed by the people who attacked the Long Island house. The disappearance of Freya has also been noticed and the two events are being tentatively linked – some are joking that you have eloped together. Others claim that you are our tool for achieving world domination and that now you have served your immediate purpose, you are being held in reserve for some future event.'

  'What about the wider picture?'

  'The world remains deeply divided about you, and us. The technical information we provided has been verified, which has helped a great deal. The UN is actively engaged in brokering arrangements to make the lower-level technologies widely available. For the first time, there is a sense of optimism among those supporting a technological solution to the environmental problem.'

  'There's a "but" there somewhere…'

  'Yes, there is still intense opposition. Not so much to the environmental help we can provide but to the proposals to find ways of restricting the birth rate and reducing the world's population. This is led by many religions who regard the idea as blasphemous, and they have turned many parts of the world against us. As you can imagine, the USA is particularly divided. I'm afraid that your brother has been outspoken in his condemnation of the idea.'

  I sighed, wondering how a man could be so intelligent and so concerned to do good, yet be channelled by his religious beliefs into rejecting the only long-term solution to the problems faced by humanity.

  I finally reached my destination as a cold dawn was breaking, the first snap of early winter in the air. It was a large estate in hilly, wooded country. I drove past the entrance gates, which were high wire-mesh affairs in an equally high fence; I detected various sensors and intruder alarms. I could not see the house from the road. I drove past and parked off the road on the opposite side, down a short track which concealed the car from passers-by.

  I walked over to the fence, traced and disabled the security systems with a few moments' thought and vaulted over. After passing through a belt of trees I came out into a wide open grassy space, white with early frost, with a house in the middle. It was large, with a columned portico on the front, and its white paint was glowing orange in the dawn light. A wooded ridge of higher land rose behind the building. I scanned the house and discovered half a dozen men, all but one asleep – apparently they had not imagined that I could locate them so quickly, as they seemed to be taking no special precautions. I also found Freya. I woke her up with a nudge and the next few moments of contact I will leave to your imagination.

  I felt a fierce grin spread across my face as I froze the image from the external CCTV cameras and began to run towards the house – this was payback time. Three dark shadows sped across the grass towards me. I scanned the ferocious little minds of the attack dogs and pressed the appropriate mental buttons. They skidded to a halt and stood for a moment as I ran past them, then turned and sped after me. I had become their pack leader and they were mine, now – weapons to be launched with a thought. I accelerated as I reached the front door and smashed into it with such violence that it was hurled down the hallway. I sensed the startled response of the guard, the others groggily beginning to waken. My mind swept over them, dropping them into unconsciousness. I ran up the stairs and broke open the door to Freya's room. She was standing fully dressed in the centre of the room, and looked at me with a wry smile on her face.

  'Like the colour – it complements your eyes.'

  I looked down and saw that my skin was a flaring crimson, just beginning to fade. 'Can you sort out some food and drink to take with us? I have some work to do.'

  I went around the guards, checking their IDs and making adjustments to the patterns of their minds. The leader I woke and grilled for a while. I was not gentle with his mind and he crashed into unconsciousness when I released him. Then I went back to the hall where Freya was waiting, clutching a couple of bags. We walked out onto the grass where the dogs sat; they gave brief wags of acknowledgement. I contacted Secundo and we waited. There was a short pause before a shattering explosion ripped up the turf on the lawn a hundred metres away – the dogs jumped up and barked with shock. We walked over to the patch of torn earth and burnt grass, collected the silvery ovoid and put on the headnets inside. Freya sighed with relief as she regained contact with the saurians. I took out the patch from the ovoid and passed it to her. She pressed it against her arm. This time, we didn't bother to watch it being absorbed.

  We took one of the cars parked around the back – a big SUV which fortunately had its side and rear windows darkened – and drove off, leaving the dogs looking forlorn. I contacted Secundo, spelling out what I wanted him to do. 'These are the details of the men in the house, plus those of the men who control them and where they are based. I want you to send emails to every news agency, describing how we were captured, where we were held and by whom.' He agreed and signed off.

  'That will put the proverbial cat among the pigeons.' Freya commented.

  'So I hope. As an added twist, I have given a strong stimulus to the development of conscience and guilt in the minds of the guards. They won't be of any use to their organisation any more, and might even give evidence against them.'
r />   Freya drove towards Washington and we caught up with events along the way. She reported that although the guards had found her headnet, she had been able to convince them that I had only given it to her so that I could locate her more easily; they had no suspicion of her mental abilities. She had been practising with those, but found that although she could sense the guards and their moods easily enough anywhere in the house, she was unable to influence them at a distance; it seemed that the more limited modifications which the saurians had incorporated in her patch had restricted her abilities by comparison with mine.

  As we entered Washington I slipped into the rear seat, the smoked glass concealing my identity. The Embassy of Iceland was in a rather dull, modern, box-shaped building on 15th Street NW. After driving past, we found a car park and Freya left me in the car while she visited the embassy. I remained in contact with her as she walked into the building and took a lift to the embassy on the twelfth floor. At the reception, she explained who she was and asked to see the Ambassador, whom she knew well. After a slight delay caused by Freya's lack of ID, the Ambassador came out to meet her and ushered her into his office. She explained what had happened to her and to me – it would soon all be on the news anyway – while leaving out any reference to her new-found abilities, let alone the second stage of our plan. An hour later, she walked out of the Embassy with a new passport, an Embassy credit card and a substantial wad of cash.