The ADF shape dwindled to a tiny dot and with it the cone became smaller. Now visible with a defined length it stuck out from the dot like a megaphone end.
"So what I've done here is demonstrate the area the box might be in, supposing it's survived."
"Stop saying it like that." Mario's head was already in his hands.
"What?"
"Don't say . . . supposing it's survived, this is hard enough to bear anyway."
Nelson shrugged. "Anyway, I've stretched the cone out in this diagram ten thousand kilometers from the impact point . . . we know the likely range of speeds of the debris so we can estimate the area of the base of that cone for a starting point. Mario, look at it, just ten thousand kilometers out gives an area of space to search of three hundred and fourteen thousand square kilometers, and we're looking for a box smaller than some bread bins. Add to that the volume aspect; depending on the speed of the box we could be looking at a volume of space around thirty million cubic kilometers."
Mario shrugged with resignation, "I know you're not finished and you're going to tell me anyway, so what's your point?"
"You know the point, in the time since the impact the box hasn't traveled ten thousand kilometers; it's traveled millions. Imagine how large the area is at the end of that cone. If we charge off now we'll never find it. We've got to narrow things down even more."
Mario changed form to appear standing, racing leathers glistening. He grasped Nelson by the arms.
"Nelson, it's possibly already too late. We've done well to find even these bits. Just finding another piece could be as hard as finding the box itself. It's time to move. Maybe ninety nine percent certain is too much. Maybe seventy percent certain is as good as it's going to get. I say take the centre line of the cone we know and head out. We can make adjustments as we find other pieces along the way."
Nelson looked like the weight of the sun was on his shoulders and his shoulders slumped in despair. "You're probably right; we've done all we can realistically, but I still feel we're taking such a chance."
Mario rested a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Not everything in life can be certain."
And they accelerated, instantly and continually. They would keep on going until they reached the beginning of a likely search area; from there they would commence an ever widening grid search as they chased the hoped for box, a box that may not even be there, and if necessary, they would do it for eternity, if that's what it takes.
Day ninety three . . .
* * *
Hillary Station, the Solar System, Home
Regan nestled back into her seat, enjoying contact with Jared as Hillary Station grew on the large screen. As she sat she updated in the most significant merge with an alter ego she had experienced. It had only been months and yet so much had happened, overwhelming things. She hugged Jared for comfort as she absorbed the news, shedding tears over Rod and the three other crew members. Thankfully Jared seemed to intuitively know her needs and didn't try to escape, melding to her as the minutes ticked by.
She listened to the enthusiastic chatter around her; the group's excitement so different to her own emotions, and that sense of difference prompted her to drift in her thinking, musing on the future.
How did it all happen? Titular head of the entire Gliese system . . . STEIN Corp, the leaders in space in the Solar system, and now I'm called to be the savior of . . . She hesitated in her thoughts; still not sure of the answer to that question, . . . ooh, wherever.
"Ham . . . am I a moth to a flame?" She asked, not really expecting a reply. She had another thought.
"Ham, are you there?"
"You know I'm always here."
"Does it bother you, what Bob said?"
"Everything about Bob bothers me, but I sense you're talking about the two streams."
"Yeah, he talked about it like the two streams merge with me, and yet he seemed to give no regard to you. You're as much a part of me as the other way around, in fact it's almost like I'm becoming more Mind every day and you're becoming more human."
"And we merge in the middle, babe."
"What was it Bob called it?" And she shook her head in wonder.
. . . The confluence point.
* * *
Epilogue
Day two thousand one hundred and thirteen . . .
The two bearded men bickered. On screen they were staring at an asteroid, traveling outward like them but on a different path and out of their current search area. It was a magnet to Mario.
"Nelson," he pleaded, "it would only be a tiny diversion and we're both bored to snores, come on - let's just go and have a quick look."
"I've told you, it's outside the search area and you know it, it'll put us way back." Nelson refused even to look at him.
Mario fumed. "Stuff it you pedant, we can get back to this same point later. It might be interesting, lighten up will you." Without seeking agreement he wrested control of the Saucer, hauling it about in a power turn and accelerating toward the object.
Nelson thumped the console. "You shit! This is outrageous; you could be playing with her life."
"Don't use that one on me! We can be back in no time, and to roughly the same point. Then we can just continue on as if nothing happened. Go with me on this."
The accountant raged but it was too late anyway and he joined Mario in focusing on the asteroid as the racing driver narrowed the one hundred and seventy thousand kilometer gap at an alarming rate.
It was the size of a small moon, a fortune in minerals if headed in the right direction.
"Don't even think about it! We are not playing with this thing." Nelson could tell Mario was considering it, already maneuvering the craft to give the rock a significant nudge.
They were now so close they could have reached out to touch it if they had a window, and Mario guided the Saucer across the face, ridiculously close as if stroking it; an asteroid comber, searching . . .
. . . And there it was, nuzzling the rock as if for comfort; a chance connection, the faint gravity of the asteroid's mass proving just enough to attract and hold it. The box looked surprisingly intact; a few rough edges but otherwise whole.
The two figures stood galvanized, eyes glued to the screen, neither able to speak and both wearing looks of stunned disbelief. They became gripped by intense nervousness, unable to even move for some time. Drifting a little way off the rock Mario positioned them to just hang there and stare in uncertainty. It was Nelson who finally broke the impasse.
"We've avoided talking about this moment you know."
"I know . . ."
"So let's go through the possibilities, and then decide how we handle them."
Mario appeared to suck in a big breath, and then exhaled his tension. "It could be dead."
"It . . . you mean she could be dead." Nelson went pale in the soft light.
"Same thing, it's been so long, it would have been merciful if it were true."
"It would still have been worth hunting."
"Of course . . . we couldn't take the chance." Mario had both hands to his head, massaging the scalp.
"But we don't know anything yet, let's say she is alive, in what state might she be?" Like Mario, Nelson’s eyes remained glued to the box as if he was afraid it would disappear if he turned away, even for a second.
"It doesn't bear thinking about Nelson. Regan's resilient, we know that."
"Yes . . . but Mario, we need to consider what to do if she's irredeemable."
"We can't leave her there, suffering."
"One of us needs to go in." Nelson said with certainty.
"And if we find she's damaged . . . or gone mad?"
"Then we end the suffering, but I won't let her die there on her own."
"And you think I would?" Mario turned on him sharply.
"Of course not," Nelson turned to him sadly, "I was always thinking I, as in us."
Mario turned back to the screen, thoughtful. "We could always play for it, you know, paper r
ock scissors?" But even as he made the suggestion he didn't look happy with the idea.
The two men looked at each other knowingly.
"You couldn't bear it either could you," Nelson said smiling, "existing on your own, half a mind?"
Mario laughed. "You're a pain in the backside, but you do help me get things done."
"And that hologram was a good idea." Nelson conceded.
Without another word they instantly merged into one again; left and right brain type joining to remake the one whole, the beautiful man.
It was a simple plan, Ham would split himself again into two completes. Two hours would be the time frame; one Ham would search the box, the other would wait. If nothing was heard within the time limit the waiting Ham would know the truth. It would mean Regan was alive, but lost to them; and she would not die alone. They wouldn't leave her to suffer there for eternity; the Ham with her would bring about the end for them both.
* * *
Dark, it was depressingly dark . . .
Ham searched through the gloom, the evidence of attempted and past construction all around him. It was a vaguely familiar place, pine trees, rolling ground, but no depth to the scene, and tacky under foot. Taking his time he wandered through what little forest he could make out, zigzagging through scattered trees, alert and more confident now and feeling all the better for taking action.
There was no sound, not birds or wind, and no evident life, certainly not people. Looking up he saw the trees petered out not far above his head and with no high branches, just murky blackness. His foot caught painfully on a branch and he stumbled, glancing down in annoyance, a chance look that caused his gaze to drift off centre to the faint light of a tent in the distance.
Walking quickly now he tripped several times, the ground underfoot littered with spiky branches and each time he stumbled the sticky surface caused him to falter. He made steady progress and reaching the tent flap he slowed, acutely sensitive to the unstable environment. He paused there, suddenly nervous, not sure how to proceed.
"Regan . . ." He called softly.
"Regan?" He called again . . . with no reply.
Taking the flap in one hand he gently pulled it to the side, flipping it over the tent roof to rest there and then stepped cautiously inside.
It was empty with a dirty sleeping bag bundled in one corner. There was no groundsheet and here there was sand underfoot . . . aah, the old Mahia campground.
About to step back Ham glanced up and noticed small photos stuck to the canvas roof. There was a man he didn't recognize, Kevin, Mary and the twins, Kutch, Steph, Marcus, Mitch; Jean and Jared together and another of Hilary. All the faces were blurry but distinguishable. One photo stood out, of Marin, Leah, Regan and he, the beautiful man. They were laughing, happier times. Ham hesitated there considering what to do next, and then carefully he removed the photos, all of them except that one, and dissolved them in his hands. She won't be back here. Stroking the remaining picture he sharpened the images, taking particular care to enhance Regan's look, almost crying as he did so.
Leaving it there, something for some future artifact hunter to ponder over, he stepped out through the opening and surveyed the surrounding area. Sure enough the signs were there; the faint glow of footprints stretching away in the direction of the beach, like breadcrumbs for him to follow.
Making his way up over the tacky dunes he stood at a crest and scanned the long Blue Bay beach. No waves, only a gently rolling murk, oily in look and disappearing to a near horizon, as if the end of the world were just . . . there. Horrible shapes hung above the water, sharp angled blocks, hovering as if ready to crash and crush, not falling, but ever threatening. He shuddered, what kind of mind . . .
Ham banished the thought and scanned the beach as far as he could see . . . but not far enough. Sliding down the dune and searching the foreshore as he descended he picked up the faint residues of footprint glow and began the long walk toward Mahia township, the beach curving away from him into the distance, the sea to his right.
And then he saw her in the distance. A figure squatting . . . no, sitting on the beach, legs curled under, appearing to pick something from one foot.
Her back was to him and she seemed totally engrossed as he approached. As he walked he gestured with waves of his hand, a god dissolving the hanging blocks behind him, folding the beach in like a cloth and draining the sea.
Her hair hung matted and tangled, and he could hear muttering, cursing as she plucked at the injured foot, thorns peppering the sole.
Ham squatted beside her, unnoticed. It was as if he was something so unexpected and so out of place that her mind wouldn't let her recognize him.
"Do you need a hand?" he asked softly, taking the foot gently, and picking out a prickle before flicking it away.
Looking up with no expression, a face drained of strength and emotion, she licked parched lips, and made eye contact with a flicker of recognition.
"You came for me . . ." she said suddenly.
"I'm so sorry it took so long." He replied.
"You came for me . . ."
"Yes, I came for you, from the ends of the galaxy." He tried to smile.
"You came for me . . ." she said a third time, and then she looked down at her wrinkled hands.
"I didn't hold up so well." She said, looking back into his eyes.
"You held up Regan, I'm so glad you held up."
Kneeling now, he wrapped his arms around her, and to his relief she turned, molding herself to him, eyes closed, nose pressed to his neck, breathing in as if searching for the impossible comforting scent of him.
One by one, the shapes above them disappeared as they sat there and supported each other while the beach dissolved away, soon leaving only the two figures on a small patch of white sand.
"How's my boy Ham, how is Jared?"
He hesitated before answering. "I'm so sorry Regan, I really don't know, I've been searching for so long; it's been almost six years."
"Six years . . ." She said the words slowly, shaking her head, in shock and disbelief.
"Oh Ham, what's happened to my boy?" She asked again. "What's going to happen to him?"
He leaned back to look at her, holding her at arm's length, and wondering . . .
"There's only one way to find out." he replied.
She seemed to grit her teeth at that, and pressed down to the sand with both arms as if gathering strength and then pushed herself upwards. Standing quickly, he helped her upright and she stood there, the most bedraggled waif with an expectant look that almost broke his heart.
"I'm not taking you back looking like that." He said, smiling.
And she broke into a laugh . . .
And he knew . . .
And they disappeared . . .
* * * * *
Other books by this author
Regan's Reach
Orbital Envy
Confluence Point
Avarice will be next in the series, underway at the moment and hopefully coming soon. In my dreams that will be followed by 'Enforcer, the Nature of Evil' as the ideas for it are already flowing. Each book is a complete story in itself and I won't leave you hanging; I hate that myself. Having said that, to really enjoy the books I do recommend reading them in order. Have fun on the journey and may you find your own Ham.
Connect with Mark Brewer
Friend me on Facebook: http://[email protected]
Email: [email protected]
Table of Contents
Acknowledgements
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Epilogue
Other books
Connect with
wer, Confluence Point
Confluence Point Page 36
