by S. T. Boston
“Grab what you need,” cut in Oriyanna getting to her feet, “Where is Taulass?”
“In bed, sleeping.” Answered Bliegh. “He was in front of that screen for ten hours straight earlier, the guy's beat.”
“Wake him, we can brief him on the move, we don't” - before she could finish telling Bliegh that there was no time to brief Taulass, a red dot appeared on his forehead. Glancing quickly at Rhesbon she saw an identical dot was now decorating his head, almost like a laser-light blister. She didn't need a mirror to know she also had her very own one. “Get down,” she screamed, hitting the deck. As she fell the sound of glass being penetrated by three high velocity rounds sounded in the room. It was almost a soft, Pizzinkk, pizzinkk, pizzinkk. The round that had been intended for her slammed into an antique oil painting of a French clipper caught in a storm that hung over the ornate fireplace. Twisting as she fell she saw with horror that the other two rounds had found their intended targets. Both Bliegh and Rhesbon were slumped on the cream colour carpet, bright red stains spreading out from the backs of their heads. Two more names to be added to the plaque of remembrance in the Arkkadian Council Chambers.
Staying low, she clawed her way to the door as another round slammed into one of the walls, which she did not see, there was no time to look. She had to reach Taulass, there was a chance he was still alive, likely asleep and unaware. Then the automatic gunfire began, as if those in charge of the assault wanted to make sure the only thing coming out of the house were dead bodies. Burring her face into the thick cream pile carpet, teasingly close to the door to the entrance hall, Oriyanna covered her ears with her hands and clenched her teeth, waiting to feel the searing pain as the melee of slugs found her body. Through her covered ears she heard glass smashing, as if every window in the building were being simultaneously broken. The air zinged with ricocheting bullets, but still no pain. Filled with adrenalin she lifted her face, the acrid smell of gunpowder clogged the atmosphere. Staying lower to the floor than a snake's belly she rolled through the door into the hall. This was an old house, the walls at its heart were solid brick, not plaster like some of the others which had been added years after it had been built. Downstairs the rapid gunfire continued, unabated. Reaching the landing she stayed low, as the shooters began to turn their attentions to the first floor windows. The odd round found its way through the door frame, or a post renovation plasterboard wall. One came frighteningly close to her ear, its air displacement feeling like a light hand on her blonde hair as it sped past. She could see Taulass' room, just a few feet away.
“T,” she screamed, opting to use the shortened version of his name that she'd come up with. It was not a thing they done on Arkkadia, more an Earth trait, but one she liked and used, much to his annoyance. The gunfire stopped as abruptly as it'd begun, what remained was an eerie silence, it almost seemed unnatural. Not wanting to risk being heard, Oriyanna scrambled to the door, reaching up she opened it and slid in. The room was dark, but curfew was still a little time away and there was a street light just outside the window. It gave enough of a dim glow for her to see his body in the blood soaked sheets. Panicked she stripped them back, the automatic fire had found him, the left side of his torso was a mess, quickly she felt for a head shot but with her hands drenched in his blood, and in the poor defused light she couldn't tell if he'd taken a hit or not. The sound of the front door being broken down kick started her into action. Replacing the covers she bolted from the room and hurried to the back of the house, hating herself for not being able to check him properly. Once in her room she crouched below the sill and with a cautionary hand, slid the sash open. Not wanting to find the sights of a sniper she took a quick look, surveying the back garden. It looked clear, but then again, snipers didn't have a habit of advertising their positions.
“Two dead down here!” She heard a male voice call, it was an Earth accent meaning they were Earth-Breed.
“And the girl!” Came a voice that didn't carry a local dialect, it sounded harsh, maybe Eastern European.
“No sign yet, sir,” came the now not so confident reply, the accomplice's accent was definitely American. “I had her in my sights, I'm not sure what happened.”
“Find her!” The other voice snapped. That was all Oriyanna needed to hear, taking her chances she slid the sash window open to its maximum, climbed out onto the ledge and stopped. Cursing herself for not thinking of it sooner, she quickly climbed back into her room and rushed to the dresser. Opening the top drawer she removed the Glock Semiautomatic that was hidden there. The footsteps were literally at her door as she climbed back out onto the ledge and pushed herself away from the wall. There was the briefest feeling of falling before her feet hit the damp grass, sending a current of pain through her ankles. Ignoring the pain she sprinted across the lawn, cursing herself for not being able to close the window, as her escape route would now be obvious, still, what was it that she'd heard Adam say once? Beggars can't be choosers. With the peculiar Earth idiom ringing in her mind she reached the neighbor's wall and swiftly vaulted it, landing in their dishevelled looking flowerbed. Hurrying to the side gate, which to her relief was open, she broke out onto one of the back roads. The night was cold and immediately she regretted not grabbing a warmer jumper when she'd retrieved the gun. The thin black long sleeved tee, would have to do, what mattered was the gun that she'd taken from her drawer. That might save her, a little cold she could put up with.
Heading away from the general direction of the house, she finally found the main road. If they'd located their hideout so easily, it wasn't a far stretch to believe they knew the whereabouts of Sam, Lucie and Adam. The two boys were well out of her reach, but Lucie would be at work in her bar, there was no way to warn the others but she could reach Adam's sister and in turn Lucie might have a phone to call Adam, if it wasn't already too late. Having made the short trip on a number of occasions to covertly check on them and deliver kill packages to Sam, she knew where to go, Lucie's bar was no more than five miles away, only a few minutes' drive on quiet roads. The VW Golf hire car was waiting in a side street a minute's jog from the house. It was locked and the main key was back in the kitchen, but there was a spare inside for emergencies. Oriyanna rammed her elbow through the window, the breaking glass seemed far too loud in the quiet street, not too far away she could hear sirens, yet another reason to clear the area. Climbing into the driver's seat she fetched the spare keys from under the passenger side mat. Gunning the engine she rammed the car into drive and hit the accelerator, leaving the nightmare behind her, but knowing in her heart that she was likely heading into another.
* * *
Behind the wheel of the Juke, speeding away from London and on to the next nightmare, Oriyanna tried in vain to push the site of her fallen colleagues to the back of her mind. They ran through her head in order, always ending with Taulass, his body mangled from automatic gunfire. Her long years had helped her grow strong, almost detached from certain situations, but here, as good as alone in the car as it sped down a dark road with only her thoughts for company, a single tear broke free from her right eye and streaked down her cheek.
Chapter 12
Benjamin Hawker had once worked for DARPA, The Defence Advanced Research Projects Agency. A US program for researching into projects that aided in the technological advancement of the country's military. Now, however, he found himself sat at the main console on the bridge of a spacecraft named Arkus 2, so named after the sun that feeds its warmth and light to Arkkadia. He rubbed his hazel eyes and returned his focus to the holographical screen in front of him. The plug-in that he'd helped develop over the last two months was working and currently worming its way through a back door in to Kwangmyŏngsŏng, the North Korean nuclear launch and defence system, named after the failed satellite that the country had tried to launch back in 2012. The satellite's launch had been a smoke screen for the secretive nation to test its first long range nuclear weapon, a ploy that had not been lost on the United States and other NAT
O countries. In the years following that, and on the run up to the events which had seen his creators and masters fail in their attempts to wipe mankind off the Earth, the country had continued to develop its program, albeit behind closed doors and hidden from the suspicious eyes and prying satellites of the western world. Then in the year before President John Remy had met his demise in a Malaysian hotel room, the secretive country had carried out another supposed test launch, only this time there was no smoke and mirrors act. Kwangmyŏngsŏng 4 had carried with it a nuclear defence satellite, a long range detection machine capable of spotting any threat from the point of launch and retaliating with the states own small, yet lethal, stockpile. Much to the disgust of the western world and despite a number of urgent meetings held by the world's various superpowers, the country had refused to halt its program, arguing that it had as much of a right to the deadly power as any other nation. Although on paper, and as far as any other person was concerned, Benjamin Hawker was a patriotic American, doing his bit for the country he loved, he agreed and relished watching the pathetic squabbling he saw between those he hated and ultimately hoped to see destroyed. He held no allegiance to any country, only his own kind.
For the past two and a half years, Kwangmyŏngsŏng 4 had been dormant, brooding in its perpetual orbit around the planet, waiting patiently in its own little part of space, amongst all the other various bits of junk that had been fired into orbit over the years. Now as its parent program was readied for action once again, Ben found himself watching its programmers every step, completely unknown to them. As well as Kwangmyŏngsŏng, he also had his work of programming art, Enola, monitoring the US defence and launch systems, the Russian equivalent and that of the United Kingdom as well as China and the other two NPT ( Non-Proliferation of Nuclear Weapons Treaty), nations. North Korea wasn't party to this group, but they had the tools which he needed to use. Once they all came online he'd have at his fingertips more power than any Earth-Human had ever known. The thought sent a chill of excitement through his body. At his command he could set every nuclear bird free from its nest and heading for any target of his choice.
Of course this was not ideal, the ideal scenario would have seen The Reaper do its job and kill over ninety nine point nine percent of the population, leaving Earth virtually wiped clean of Earth-Humans, like one massive swipe of a giant board eraser. Unfortunately, even the best laid plans sometimes failed, as had The Reaper. But this was no longer about preserving the Earth, this was now about wiping out a genetic mistake, one that should never have existed.
For two years he'd been forced to live in the broken world that had been left, living with Earth-Humans, and in the early days, often going hungry or fighting for food. Thankfully, his masters and creators had not forgotten him. Six months ago, just when he thought all hope was lost and that they had surely been destroyed and wiped from Sheol, he'd been contacted by Asag, one of the few Elders to have escaped the war torn planet. From him he'd learned that Asmodeous was alive. And not only alive but on Earth. For the following two nights he'd been unable to sleep, thoughts and excitement at what this might mean for him had run through his head, not so much ran but almost stampeded. Patiently he'd waited for his next instruction, laying low and only too aware that a number of his kind had been found and killed, somehow discovered by those who'd been responsible for the virus's failure. Then finally he'd received instructions and a ticket buying him passage to Ecuador, from there he'd travelled by land for two days, eventually meeting with Asag and his brother, Namtar in Lima, Peru. From there he'd been taken into the Peruvian desert where he'd seen, well nothing to begin with. Then like a shimmering mirage Arkus 2 had appeared before him, temporarily de-cloaked in all her glory.
During his conditioning and education in Allentown he'd seen pictures and images of the craft his superiors had at their disposal, but nothing could have prepared him for the real thing. The ship was colossal, almost a mile long and half as wide. The craft dwarfed him like a New York skyscraper, its shiny onyx-like black hull glinting in the sunlight, making it almost impossible to look at. The craft had the appearance of massive triangle, only chopped off at the tip and formed a little like a strange bullet. The top of the behemoth was gently rounded, just enough to stop it from looking like a flat wedge, and the front, which was raised clear of the ground, hung out over the sweltering desert like a canopy. At the rear Ben could see no propulsion system, the flawless surface ran toward the aft where it ended in a wall of shimmering black which loomed some six hundred feet into the hot, unforgiving desert sky. In stunned wonder he'd walked the length of the craft, sometimes running his hand along the smooth, metallic surface, almost wishing he could connect with the spacecraft and see in his minds-eye where she'd been in her long, long life. Stood under where he assumed the bridge would be the sun's relentless heat was blocked out, leaving him in a darken shade. Craning his neck, Ben had looked toward the bridge area, suspended some three or four hundred feet above his head. Much to his frustration he'd developed a very human fear of heights and momentarily his head span as he imagined sliding down the topside of the bridge, gaining speed and heading toward the edge whilst his hands and feet desperately searched for purchase on the onyx-like surface.
For the previous six months this had been his home. Ben had spent many hours wandering the craft's endless corridors and exploring her various rooms and quarters. Arkus 2, in her day, had been a long range exploration vessel, designed to accommodate a crew of two thousand for an indefinite time. She had her own ecosystem on board, which in her operational days was capable of growing fresh plant life for food as well as being able to sustaining a continual cycle of livestock. In essence she was her own city, a man could live out his life aboard her and never need to set foot on Earth, or any other planet. It was aboard this craft that he'd finally met his master, Asmodeous.
Ben had a thousand questions in his head that first month, but patiently he'd waited for Asmodeous, and the few Elders who'd escaped the planet, to divulge their plan, for he feared them as much as he respected them. Then one evening in June they had gathered in one of the craft's massive auditoriums, and here it was explained to them what was to be done. Not every Earth-Breed had been selected, only a finite number who were of use had been chosen. Ben, a computer and defence systems specialist had, much to his excitement, become an integral, no – vital, part of the plan. Working with him on the project was Michael Braun, an unassuming, almost geeky looking Earth-Breed of German nationality who had a particular flare for systems hacking. His thick rimmed black glasses made him look like a young Woody Allen.
During the past five months Ben had been hard at work, learning the advanced computer systems aboard Arkus 2, although advanced they had one thing in common, the language of mathematics, it was universal, and in no time he could navigate the ship's system as easily as any he had before. From there he'd developed the plug-ins that saw Arkus 2's systems become capable of working alongside Earth's. His first version had made the ship compatible with the Internet, although nothing like the animal it used to be the web was still a useful tool to have and ultimately the key to getting into the defence systems that he needed to breach. Alongside this, he and Braun had been asked to look at just how his Earth-Breed brethren were being traced and killed.
Soon, whilst navigating the web and searching under the names of Adam Fisher and Samuel Becker they had found Watchers, the book penned by Adam Fisher. It detailed just how the Earth-Humans who had helped Oriyanna aided her in thwarting the virus. A book that Asmodeous and the other Elders had studied with interest. The book took them no further to tracking them down other than leading them to believe that the pair lived in the UK, somewhere in London. Fisher had been careful so as not to reveal too much about their residential location, obviously aware that there might be people looking for them. He was right, it took more digging to get their details, but as the net became more and more functional, more and more personal information once again became available. To a s
ystems expert such as Hawker it had been a synch to eventually locate and get them watched, whilst they waited for the final part of the plan to fall into place. It was during this time that they discovered it was Sam Becker targeting the Earth-Breeds who were still in hiding. Asmodeous had ordered that neither Fisher nor Becker be touched, he suspected a bigger player was behind how the targets were being identified and he left it to play out, in the hope that they could snare the bigger fish at the same time.
Many weeks went by with his team having no luck in figuring out just how the one called Samuel Becker was selecting his targets, but then they'd had a breakthrough. A program that he'd developed that searched for people poking around in the old business files of Integra Investments had found a search program running that reported every payment being made from the company's still active accounts, as well as old ones made before the virus. Although the originator's IP address was being bounced around the web like a rubber ball, the systems on Arkus 2 had easily found and traced the culprit, her advanced computer systems making it easy work for him to get through even the toughest of firewalls, a benefit that would also come in handy for Enola. Then with technical stealth he'd poked around the host computer and planted his own little bug, one that reported everything back to him and automatically copied all the system's files to his, including every update and saved file. And so, from a distance they had watched, waited and monitored their folly, completely unseen and hidden. The bug had found the files about Mathis Laurett and his pending appointment with Sam Becker. It gave them a time, date and location when Samuel Becker would be alone, vulnerable and easy to take, it had cemented the date on which they'd take them all. Becker, Adam Fisher and his sister, Lucie, would all be snatched at the same time, much the same as they'd killed the four Watchers at the World Summit.
