"What?" said the voice in her head. "Come on, it's not as if I'm the only one that glows in the dark! If she knows what she is, then she knows what I am, and if she doesn't, she needs to."
"What do you mean by that?" she asked the dog.
"Ah, Miss Carlton," said Gus softly. "If you make a habit to look at me when you ask questions, and not at Tash, then you will look a little more - ah - sane."
"All right," she switched her gaze to Gus. "What did he mean? Glow in the dark? Know what I am? What does that mean? What do you think I am?"
Gus sighed. "If I try to answer all your questions, all at once, then I think you will have severe difficulties accepting what I say."
Peri scowled at him. "Why don't you try me?" she challenged him.
"Let us take it slowly. Your original question was, what is Tash. You have already concluded that he is not an ordinary dog. And this is so, he is not a dog, he merely looks like one. In fact -" Gus paused, as if unsure how to continue. After a moment of thought, he continued. "Tash is not from this Earth at all."
Peri nodded. "Go on. Where is he from?"
"Forgive me if this begins to sound like a very dull lecture on theoretical physics," he said, apologetically. "Humanity has been trying to understand the universe for millennia. What it is made of, where it came from and how it works. Einstein made great strides, but was never able to come up with a model of the universe that was wholly consistent and satisfactory. Late 20th and early 21st century thinking has led to a widespread view among physicists that the physical universe manifests in many dimensions."
"String theory?" said Peri, tentatively. "I have read about string theory predicting eleven dimensions, but I confess I have no idea what it all means."
Gus smiled. "Peri, it is possible that you know more about all of this than I do. But let me stumble onwards a little further.
"Physicists since Einstein describe the familiar four dimensions - height, length, width and time - as 'space-time', a term that I am sure you are familiar with. But there are still some problems with the classical physics of space-time, a few things that just are not understood, and where the theories, the mathematics - well, they just get it wrong.
"The attempts of physicists to find a way to unify the theories of how the universe works on both a very small and very large scale led to a number of variations of so-called string theory, and consideration of these variant theories has led to the hypothesis that there are many dimensions, beyond the familiar four of space-time. For example, it seems to be popular among physicists to hypothesise eleven dimensions - out familiar four, plus seven others. So where are these other dimensions? How do we interact with them? One explanation is that they are extremely small, and tightly compacted, so they cannot be perceived using today's technology. There are other possible explanations. We must accept, therefore, that we are capable of directly perceiving, and directly interacting with, space-time and the other dimensions cannot be reached."
"I have read about some of this," said Peri. "But I found it meaningless. I just could not visualise nor understand it. Cutting to the chase, though, I think you're saying that Tash is from some other set of dimensions, not ours. Now, I am willing to accept that he comes from some place that we might as well call a magic kingdom, and it doesn't matter where he's from, what matters is that he's here, now. After all, sufficient advanced technology -"
"Is indistinguishable from magic!" Gus roared with laughter. "You know, I gave Arthur that line, maybe twenty - no - more like forty years ago!"
"You knew Arthur C Clark?"
"We had a few drinks together once," said Gus. "Anyway, I didn't think it up, I paraphrased what someone else once said to me about cataphracts and cannons."
"So," Peri said thoughtfully. "Tash comes from a magic kingdom that exists in a different set of dimensions from ours. He must have crossed over - somehow - from his version of space-time to ours. If he could do it..."
"Other entities could also do it," said Gus. "And they have. Like the thing on the island."
"'The thing'?" Peri echoed. "'Thing', singular? There must have been dozens of those snake creatures."
Gus and Tash exchanged looks. "There's only one trans-dimensional entity over there," said Tash's voice in her head. "Well, two if you count me."
Gus added, "The snake-like things were extruded from the entity and are remotely controlled by it."
"Like, like … drones?" she asked. "They don't seem very practical to me."
Gus shrugged. "Probably it used a form optimised to get out onto the island. Long and thin. That would support the hypothesis of Amanda's dragon having been buried, but now having found a way out that is small."
"The north cliff," said Peri. "The cliff face broke away nearly three weeks ago. That may have exposed an opening into a cave. That's where Chen died - he must have been checking out the cliff face."
Peri rubbed her eyes, realising just how tired she was. "Let's stick with Tash for the moment," she said. "How did he get into our space-time? And how did he come to be your companion?"
"He was able to manifest here, in our space-time, with great difficulty and by the expenditure of a huge amount of energy. I don't know how exactly. He tried to tell me once but our language has no words for the concepts involved."
"Why is he your dog now?"
"I'm not his dog," Tash broke in. "I'm his prisoner."
"His upkeep was entrusted to me, a long time ago," said Gus, with a smile at the dog. "Let us leave it at that for now."
"And why does he glow?" asked Peri. "No, wait, why do I glow? Is it the same reason?"
"Ah, I am sorry, but you are risking another lecture on physics," said Gus. "Everything in the universe is made of 'stuff'." His fingers actually traced the quotes in the air. "Here in our space-time, we have a reasonable grasp of the stuff of the universe, good enough for almost all practical purposes. You know - things are made from molecules, which are made from atoms, which are made from sub-atomic particles like electrons, which in turn are made from sub-sub-atomic stuff that we label 'quarks', and the like.
"Naturally, for anything to exist in other space-times, it too is made up of 'stuff'. Think of this as an exotic version of 'stuff', capable of existing in those exotic space-times. Stuff can cross over, between space-times, but there is a process - something akin to a particle interaction - involved. The faint glow that is sometimes visible to those capable of seeing it is caused by a residue of radiation from that process. You see a glow from Tash, and Tash can see a glow from you, because both of you contain both normal and exotic matter, and both of you are capable of seeing the exotic radiation."
"You can't see it?" she asked.
"It would have to be very energetic before I could see it. Tash is sensitive. He saw you the moment you walked into the room this morning. My exotic capabilities are limited. Standard humans cannot see it all."
"Then ..." Peri's voice trailed off as she considered what Gus was saying. The white haired old man was watching her, expectantly, and she realised he was waiting for her to work it out. Which she just had.
"You are telling me that I'm not - what did you just call it - a 'standard human'?"
Gus replied by way of a shrug.
"That's ridiculous," Peri snapped.
"Is it?" Gus replied. "How did you know there was something in the boat before Steve did? And what about saving Troy? Have you had any other strange visions? Any other premonitions of danger?"
Shanghai, Peri thought. The old woman, talking nonsense about a blue goddess. But she stayed silent, because another thought struck her. Li knew. Somehow, she knew. And drew me into this weirdness because of it.
Her train of thought was cut short by the sound of a helicopter. She looked longingly at the bed, but rest would have to wait.
"Come on," she said. "We have work to do."
***
Out in the village, the first Dauphin helicopter had disgorged some policemen in dark blue, armed with MP7 mach
ine guns and Sig automatic pistols. While two of them trotted over to the police station where a bewildered constable was watching, the others set about blocking the road down to the ferry. A handful of men in black battledress had also arrived, and they set about unloading cases and crates, to set up a command post in front of the police station.
As soon as the first Dauphin took off again, four others touched down briefly, one by one, and disembarked more black-clad troops. The last to leave circled out to sea to overfly the island.
Peri arrived in the middle of all this activity, with Gus and Tash in tow. She saw that Steve and Troy had their heads in the tailgate of a black Range Rover, and were outfitting themselves with body armour and assault rifles.
"I thought Special Forces used MP5s," she said.
"We used to," said Steve, "But they're a bit elderly, and we've been switching over to these." He showed her his rifle.
"Mm. Looks American," she said.
"Canadian, but based on a Colt design. It's a C8 carbine, and it's very good indeed."
"When we go back over, do I get one?"
Steve looked horrified. "First, you're not going over there again, and second, hell no! If gave a civilian a full automatic assault rifle, I'd be drummed out of the Navy!"
She shrugged. "Fair enough. I'll just swap this dinky little thing …" She placed the Sig P230 she had been carrying in the back of the car, and pointed to a bigger pistol nestling in a foam inset in a metal case. "… for one of them. That okay?"
"A P226? Not on your life! I'm telling you, you're staying here until the island has been cleared!"
"Not your call, Steve." She picked up a P226 and a spare magazine.
"We still need to talk," he snapped.
She huffed. "About?"
"Who are you, really? And don't give me the same crap cover story all over again."
She wasn't sure what to say. So she played for time. "What's crap about my story, then?"
"How did you know - twice now - that something nasty was just about to happen? Also, you react ultra-fast and for someone who said she'd never handled a gun before, you seem to be remarkably good."
"You won't believe me," she said.
"Try me," he answered.
"OK, pay close attention, because I'm only going to say this once," she whispered, and looked all round as if to make sure nobody was close enough to overhear. She leaned closer, and whispered, "Every word I said was true. As for explaining what happened out there? I. Have. No. Fucking. Clue."
She stepped back.
"You were right. I won't believe you."
Peri shrugged and walked away.
She distinctly heard, "Damn that bloody woman!" as she made for the command post. She fished out her Sectera phone and called Tommy in London as she walked.
"Hi, Peri," came Tommy's greeting down the line.
"Hey Mr T," She replied. "What news on the medics?"
"They should be with you in thirty minutes max," he assured her. "Anythin' else croppin' up?"
"I have a daft question for you."
"Try me."
"Who's actually in charge of all this?"
"Ah." He said nothing for a while. Then he asked, "Why? Are you plannin' to do somethin' stupid?"
"You know me too well. I think the macho military are going to try to protect this weak and feeble woman. I don't need protecting. So when they go all old-fashioned chivalry on me, I aim to get all Empowered Woman on their arses."
"Hence your question. What you're really askin' me is, 'Can I be in charge?' Am I right?"
"Like I said, you know me too well," she laughed. "So what's the answer?"
"Good ol' British compromise," he said. "I'm the event manager and I coordinate, and I facilitate but I don't direct. The military response is led by the military operational commander. I'm guessin' you're walkin' in his direction right now, am I right? The medical response is led by the medical leader. You can work out the rest, I'm sure."
"So nobody is in charge? No - wait a sec - the penny's just dropping. Everybody is in charge. I'm the senior intelligence officer, so I call the shots on intelligence matters, right?"
"Word to the wise, Peri. Never hesitate to play the 'need to know' card. I've gotten away with stuff for ages that way."
"Good advice, Mr T."
"Only if you're still alive at the end of the day, Peri. Otherwise, this chat never happened and you got no advice from me."
"Understood. Cheers, mate."
Amanda stepped in front of her as she put away her phone. "I see you've got reinforcements," she said. "Is the army in charge now?"
Peri frowned at her. "Why?" she asked.
"I need to go back over there, so I need to know who I need to sleep with to get what I want."
Peri laughed. "Amanda, you've just seen what's going on over there, and I seem to recall you were none too happy. But now you need to go back?"
"You think this is all tied up with Maxwell's 'dragon', don't you?"
"Maybe..." Peri was hesitant about where Amanda was taking this conversation.
"Come on, of course you do. It's obvious. And if that's true - hell, even if it isn't - my friend's in trouble, and, well, he's my friend. That's point number one. Number two is, if this is tied up with Maxwell's work, then you would benefit from having a trained historian and archaeologist who's fluent in first century history, culture and languages. Number three is - well, I'll think of numbers three and higher later, just know that I'm coming over there with you."
Peri grinned at her. "There's more to you than meets eye, isn't there? Anyway, who says they'll let me go back over there?"
Amanda grinned back. "I'd love to see them try to stop you!"
"Okay, so to answer your question, if you want to go over there, you better forget any thoughts of sleeping with a dashing young hunky officer to buy your passage, and resign yourself to my company. I'll get us over there."
Amanda leaned in and gave Peri a quick peck on the cheek. "Will that do?" she asked with a grin.
"Is that it?" asked Peri with a mock expression of horror. "Come on, babe, you're just not trying!" She laughed. "Get yourself organised, I'll see you in a minute."
Peri resumed her walk towards the operations tent, fishing out her phone again.
"Hey, Tommy, it's me again. Can you check out whether we know anything against surname Booker-Smart, with or without a hyphen, first name Amanda? And while you're at it, do we know anything about these people: Coupar, Maxwell; Bandra, Victoria; Baxter, Owain; Feinman, Gilda."
"Hi, Peri, I'll get the boys and girls here on it," came Tommy's voice in her ear/
"Best report by exception."
"Okay, if don't hear from me, you can assume no red flags."
"You're the man, Mr T."
"I pity the fool what keeps callin' me Mr T," said Tommy. "Cheers."
Peri hung up the call as she strode into the operations tent.
Four men in black battledress were standing round a map of the island, evidently discussing their plans. One of them turned to face her, and held out a hand with a broad smile. "You must be Miss Carlton," he said. "I'm in charge of this rabble. Call me Mike."
"Hello Mike," said Peri. "So you're the military operational lead." He noticed the emphasis and his smile faded slightly. "Call me Peri," she went on. "Just to be confusing, I'm wearing multiple hats today, as they say. I'm the intelligence operational lead, and as well as that, I'm representing the UN Security Council for the investigation and its ramifications. I'm also… ah, no, I'll stop there, because I don't believe you're cleared for the rest. Anyway, I'll be taking my team over with yours."
"Your team?" asked Mike. "No, I don't want any civilians loose on the island until it's been declared safe. I'll let you know when that is."
"So we need to coordinate before we set off," she continued, as if he had not spoken. "The agreed strategy is to sweep and evacuate civilians - that's your responsibility, and I wouldn't dream of interfering with your
plans for it. Meanwhile we need intelligence on the location and the nature of the alien entity, and ..."
"No, I think you've misunderstood our roles..."
"… assess whether and how we can eradicate it, or contain it ..."
"… there is no 'agreed strategy' to deal with this, that's the first thing I need to establish..."
"… as the Romans were forced to do."
"… and … Wait a moment! Did you say 'Romans'? What are you talking about!"
"That's right, they'll have assumed it's strictly need to know and won't have told you all the facts," said Peri as Mike's face coloured. She continued talking over him. "So, my team with our SBS support will advance…."
"Your SBS support?" She thought Mike was going to have a heart attack.
"Of course they're my SBS support," Peri said, with an innocent smile. She spotted Steve listening at the entrance to the tent. "Don't tell me nobody told you that much? As I was saying, we move up to the dig site..."
"What dig site?"
"Mm. Need to know, Mike, sorry. All you need to know is that we're going here." She stabbed a finger at the centre of the island. She turned to Steve, and said, "Round up Gus and Amanda, would you please?" She turned back to Mike and flashed a smile. "We'll be waiting on the ferry."
Steve sent Troy to round up the others, and fell in step with Peri as they walked to the ferry.
"Why so keen to go back over?" he asked. "Oh - nice fast talking, by the way. I don't suppose that Mike fella has worked out what's going on yet."
"My mouth is registered as a deadly weapon," she replied with a suggestive waggle of her eyebrows. "I need to go back over because I can't trust someone who is organising an operation without taking the trouble of talking to the only people with the experience of being over there, and who also happen to be the people with the skills to deal with it."
"You're annoyed because he didn't invite you to his planning session."
"Did he invite you? No? I rest my case, milord."
"What skills, by the way? Do you think the beasties will succumb to your deadly conversation skills?"
"No," she said. "But how many of those guys speak Latin? How familiar are they with Roman military practice? Have any of them ever fought a trans-dimensional alien entity? Do they have a trans-dimensional consultant disguised as a dog? Can they find their own arses in the dark?"
Island of Fog and Death: A sci-fi horror adventure Page 17
