2041 Sanctuary (Let There Be Light)

by Robert Storey

  Slowing against mounting air resistance, its rotation ending, the remnant of the United States Space Station, Archimedes, burnt up in Earth’s atmosphere, its outer edges flaring white hot and folding back on themselves as it fell from the sky – a manmade shooting star. Alongside this forlorn object, spread across hundreds of miles, other sections of trillion dollar spacecraft cut fiery orange swathes through the night skies. Far below on the Earth’s surface no one was witness to this metallic meteor shower and the dire prophetic warning of humanity’s ruination it represented, the debris from space slicing into and through the all pervasive dust cloud which masked its passage.

  Moments later, emerging from the unseen, the brilliant arrows of light plunged into the Pacific Ocean, their intense auroral heat quenched by the cold, dark waters that bubbled and boiled around them. Drifting down, the ruddy glow from the scorched, twisted metal panel grew dim. Spun round in vast currents, the final journey of the devastated orbital vehicle eventually ended as it came to rest in what would be an eternal watery grave set deep on the ocean floor; the sound of its impact a dull thud that resounded against the hard bedrock beneath. Following these shockwaves across hundreds of miles of the planet’s surface, descending through layers of sediment laid down eons past, the density of compacted substrate hardened and then vanished. A huge void, located far underground and stretching for miles in all directions, dominated the continental crust under what were the deserts and mountains of present day Mexico.

  This far reaching expanse, unlike everything surrounding it, was not born from nature’s timeless geological progression; in fact, it was an engineering marvel of ancient origins created long before the earliest of our civilisations, and even before the evolution of modern man. Hewn from the Earth by a means unknown, the builders of this underworld that functioned independently from the surface above were also lost to time’s unrelenting and uncompromising embrace. Where for millennia humanity believed itself set apart from the rest of the animal kingdom, sitting atop a pedestal fashioned by its own arrogance, a long extinct species with a similar lineage flourished for a million years, creating a legacy that put paid to our notion of unique superiority. The existence of this race, reclaimed from the past’s vice-like grip and from those that sought to keep it forever hidden, had now been allocated its scientific name by the select few learned in its ways, taking its rightful place amongst its closest brethren and slotted into the Hominid evolutionary timeline. What was the name of this creature that so closely resembled our own? Where we are Homo sapiens, they are Homo giganthropsis. And as the name suggests they were a beast whose size surpassed our own and yet they were also one that had become extinct, like all our other closest relatives. Why the demise of our larger cousin came to pass, no one knew, but what was for certain was that their advancement in science far exceeded our own.

  Within this decaying goliath of a subterranean world, long silent cities of immense proportions littered pitch-black chambers so vast they had their own climates; and yet amongst these near endless interconnecting cave-like systems, ensconced near its heart, was a smaller, yet no less grand construction. A construction built not by Homo giganthropsis, or the Anakim as they were known, but by Homo sapiens. Home to twenty million souls and built in preparation for the surface apocalypse to come, this United States Subterranean Base, or USSB, was one of forty-five such bases commissioned by the planet’s leading nations and located around the world. This base, however, was by the far the largest of these monumental projects, and it was still dwarfed by the abandoned Anakim world that surrounded it, a world from which the USSB took its name and one that would stay in the annals of time as the greatest discovery in human history, the greatest civilisation ever to have graced the planet, a place that knew no equal, a place to those that knew of it called … Sanctuary.

  Inside this underground immensity, under a twenty mile wide dome capable of producing its own sunlight and weather systems, the human city sprawled. The crown jewel in the U.S. Subterranean Programme, USSB Sanctuary consisted of many levels, burrowing down into the chambers built by the Anakim and producing a three dimensional metropolis on a scale unlike anything seen before. At the centre, directly beneath the great dome itself and on the USSB’s top level, an ancient tower cut a slender figure through simulated skies. Up and up this Anakim monolith rose, passing through the dome itself and into the dark of the larger chamber of Sanctuary Proper, beyond.

  On the outside of this great spire, which had been moulded by the prehistoric vision of Anakim architects, an external lift system, added by human hands, hummed to life as it began its upward journey to the summit. Inside this cylindrical glass elevator stood a single passenger and, as if mirroring the structure he ascended, the man’s elegant frame was tall and lean. His self-assured stance, concealed in an upright posture, gave way to a stern, unfathomable expression formed by angular features and flat, cold, gimlet-like eyes that gazed out with a fierce intelligence. Expensive handmade Italian shoes supported his ensemble, their black leather uppers painstakingly stitched together by a master craftsman and setting off a crisp dark grey tailored suit that accentuated his narrow hips and shoulders to form a more masculine appearance. Curiously, despite the current lack of bright light, he wore a pair of sunshades attached to his spectacles which gave him a sinister, yet apt, air of power and influence.

  U.S. and GMRC Director of Intelligence Malcolm Joiner surveyed the scene before him, his gloved hands held clasped at the small of his back. He was not a man prone to acknowledging the positives in anything, but even he had to admit the vista spread out below him as he ascended the three mile high edifice was spectacular.

  USSB Sanctuary, the subterranean base run by the United States government in conjunction with the Global Meteor Response Council, lay shrouded in darkness. The artificial sunlight from the immense dome had grown dim, simulating night, and in response the underground city, containing over twenty million U.S. citizens, twinkled and shimmered like a star-encrusted galactic blanket. The uppermost section of the monotube rail system wove in and out of the plethora of manmade buildings and towers, which would have appeared majestic had they not been so close to the gigantic monument at the base’s heart. At two miles up the great dome glided past and then fell away below, reducing the majestic scene to a crescentic sliver.

  Outside the dome the black abyss of the unfathomably large cavern sought to assert its pervasive mass upon the spire which bisected its body like a brightly lit needle. The air in the elevator grew cool, the heat island inside the USSB left behind. Joiner shifted position to ease his back muscles and looked up as a blue glow seeped into the transparent lift he travelled in. The spire’s pinnacle approached and his ascent slowed to a stop.

  Two doors slid aside with a whisper to reveal a grand high-ceilinged hallway where four armed guards stood to attention on either side of the entrance. Joiner moved forwards and two of the men fell into step behind him in escort, the lustrous purple sheen of their composite armour glittering under the lights installed above.

  The corridor, like the building surrounding it, was aesthetically beautiful and unlike anything built by human hands. Curved green crystalline walls, wreathed with intricate engravings, led those that passed through it across an undulating floor that resembled the sweep of rolling hills. The long hallway, echoing to the footsteps of the three people travelling its length, straightened, its features fading to blandness as it continued deep into the Anakim structure until it finally emerged into an enormous multi-sided room where two large red doors glinted and gleamed on the far side.

  Cobalt radiance permeated the room’s semi-transparent walls from above and Joiner couldn’t help but look up again to view a section of the spire from the inside. If he’d been of weaker mind and easily swayed, the sight would have been truly awe-inspiring; instead, the effect made him feel small and insignificant, an experience he didn’t care for.

  He walked on, noticing out of the corner of his eye that the two men that
had accompanied him hung back before retreating into the shadows to return to their previous station. He knew very few people were allowed into this area and fewer still into the room beyond. As he reached the centre, directly beneath the spire, he stopped in the middle of a twenty foot diameter circle that had been sunken into the floor. Beneath his feet, the great seal of Sanctuary, wrought from precious metals, reflected light from its polished surface.

  An odd absence of noise made his attention turn to the elaborate metal doors which now swung inwards. A figure passed through the huge gateway and moved to intercept his position.

  ‘Malcolm Joiner,’ the woman said in greeting, her voice strong and inflection flat.

  Joiner gave a nod of his head in guarded acknowledgment. A waft of incense reached his nostrils as she walked past, her long, flowing dress fluttering behind her like a silken flag. He turned and extended his gait to match her long, measured strides, her height a few inches greater than his own.

  ‘Have you been successful?’ she said, her tone aloof and gaze averted as if his mere presence was offensive.

  ‘I will be.’

  The woman Joiner knew as Selene Dubois slowed and her head moved a fraction in his direction. ‘“Will” is not “have”.’

  ‘My efforts are ongoing. The task you – the Committee – set is … complex.’

  ‘Should we be concerned?’

  Joiner hesitated before responding, choosing his words with care. ‘The war instigated between China and its neighbours has destabilised the Asian block. Their attention is elsewhere, as you desired. GMRC personnel in the region are primed to be influenced or replaced.’

  ‘And the council’s Directorate?’

  ‘Since Professor Steiner has been removed, we have three quarters of the GMRC’s Directorate subverted to your cause.’

  ‘Your?’

  ‘Our,’ Joiner said quickly.

  ‘And yet the Subterranean Programme’s Director General still lives.’

  ‘Not for long; the professor’s luck has run its course.’

  ‘He has great influence and our actions expose us. One such as him, with the knowledge he holds …’

  ‘As I said, his time has come. If you are unhappy with my methods perhaps you should find someone else to do your bidding.’

  Selene Dubois stopped walking and turned to fix him with an icy stare, her mismatched eyes boring into his. Joiner’s own eyes darted from the green iris to the blue one as he inwardly cursed his complacency.

  ‘The power you wield at the GMRC and within the U.S. government has emboldened you, Intelligence Director,’ she said, emphasising his title. ‘You would do well to remember from whence your privileged position originates.’

  Joiner didn’t respond; he held her gaze until her brow furrowed in warning, then looked away.

  She turned her back on him and moved a few steps ahead, the heels of her shoes impacting the polished tiles underfoot, the noise acute in the silence. ‘We are aware of your efforts to find out about Project Ares,’ she said, after a pause.

  Joiner licked his lips as the unfamiliar sensation of fear tore at his mental foundation.

  She remained stock still and moved her head a fraction in his direction. ‘Did you think we would not find out?’

  ‘It’s my job to know all.’

  ‘Except when told otherwise.’

  ‘I didn’t realise I had been told.’

  ‘Director,’ she said, ‘come, let’s not play games.’

  ‘How do you expect me to do my job without all the information on which to base my decisions?’

  ‘Project Ares is not pertinent to your goals; take no further steps to finding out its purpose. Is that clear enough for you, or do I need to clarify our position further?’

  Joiner knew full well what kind of clarification she alluded to. He took a step forward. ‘That won’t be necessary.’

  ‘Good, it would displease me should our association sour.’

  The woman moved off once more in a slow, measured stroll that forced Joiner to follow.

  ‘You know why you were summoned?’ she said as he drew alongside.

  Joiner remained silent.

  A smile twisted her lips as she relished his ignorance. ‘There are certain incidents that have transpired since your last visit that we need addressed.’

  ‘Richard Goodwin?’

  ‘Steadfast’s director, his civilians and Darklight mercenaries will have long since perished in the bowels of Sanctuary Proper.’

  ‘The base’s generals failed to locate them?’

  ‘It seems their abilities and resolve are limited.’

  ‘They’re resisting the transition of power?’

  ‘It was foreseen,’ she said, ‘which is why you’re here to aid in their motivation.’

  ‘Motivation for what?’

  ‘A recent event within the military’s vaults and laboratory complex has come to our attention. An object was stolen that needs recovering.’

  ‘An object?’

  ‘An Anakim artefact.’

  Joiner’s curiosity rose. ‘What is its significance?’

  Selene Dubois stopped pacing, once more standing on Sanctuary’s impressive seal in the centre of the room. She looked at him, her clasped hands giving away the telltale signs of impatience, or is it anxiety? Joiner wondered.

  ‘It holds the key to everything we’re working towards,’ she said, unable to keep an intensity from her voice.

  ‘It’s vital, then?’

  She gave a nod. ‘The object in question is a five sided metallic pendant that enables its wearer to activate Anakim technology.’

  Joiner’s eyebrows shot up. ‘You’re sure of this?’

  ‘The Committee has marked the acquisition of this object as its top priority. No stone can be left unturned in its retrieval.’

  ‘An artefact of such value wasn’t protected?’

  ‘We were unaware of its import. Despite this, it was secured in a military vault, but the person who took it was able to breach its security.’

  ‘A professional?’

  ‘It seems not; at least, not a professional thief.’

  ‘How have they not been found?’ he said, perplexed. ‘The base is finite and everyone’s movements are traceable.’

  ‘They’re no longer inside the base.’

  Joiner’s confusion increased. ‘The base is in lockdown, how did they make it to the surface?’

  ‘They didn’t. As far as we know they are traversing Sanctuary Proper as we speak.’

  ‘Then they’re as good as dead.’

  Selene paused. ‘Not necessarily.’

  Joiner couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing and it must have shown.

  ‘There are mitigating circumstances which will become apparent,’ she told him. ‘Needless to say this individual is also of interest to us. A dossier and select video footage awaits in your office. And Director, remember, despite what you see, further enquiries into Project Ares will not be tolerated.’

  ‘What resources do I have at my disposal?’ Joiner said.

  ‘Everything. We want this artefact by any means necessary – whatever you need to achieve this goal, it’s yours.’

  Joiner nodded, the thrill at having such carte blanche tempered by the weight of responsibility he now bore. ‘You must know,’ he said, ‘there’s no guarantee, if they’re in Sanctuary Proper, of any retrieval.’

  The woman gave him an indecipherable look and then walked away to the imposing doors she’d entered by.

  Fearing he’d said the wrong thing, Joiner went to say something else, but her voice curtailed his efforts.

  ‘S.I.L.V.E.R. have been recalled from the field. They will arrive within the day.’

  ‘All of them?’

  ‘Yes,’ she said, her voice growing fainter as she moved further away. ‘They are to lead the operation on the ground, under your direction.’

  Passing back through the great archway, she paused and looked ba
ck over her shoulder. ‘Make sure to use your resources well, Malcolm Joiner,’ she said, her voice drifting through the quiet. ‘Failure is not an option.’

  Chapter Two

  The doors closed behind the tall, slender figure of Selene Dubois, leaving Joiner alone, her final words of warning ringing in his ears. Without instigation, the two purple clad soldiers reappeared at the edge of the Anakim antechamber to escort him back to the lift.

  On the long descent down the side of the Anakim tower, Joiner contemplated the work he was to carry out on behalf of the Committee. Find and return a precious Anakim artefact, along with the person who’d managed to steal it. No mean feat considering the size of Sanctuary Proper. Even with the help of S.I.L.V.E.R. and with all the manpower within USSB Sanctuary at his disposal, the chances of success were slim; the dangers and difficulties involved when traversing the endless underground chambers, tunnels and cave systems of Sanctuary Proper were legendary. Although, from what the Committee member had indicated, this thief may be more equipped to deal with these obstacles than most.

  There must be something she hasn’t told me, he reasoned, they wouldn’t give me an impossible task to complete – unless, that is, they want me to fail. The idea was a disturbing one.

  Avoiding thinking about the implications of such a possibility and eager to find out more about this intriguing turn of events, Joiner strode out of the elevator as its doors opened and made his way towards the shiny black limousine that sat parked a hundred feet away. His entourage of U.S. GMRC intelligence agents, who’d been waiting for his return, fell into step alongside. A door was opened for him and Joiner settled into the electric car’s plush interior while his underlings returned to the other SUVs in the five strong motorcade. Sitting in the back of the stretched vehicle as his driver navigated through the light traffic of USSB Sanctuary’s New Park district, Joiner’s lip curled into a sneer as he recalled his brief exchanges with the woman and the subsequent humiliation he’d been subjected to. A repressed adolescent memory flashed into his mind, elicited by the unwanted emotion. Fury seethed to the surface. How dare she threaten me. ME! The knuckles on his leather glove creaked and stretched as he bunched a fist, his eyes burning bright.