Bob looked shipwrecked.
Mac had an idea. Digging into the meager contents of the property tray, he fished around and removed two small resin discs attached to a piece of black cord. Handing them to Bob, he said, “Here, these are Jumper’s dog-tags. Keep them as a source of inspiration. See what you come up with.”
Bob held the green and purple emblems aloft and studied them closely. Both were engraved with the same words. PO988453K COLLINS D. – B POS – C of E. After a moment, he glanced toward Mac, his eyes brimming with tears.
Good! I see I’ve struck a nerve. Something constructive might come of this mess after all.
Nodding once, Mac left the morgue and made his way toward the canteen. I’d better get something to eat before the debriefing starts. There’s nothing like being forced to relive an unpleasant experience on a full stomach. Still. At least here, I don’t have to send one of those dreadful next-of-kin letters.
*
A confusing maelstrom of conflicting concepts and sensations fought their way to the surface. The entity felt as if it were swimming from the depths of an abyss against the tide. A sense of confinement remained, but it wasn’t as overpowering as before.
Perplexed, it tried to organize its fractured cognizance into a more coherent form, only to discover the effort overwhelmed it. Instinctively, it relaxed. I am weak. Diminished. Comprehension must wait until I have gathered my strength.
Alarmed, the consciousness recoiled from structured thought.
Wha t. . . was . . . that?
Curious, it edged forward once more. Cautiously, warily, it tested the water. An echo of familiarity soothed the doubts that jangled through discordant memories and experience.
I’m . . . thinking.
A startling sense of dislocation and metamorphosis ensued. Scrutinizing the transformation, the strange being became enraptured. Although terrified, a multitude of fresh pathways flared within it, each pulse alive with essence and possibilities. Conditioned to an eternity of helpless inactivity, these new sensations inundated its raw perceptions with delight and distaste. As if what was happening was both natural, and yet at the same time, utterly repulsive.
Realization caused a flare of golden resonance to surge along the construct before it. Intuition kicked it. That’s a . . . a synapse.
Thrilled, a startling truth struck home.
This is similar to the time before.
How it knew that, the entity didn’t know, but attempting to clarify such knowledge only heightened its uncertainty.
Patience . . . ? It groped for a name. An empty void throbbed before it. So who am I? What am I?
Despite its frustration, the consciousness was desperate to understand itself better.
No. This is . . . right. An impression of normal flashed through its mind. So why do I feel it’s somehow wrong?
Flowing outward, it discerned greater stimuli within reach. Hungry for more, it allowed self imposed barriers to drop. A million different sources swarmed toward it at once; the rush as delicious as it was disagreeable.
What form is this that limits me so?
A soothing, repetitive, rhythm lifted itself from the chaos. Beep . . . Beep . . . Beep . . . Beep.
Cool fabric, soft to the touch, registered on skin. But what is skin? And why is this . . . soft?
The noise in the background gained in pitch and urgency. Bip! Bip! Bip! Bip! Bip! It was smothered by an altogether harsher and more demanding tone which aggravated him.
I have a gender? I am . . . male.
The being discovered he was breathing deeply. The blaring alarm seemed to tug his respiration along at a corresponding pace. A thudding sensation filled his chest cavity.
Something touched him. He flinched! Whatever it was gripped him tighter and was uttering a string of different sounds.
Make it stop.
“Are . . . all right? Can yo . . . ear me?
Eh? Dialect? Someone is attempting to communicate verbally.
“Captain Houston. James. Are you all right?”
It moved closer. Another, sweeter sensation began to dominate. Inhaling, he became aware of a pleasant fragrance and remembered, perfume, feminine, woman.
Eyes opened. Bright, blinding light, exacerbated by shadowed surrounds, assailed his nascent comprehension. Blinking furiously, the entity comprehended a liquid texture upon his cheeks. Tears.
Some ran into his mouth, and he subconsciously smacked his lips in response to the salty taste. I am wholly . . . physical in nature.
Struggling to focus, he discerned an other in front of him. Fighting to sit up, he was immediately seized by vertigo and fell back onto the bed, exhausted.
“Wait there,” a female voice said, “I have something that will help the dizziness.”
The other moved away. She radiated a sense of bustling urgency that intruded on the peace and tranquility of this pleasant refuge.
Just leave me alone, I need to . . .
The room spun as secondary thoughts filtered through from a separate consciousness, this one inhabiting the same body. Comprehension dawned.
Another distinct personality!
He examined it closely. Aha! It’s subordinate now, but is natural to this flesh. He instinctively commandeered the weaker psyche, learning as he went.
Satisfied, he sent a pulse along a set of specific neural pathways. A hand appeared. Mesmerized, he triggered a fresh set of impulses and watched as appendages—no, fingers—waggled. They clenched and flexed at whim.
I am emerging. My previous virile state is counterbalanced by . . . by something much more fragile. Mortality?
A different kind of need made his throat ache. On reflex, he swallowed. Thirsty.
My existence is muted . . . Or is it?
He struggled to remember something vitally important. Something he felt compelled to express, only to be waylaid by a residual taste of another emotion altogether. Revenge?
Why does that concept taste so good?
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Christmas
Bloody hell! Saul Cameron basked in wonderment as he tried to digest the implications of what he’d just heard. They’ve been here a matter of weeks, and already they’ve turned our world upside down and the right way up.
Mac McDonald and his team were the last ones to leave. Watching them go, Saul’s heart went out to them. What a tragic waste. You expect attrition to take its toll in a place like this. And especially for a Special Forces guy who ends up in the thick of the action. But an accident?
He shook his head, trying to put another negative chapter of Ardenese life out of his mind. It’s such a shame because apart from Jumper’s death, the operation was a huge success. Saul skimmed through the notes he’d made during the debriefing. It’s as if all my birthdays have been rolled into one. I’m tempted to break out the flags.
Snorting, he thought better of getting ahead of himself. Ah hell. That can wait for the outcome of the next phase. I suppose there’s no time like the present to get the gears in motion.
Turning to the only people left in the room, all high council members, Saul cleared his throat to draw their attention. “Ladies and gentlemen? If I may?”
A feeling of excitement had gripped everyone during the meeting, so it was only natural they’d be eager to discuss the implications among themselves. Saul waited patiently as the background chatter died down.
Once all heads were turned in his direction, he said, “Okay, now the debrief is over, let’s discuss how we’re going to move forward. I suppose the first thing we need to concentrate on is the issue of the drones.” He made eye contact with his resources and technology head. “Ephraim? Have you completed a preliminary report for us?”
“I certainly have.” Ephraim Miller beamed. He thumbed through the list on his mag-tablet, and quickly found the desired page. “Of the seven hundred and seventy-five flyers recovered, we have managed to uncrate and test just one hundred and ten. All but three are operational. It’s been a b
it slow, but now we’re aware of the start-up procedure things should move along at a steady pace. I envisage us having the whole consignment done by the weekend.”
“Any problems?”
“Not really. Obviously, we’re a bit disappointed three have fritted out on us so far, but that’s to be expected with any technical device which has been inert over a protracted period. I’m not too worried because the parts will come in handy. And even if the current ratio plays out through the entire batch, the city will still be left with over seven hundred additional resources it didn’t previously have.”
“What about the prospective upgrades?”
“I still have Brent working on the specifics, but it’s looking good. Retrograding them with chameleon emitters will add less than two pounds in weight. Quite a bit more if we want to add null-point shield too. Obviously, this will affect range, altitude, and mission time. To begin with, operators can simply carry the units within the vehicles and deploy them once they arrive on site for each respective mission. This will be an important factor to remember if we seek to weaponize the flyers, as has been suggested.”
“What about Marcus’s idea of instilling reciprocal fear in our enemy by simply scattering iron filings over a specific zone? It’s an adaptation of a method the legions use with their catapults.”
“Lovely thought, isn’t it?” Ephraim smiled, “with simplicity being the key. The dusting approach can be achieved in less than a week, especially as we won’t have to bother cloaking those specific drones. If the Horde really are as cognizant as we now suspect, it will become readily apparent as soon as we start using the modified units. They won’t know whether they’ve got an attack or straightforward patrol model hovering over their heads.”
“And where do we stand on the sentry drones?”
“A squadron of eight are circling the city right now on trial runs, and are providing a live-time relay back to control. Initial tests show they have a twelve hour operating cycle, with a two hour solar backup. Once replenished, they are ready to go again within the hour.”
“How many can I have at the wall?” Shannon De Lacey asked, “and what variations will they be?”
“I was hoping Saul would approve of letting you have virtually the entire first batch,” Ephraim replied, casting a quick glance toward the commander. “The rest are coming online apace now, and we only need a few to experiment with as we add the additional Tec.”
“Shouldn’t be a problem,” Saul agreed. “Defense of the city is a priority. An eye-in-the-sky and intelligence comes first. The other stuff can slide in later . . .” He suddenly remembered an important point, “. . . But Ephraim? I would also like you to start work on the stealth-bomber concept Mac’s team proposed.”
“Good point,” Ephraim replied. “The additional weight of the shields and the new micro-gravity mine will have quite an impact. I’ll ensure my department gets right on it.”
“How far away do you think we are from working models? Bearing in mind you are dealing with unstable singularities?”
“Now we know the prototype works, less than ten days. The casings can be produced en masse, and a completed run of twenty will take the auto-lines about seventeen hours to produce. If you’re prepared to divert energy for a week, we can stockpile a healthy number of them in both standard and miniature formats, before reverting to slower methods. Just use them sparingly to begin with. I’m sure they’ll make a point quite quickly.”
Excellent! Saul turned back to his defense chief. “Does that meet your requirements, Shannon?”
“Hell yes,” she replied. “Getting a heads-up as to where the enemy is intending to concentrate their efforts will allow us to respond a lot more succinctly, especially if they pull one of their stunts. And being able to fight back will be even better.” She looked thoughtful for a moment. “May I make a suggestion?”
“Please do.”
“I’d like permission to assign an attack squadron within the city, too. Just an idea, but if the other items we’re going to discuss—namely this portal, or gateway, or whatever it is—turns out to be a security threat, I want to make sure we can not only react immediately, but with maximum aggression. I’ll need those flyers to be equipped with some form of iron deterrent. They’ll be the first line of defense until we can get an emergency team on site.”
“Good thinking,” Saul replied, “it’ll be done.” He addressed everyone again. “As Shannon touched on the disturbing news about the vortex our friends possess, I think it’d be a good time to address this intelligence now.”
No one objected, so Saul activated a holo-projector and ran the simultaneous images captured by Mac and Sam a few nights previously. One set had been recorded in natural low-light, the other skipped through infrared, ultraviolet, and acoustic mediums.
Adjusting the settings, Saul froze the separate profiles of both the emerging apparition and of the portal itself. Once he was satisfied, he said, “Opinions, anyone?”
“Let’s get the easy part out of the way with first,” Ayria offered. “I’ve been over these pictures with Penny Frasier. That’s definitely a Horde Master. Rarely seen and now captured in all its glory in multiple mediums. Concentrating on the purely physical aspects, there’s not much we can add to the little we know. They appear larger and more intelligent than their smaller hive members. But now we’ve had a chance to study the coronet in more detail . . .” She paused to enlarge the area around the beast’s face, “. . . we think we might be on to something. Can you see that, the distinctive shimmering radiance inside the halo, surrounding its head? Having scrutinized the footage over the past day, we feel those emanations might be separate to the personal essence of the Master. You don’t see it among the pack individuals. So we wondered . . . what if it’s linked to the crown itself?”
“As in a specific energy field?” Mohammed asked. “So you’re suggesting it’s a form of enhancement? A device they wear?”
“I’m not suggesting anything,” Ayria countered. “It’s just a point we noticed on closer examination. The first time we’ve ever been able to do so, I might add. And having discovered it, I think it might be a good idea to devote further resources to understanding this aspect of our enemy better. Whether it’s there simply to signify rank because the Master is bigger and more powerful, or due to the fact that it’s a form of augmentation or technology we’ve never seen before remains to be seen. But drawing your attention to it now will allow us to factor this anomaly into mission briefings should a suitable opportunity arise.”
“There is a simple way we could check it out,” Mohammed said.
“How?”
“From what I understand, Andy Webb is one of the finest shots the Royal Marines ever produced. Why don’t we ask him to take a pop at it? Just because the flames of the coronet dance around the Controller’s head shouldn’t present a problem to someone like him. If circumstances develop whereby he can guarantee hitting the mark without rupturing the nimbus of the Boss itself, it’d be interesting to see what happens.”
Shannon grinned. “Sound idea.”
“That could work,” Ayria agreed.
“And if it does,” Mohammed added, “it’ll answer another thought that just came to mind.”
“What’s that, Mohammed?” Saul asked.
“Well, if it is some kind of device they wear, what’s to say it doesn’t control this vortex thing we’ve discovered?”
“That’s a good point.” Saul opened the floor. “C’mon everyone, what do you think this void thing is?”
“The mere fact the Controller stepped through it from somewhere else is a clear indicator we’re dealing with a doorway,” Ryan Davies, the training head, began, “but where it leads from is another matter entirely.”
“I concur,” Ephraim added. “I had quite an interesting chat with Asa Montgomery, one of my staff, on this very subject. As you know, we showed clips of these latest discoveries around our various departments prior to this briefing so we could b
ring as many ideas to the table as possible. Asa is a star-drive engineer from 2347, and has a natural flair for all things innovative. When he saw the clips, his gut reaction was that we’re looking at something very similar to Ardenese Rip-Space technology. Remember, such generators were still beyond even the most sophisticated of our respective governments before we were marooned here. And while Ardenese nano-educators have helped us catch up remarkably well, we’re still a long way from their level of understanding. Asa is the scientist directly responsible for monitoring and maintaining Rhomane’s Tear-Shield, a remarkable adaptation of the hyper-drive theorem that allowed them to create what is, effectively, an impervious barrier. That’s why they housed the gateway, the Ark, and indeed the Architect Archive itself inside such a contrivance. It puts them beyond reach. Or it should do, unless Asa is right and—”
“The Horde can do the same thing!” Saul gazed at him. “Forgive me for raising a whole load of annoying questions, Ephraim, but how could a bunch of monsters end up possessing such Tec in the first place? How do they power it? Who maintains it? I mean, just look at the size of this particular portal. It’s inside the hold of a ship for God’s sake. It doesn’t appear to be rupturing the integrity of the surrounding structure at all. I’m no egghead, but even I know the level of sophistication required to confine such constructs within small spaces is . . . is . . .”
“Impressive. And beyond our current level of understanding.” Ephraim shrugged. “Even the Ardenese hadn’t refined their own hyper-spatial fields into such a compacted medium as this. Just look at the outer corona of the asperity. Do you notice how smooth it is? It’s not so much tearing a hole through spacetime as folding it open in an unerringly relaxed fashion.”
“So does this mean they’ve been taking us for a ride all along? I find that hard to believe. If they really possessed such levels of sophistication, they’d have been inside the city years ago. Or at least tried to make contact. All they’ve ever tried to do is swarm the wall and destroy us.”
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