Creyson Parthy & The Trojan Attack

by Richard Bailey

  Chapter Fourteen

  ‘Control Centre’

  Standing in the control centre of The Hub I felt utterly useless; like a piece of furniture you no longer want but don’t have the heart to throw away. This world was unfamiliar to me, a world of government secrets, deadly weapons, and new civilisations. The structure of Valiros was fabricated on top of a conspiracy of lies, making it almost impossible to find the truth buried under the foundations of deceit.

  I had no solution to this disaster that threatened two worlds; what they wanted, I simply didn’t have.

  I was ignored while scientists raced around me from one control panel to another, some speaking in Valiron, others in an alien tongue that I didn’t recognise. The room was bursting with anxiety. The air had grown heavy with tension, and the weight of it was debilitating. All the people in the room were focused on their jobs; following any orders given with quick precision. I envied their focus and wished I had some incentive to direct my own dread that was growing exponentially.

  Back in Flon’s laboratory, I’d been dumbfounded following the revelation about my grandfather.

  “Why didn’t my grandfather tell me?”

  “Secrecy, Mr Parthy,” It was becoming difficult to tell a secret from a lie. “The identities of the Trojan Keepers are classified. They maintain the most lethal weapons ever constructed. If their cover were to be exposed it would make them targets to rogue groups both Valiron and Human.”

  “Like the Veils.” I remarked.

  “And The Order of Darkness,” added Flon.

  “I’ve never heard of ‘The Order of Darkness’.”

  “They have no bearing on our current situation. I suggest we save that conversation for another day.” Drake quickly interjected.

  My mind was a muddle.

  Gorn stepped towards me. “As you can see Mr Parthy, you’ve inherited far more than a charming one bedroomed unit on the edge of the city.”

  His statement raised my suspicion. “You’ve been to my unit?”

  “Of course not, why would I?”

  I knew he was lying. I didn’t want to push the issue, and there was a far more pertinent question to ask, one mystery that eluded me.

  “Does all this have anything to do with the disappearance of my mother?”

  The group seemed reluctant to answer my question, and there was sadness in Drake’s eyes. I still clung to the hope that we would be reunited; the question I needed to ask next could have potentially destroyed that hope.

  “Is she dead?”

  “No.” Drake was quick to answer. “We believe your mother is very much alive.”

  I should have been overjoyed, but instead I felt wounded. My family had abandoned me by death or desertion; I’d been left to face the world alone. All those times I’d dreamt of finding my mother, imagining what had happened to her, and now I was being told she was alive.

  “Why hasn’t she tried to find me? Why hasn’t she contacted me?”

  “She can’t. Your mother…” Gorn paused. “Your mother plays a different role. In many ways, she’s just as important as you are.”

  I wanted to know more. I needed answers, but before I had a chance to ask more questions, the female voice resounded around the room.

  “Control centre to Doctor Flon.”

  “Yes. Hello.”

  “Doctor, the Trojans have tapped into The Hub’s power systems. The devices are currently at ninety percent capacity.”

  It was Drake who answered the disembodied voice. “We’re on our way.”

  “Understood. Control centre out.” The Minister addressed Flon. “I thought you said we had more time?”

  “It appears I miscalculated.”

  “Recalculate. If they’ve started drawing power from The Hub, best estimate, how long do you think we have?”

  “Hmmm. Estimate? Basing it on the amount of power The Hub generates, and taking into account the Trojan’s current power demands… Twenty minutes, maybe a little more.”

  I didn’t think it was possible for Drake’s face to turn any greyer than his natural skin colour, and I was right, it was no longer grey, his face had turned completely white.

  “We need to get to the control centre. Mr Parthy, I suggest you accompany us.”

  The pair made a quick exit, wasting no time in racing their way out of the laboratory. I followed as requested.

  In my haste to leave, I tripped over a small bin and stumbled. My hip collided with the edge of Flon’s desk. I yelped as a small framed picture tumbled to the floor cracking the glass.

  “Clumsy boy,” accused Gorn.

  Picking the frame up, I began to place it back on the desk; while skimming the image. I stopped and brought the photo closer to my face. Staring back at me were a collection of faces, but one specifically stood out, making my rocky world even more unstable.

  “What are you waiting for boy?” he rasped, slipping a small piece of wood between his lips and chewing its end.

  I didn’t know what to say. Did I trust Gorn enough to tell him? I believed he had been to my unit, leaving behind his discarded, chomped twig. Trojan Keeper or not, I couldn’t figure out if he was an ally or an enemy.

  I could have been wrong, but if this picture meant what I thought it meant then the situation had become a great deal more treacherous. I had to tell Minister Drake first.

  “Nothing. Sorry.”

  I replaced the picture on the desk and hastily left the lab, with the Trojan Keeper heading up the rear. I would have preferred to have Hagget in front of me rather than behind. My grandfather had told me to trust no-one, and with lies and deceit practically ricocheting off the walls, that felt like good advice.

  When we arrived at the control centre Gorn found a quiet spot and remained silent; watching events play out.

  Immediately it became apparent to me that the situation had dramatically deteriorated. The busy vibe I had felt upon arriving at The Hub had been replaced by a nervous urgency that coursed through the room.

  A sudden deafening blast made everyone gasp.

  The floor trembled under our feet, and equipment around the room shuddered. The bustling conversation ended as we all reached for anything to stable ourselves. The sounds of metal clanking, and rubble tumbling echoed through the walls, and you could feel the vibrations shuddering through your body. Everyone in the room froze as if time had stopped.

  “What was that?” gasped Drake.

  “It felt like an explosion,” deduced Flon.

  “Confirmed,” said one of the scientists. “Internal scanners show an explosion was detected in the link corridor.”

  Drake and Flon both ran to the vanishing door. The Minister swiped his hand over the glowing glass, and the door began to disappear, revealing the devastation behind.

  The smooth walls of the corridor were charred black, and the reflective floor was covered in debris from the collapsing ceiling. Lights flickered, flames smouldered gently, sparks erupted from exposed cables, and smoke filled the air. The hatch to the Dorow wasteland looked as if someone had punched a hole through its centre causing the metal to buckle outward in a jagged, twisted opening. A large chunk of the ceiling had fallen on a diagonal at the far end of the passageway, blocking entry to the opening.

  The heavy door leading to the corridor managed to protect the control centre from the blast, but access to the outside world via the passage would be impossible.

  “Was anyone hurt?” called Drake to no-one in particular.

  “No injuries have been reported,” came the response from somewhere within the control centre. “The corridor was empty.”

  The Minister seemed relieved as he pulled Flon to one side. I tucked in behind them.

  “Flon, what would cause this?”

  “There was nothing within the corridor that would cause an explosion of this magnitude.”

  “Something caused it.”

  “Clearly, but until I do an investigation I have no idea what it was
.”

  “Take a guess.”

  “I would guess that someone planted an explosive device in the corridor; most likely to prevent anyone from leaving The Hub. But that’s just a guess.”

  I edged myself closer creating a small huddle. “Why would someone want to stop us from leaving?”

  “We can debate their reasons later,” muttered Drake. “For now we have more pressing matters to contend with.”

  The pair separated, and I subtly followed after Drake, trying to remain out of earshot of others in the room. I wasn’t even sure I could trust him, but I needed to tell someone about my discovery.

  “Sir…” I whispered.

  “Not now Mr Parthy,”

  “But sir, I need to speak with you. It’s rather urgent.”

  He huffed. “Is it to do with the code?”

  “Well no, but…”

  “Then later, Mr Parthy.” His words were final.

  He walked away from me, pacing further into the room. He had no reason to listen to me. He was a Minister with a Trojan Keeper, the Head of Research and Development, the military, and a room full of scientists at his disposal; whereas I was as useful to the Minister as an empty cooking compartment was to Zeal.

  Flon set back to work. “Any change to the Trojans?” he urgently asked a young scientist sitting at one of the control stations.

  “They’re at ninety-one percent and rising, Doctor,” was the alarmed response. “They’ve started draining our main generator.”

  “Counter measures?”

  “We’ve powered down the lower levels and redirected power to all key systems.”

  “Very good.” He sounded as if he were congratulating a child who had taken their first steps.

  “Doctor Flon,” I called. “Why are the Trojans draining our power?”

  “Because that’s what they were designed to do.”

  “So that’s why Valiros is losing power.”

  “Very good Mr Parthy,” applauded Flon without even taking a beat from his work to acknowledge me.

  When it came to computers, the wacky scientist was like a skilled craftsman. His hands glided over the control panels with elegance and grace.

  Remnants of smoke that had bled into the control centre from the devastated corridor made Gorn cough as he spoke, “The devices are assigned to different areas to prevent them drawing their entire power from one place.”

  “We created a weapon that would cripple our own power supply? Why would we build something like that?” My question sounded more sarcastic than curious.

  “They were never meant to affect Valiros, at least not to this extent,” growled Gorn.

  I was getting the strong impression the Trojan Keeper didn’t like me much; that was fine, I didn’t like him much either. “Whoever sent the order to attack also reprogrammed them; increased their power demands.”

  “And this… traitor, managed to reprogram them without your knowledge?”

  Gorn’s face reddened. “What are you suggesting?”

  “I just want to understand how they could get away with it.”

  Drake cut in before our discussion had a chance to spiral into a slanging match of accusations. “We don’t have time for a science lesson, Mr Parthy. Flon, there must be a way we can disconnect the Trojans from the main power supply?” Even during this stressful situation Drake’s slow, sluggish dialogue refused to speed up.

  “Minister, Minister, Minister,” spluttered Flon. “The Trojans were built to drain power; it’s the essence of their design. You see, they’re not connected to the power supply.”

  “Which means?”

  “Which means there’s nothing to disconnect them from.”

  I put my hand up like a child at school. “Surely they have to be connected to something.”

  “Well, yes and no… hmmm, I guess it’s time for that science lesson after all.” Flon leaped to one of the control panels and began punching buttons. The main viewing terminal sprang to life showing a detailed schematic of a Trojan Device.

  “The Trojans were built to destroy Earth. They attack in four stages. Mr Gorn, care to explain what those stages are?”

  Gorn kept his gaze on the viewing terminal. “Stage one – they use the power from Valiros to launch. Stage two - they position themselves at key areas around the Minister’s planet, knocking out all communication systems. Stage three - they drain all the power from the targeted area. Stage four - once each target is powerless, and the Trojans are fully charged, they detonate.”

  “The Trojans are bombs?!” I was horrified.

  Gorn grinned. “A single Trojan could destroy Trans Central and most of the surrounding area.” He seemed almost proud.

  “And there are over six thousand devices ready to launch.” Flon happily pointed out with the same gusto as he described the ventilation system.

  “Have your people been made aware?” Gorn asked Drake.

  “Evacuation procedures have been implemented, but we’re still predicting human losses to be in the billions.”

  “Now,” Flon acted like Drake’s statement was a trivial matter. “It was vital that during stages one and three the devices didn’t fail in drawing the energy they needed. Each Trojan is fitted with a receiver, but instead of receiving data, it receives power. Normally the devices would only require a quarter of the power they’re currently demanding from us.”

  “Just enough power to get them there,” I concluded.

  “Exactly. They would use the energy from Earth to reach full capacity once at the surface. Our rather ingenious programmer has, in essence, switched stages one and three.”

  “They’re draining all the power from Valiros before they launch.”

  “Mr Parthy you’ve grasped the science quicker than most.” Within Flon’s compliment was a hidden taunt aimed at the others in the room. “You see the problem we have, is that the devices don’t have to be physically connected to anything. As long as there’s power, they’ll drain it.”

  “So you can’t stop them?” My understanding was leading to a fear that was overriding my etiquette.

  “We’ve attempted to block the Trojans’ receivers, but they’re highly adaptable. The way I see it, there are only two ways to prevent the Trojans from reaching full power and launching. One, deactivate every power source in Valiros...”

  “Then do it,” boomed a deep voice. We all turned to see Junior Commander Fray Tork standing at one of the doorways. His uniform was dishevelled, dirt smeared across his face, his features irate.

  “Commander,” called Drake.

  “Reporting as ordered, sir.”

  “How did you access The Hub?” asked Flon.

  “There’s a military access point on the far side of the complex. It hasn’t been used for cycles. I saw the main hatch explode. Anyone care to tell me what happened?”

  “Oh, I forgot about that,” said Flon as he worked away on one of the computers.

  “We believe someone planted a bomb in the corridor,” answered Drake. “What’s happening out there?”

  “It’s bad. My soldiers are doing their best, but panic is taking over. The people are scared, and I don’t know what to tell them. They need answers sir, and to be honest, so do I. ‘Technical difficulties’ just isn’t going to cut it”

  “Quick catch up,” yelled Flon, finishing off with the computer console. “The Trojan Devices are weapons; they’re draining all our power and preparing to attack a civilisation of people called humans who live outside the Sphere.

  “So not ‘Technical difficulties’ then.”

  “I estimate less than ten minutes before launch. Any questions?” The patronising manner by which Flon delivered his question riled Tork.

  “Just one. Why don’t you turn off the power?”

  Flon laughed. “Ah, the simple mind of the military.”

  “Doctor,” snapped Drake.

  Flon realised he needed to explain himself. “Commander, as I was explaining before y
ou arrived, disconnecting the power supply to Valiros is certainly one option; however it would be far from a permanent solution.”

  Flon’s cheery tone only seemed to fuel Tork’s frustration. “Why?” he bluntly asked.

  “Isn’t it obvious?” He looked between Tork, Drake, Gorn and me. “Clearly not. Well the Trojans would still be active of course. The moment we turned the power back on they would simply start charging again. Back where we started”

  “But it buys us some time.” Tork was no scientist and his simplistic remark amused Flon.

  “Junior Commander Tork, perhaps you should leave the thinking to the scientists.”

  The commander was already bad-tempered, and Flon’s dismissive attitude was not helping.

  The muscles in Tork’s face tensed. “Do you want to say that again?”

  The doctor may have been unorthodox, but he certainly wasn’t stupid. Tork was on the verge of physical violence, and Flon could see it.

  “Forgive my rudeness, but despite the fact it’s going to take more time than we have to turn off the power, if we wish to find a way to stop the Trojans permanently then we’re going to need power to do it. Shutting everything down would be a last, and rather final, resort. Clear?”

  Drake stepped in to defuse the confrontation before Tork took a swing a Flon. “Doctor Flon, you said there were two ways to prevent the Trojans from reaching full power.”

  “Yes. The reason Mr Parthy’s here. Input the deactivation code.”

  This was the last straw for Tork. He addressed me with a look of anger.

  “Why haven’t you done that already?”

  I had no answer for him.

  Gorn spoke on my behalf. “Because he doesn’t have it,” His gaze rested on me. “Do you boy?”

  “And who are you exactly?” Tork clearly wasn’t in the mood to make new friends.

  “Hagget Gorn, Trojan Keeper.”

  “Then shouldn’t you have the code?”

  Before he had a chance to retaliate to the commander’s accusation, a high-pitched whistle pierced the air. Drake clung to his ear; pain seared through his face, a short cry escaped his lips. He pulled the shiny device from his ear with a quick yank. This was followed by several other human scientists in the room with similar devices reacting the same way.

  “Minister?” Tork worriedly asked. “What’s happening?”

  Flon ran to his side. “It’s the translators. The Trojans must have drained them.”

  The Minister stared at us with a blank expression on his face. He attempted to speak, but the words made no sense. This was the reason Drake’s speech was so slow; each word he spoke or heard was translated through the device in his ear.

  “What can we do for him?” I was genuinely concerned for the Minister, who quickly appeared to accept his plight, and flopped into a chair.

  “Nothing,” answered Flon. He picked up the translator taking it to a computer station. “The Trojans are drawing power from anywhere they can.”

  He unclipped a small panel off the back of the device and looked inside.

  If Drake could no longer understand me, I wouldn’t be able to tell him what I’d discovered. I needed to get a message to someone else in the room.

  While the group were preoccupied with the translator, I edged to the table in the centre of the room, ripped the corner from a sheet of paper, picked up a pen, and quickly wrote a simple two word message. I folded the paper into a small square and gripped it in my hand before anyone noticed.

  Flon was still fiddling with the small device. “Just as I feared, completely powerless.”

  Other human scientists in the room stood motionless.

  “Doctor, they’re at ninety-four percent,” called a voice from within the room.

  For the first time since arriving at the control centre, Gorn moved. He marched across the room towards me, grabbed my shoulders tightly, and jerked my body with each word. “We need that code!”

  “Let him go,” warned Tork.

  Gorn reluctantly complied. This was my chance. I stayed close to Gorn and forced the paper into the palm of his hand. He looked at me with confusion.

  “Step away from him, Mr Gorn,” stressed Tork.

  “His grandfather was the only one who had the code. Talsen wasn’t stupid. He would have planned for this. If he didn’t tell us the code, then he must have told him.”

  Considering the pressure in the Hub had already reached explosive proportions, I was loath to pass on more bad news. “I’m sorry, I don’t have it.”

  “Then billions will die, and Earth is doomed,” predicted Gorn.

  I wanted him to look at the note, read my warning, and act on it.

  “Not only Earth,” pointed out Flon. “By the time the Trojans are ready to attack they will have drained every ounce of power from Valiros. We’ll be plunged back into the dark ages. Without power, we’ll have no way to rebuild; at least not without human intervention.”

  “And the circle starts again,” huffed Gorn as he paced back to his corner and began to open the note.

  “Except they’ll all be dead,” said Flon. “We won’t be able to rebuild alone. I’m afraid we’ve reached our final hour with the loss of all our power.” Flon giggled. “Ooh that rhymed.” No one laughed. The doctor’s lighthearted limerick was clearly inappropriate.

  Tork moved to my side and spoke gently. “Creyson, if what they say is true then your grandfather must have told you the code. I doubt he would have left something like this to chance.

  “But he didn’t. How can I remember something I don’t know?”

  “Sometimes the best way to hide something is in plain sight. Think. Search your memory. He must have told you.”

  “They’re at ninety-five percent!”

  Gorn was reading the note.

  I felt sick.

  “Close your eyes. Relax. Just try, Creyson,” Tork urged.

  I closed my eyes. I allowed my memory to drift back, back to my childhood. I remembered my grandfather’s face, his smile, his stories.

  I heard Gorn’s voice. “Doctor Flon, I need to speak with you.”

  Then, in a moment of clarity, I remembered my grandfather’s voice, the words he’d spoken each night when I went to bed, and a passage hanging on the wall.

  “A dream for one can be a dream for many.

  If I dream of a new future, could I imagine a new present?

  One dream can be forgotten, two can be ignored.

  But if there were four then six, they should never be discounted.

  A dream for one can be a dream for all.”

  “The code,” I whispered to myself. “I think I know the code.” I said a little louder.

  “What did you say?” asked Flon.

  More confidently I repeated, “I think I know the code.”

  “Think? You need to be certain, Creyson,” said Tork.

  “It has to be right. I’d forgotten. My grandfather’s position was a guarded secret. He couldn’t just tell me the code without exposing himself. So he embedded it in my mind without me even knowing it.”

  Flon’s voice changed, becoming lower and more sinister than I’d ever heard it. “And you’re certain?”

  “Doctor Flon, I need to speak with you.” Gorn was reacting to my note. Even if he doubted what I’d written, he couldn’t afford to ignore it.

  Flon slowly walked towards Tork. I noticed his physicality alter. He no longer bounced or skipped; instead he walked with weight behind each step.

  “Well Mr Parthy, are you certain?” he asked again.

  “Yes. Yes, I’m certain.”

  “Oh dear, I was hoping it wouldn’t come to this, but you’ve left me with no other option.”

  “Stay where you are Flon!” warned Gorn.

  Tork knew something had changed. “What’s going on?”

  Flon changed direction and strode to Benton who was standing near one of the control p
anels on the far side of the room.

  He rested a hand on Benton’s shoulder and patted it in a friendly gesture.

  “Don’t look so nervous, my young friend.”

  “I’m not nervous sir,” stammered Benton nervously.

  “Ah, but you should be.”

  I could see it before it happened, but my warning came too late. “Commander Tork, stop him!”

  With one swift movement, Flon whipped the Jolt out of Benton’s hand, plunged it into his stomach, and pushed the button. My dear friend’s whole body convulsed as the electricity poured through him.

  “Benton!”

  Tork sprinted towards the scientist. He reached out with both hands to pull Benton away, but Flon saw the Commander’s approach and pushed my friend towards the advancing soldier. Colliding, both of their bodies crashed to the floor. Benton wasn’t moving.

  Tork hastily heaved my friend’s body off him and began to climb to his feet, but Flon was already prepared. He ripped Tork’s Jolt from his combat belt, flung Benton’s Jolt to one side, and held the fully charged weapon flush against the commander’s neck.

  “Get up slowly, Junior Commander.”

  The conversation in the control centre diminished.

  “What are you doing?” demanded Tork.

  “Silence! Anyone moves, he dies.”

  A voice abruptly called out. “The Trojans are at ninety-six percent!”

  The lights went out, and The Hub was plunged into darkness.