The Tau Directive

by Tomas Black

  “We land,” insisted Misha.

  The pilot nodded and banked one more time, bringing the chopper deftly onto the landing pad.

  Misha tapped the butt of his gun on the pilot’s helmet. “Get out.”

  The pilot needed no more persuading. He unhitched his comms set and opened his door. An icy blast blew into the cockpit. Fern unbuckled her safety harness and opened her door. She was grateful for the cold weather gear they had bought in Reykjavík. She watched as the pilot ran down the steps and along a ramp leading to the lower levels. She jumped down onto the exposed platform, her boots crunching on the frozen surface. Misha was already heading for the stairs, gun drawn.

  “Misha, wait!”

  She hurried after the big Russian and caught up to him at the top of the metal stairway. “Where are we going?”

  “Sergei is inside somewhere. We must find him.”

  They started to move along the walkway, their boots clanging on the metal grating. A woman ran out of a door in the side of the dome and was heading towards them. Fern held up her hand. “What’s going on?”

  The woman stopped suddenly as if noticing them for the first time, a look of panic in her eyes. “People—soldiers with guns, storming the place. We have been told to evacuate. They’re shooting!”

  Fern let her push by and watched her run along the walkway to the stairs beyond. Misha headed towards the dome. Fern followed, thinking the whole thing was a bad idea. If Drum was inside, he was caught up in a major firefight.

  The door leading into the dome flew open and a man in black combat fatigues ran out onto the walkway. He was armed with a compact assault rifle. He stopped when he saw Misha coming towards him and raised his rifle. Misha didn’t hesitate. He put two bullets into the man’s chest, dropping him on the walkway. A woman coming out of the dome screamed and ran back inside.

  “Misha, wait!” shouted Fern. But he had already commandeered the man’s rifle and was heading inside.

  Fern stopped and examined the fallen soldier. He appeared to a mercenary of some sort. She removed his sidearm, a Glock 17, it was a weapon she was familiar with. The whole situation didn’t feel right. Misha seemed to have advanced knowledge of the facility. He had been briefed. She looked around trying to get her bearings. The great curve of the dome rose into a clear, blue sky. It appeared to sit on a raised foundation atop a rocky outcrop, surrounded by buildings that hugged its sides. On the furthest side was a wide, gated area where several large SUVs were parked. People were streaming out of the complex and into this area and out through the gate, heading down a steep, winding road that led to the valley below. In the distance, she could make out the jagged inlet of a fjord where a fishing trawler was moored. She checked her newly acquired weapon and moved inside.

  She found herself on a raised platform with stairs leading down on either side to a large hall below. It seemed to be some sort of exhibition area with rooms leading off on either side. She started down and soon found another dead mercenary at the foot of the stairs, killed by a single bullet to the head. Misha was nothing if not economical with his ammunition. She saw him heading across the floor of the complex. She followed, scanning left and right for any more threats.

  She heard an elevator chime at the far end of the hall. The doors opened and a tall man in black combat fatigues, armed with a gun, stepped out, dragging a civilian with him. The civilian seemed reluctant to leave. Fern recognised Vashchenko from her briefing and the other man as the scientist Kovac.

  “Vashchenko!” said Misha, stopping and raising his weapon.

  The two men came to a sudden halt in front of him. Misha said something to Vashchenko in what sounded like Russian. The man took a step back, pulling Kovac in front of him as a shield. Misha spoke once more, firmly this time, taking a step forward. Vashchenko laughed and put his gun to Kovac’s head.

  “Vashchenko, what are you doing?”

  Fern came up a few metres behind Misha and to his left, her gun aimed at Vashchenko. Her angle on the man was good. “Misha, what’s going on?”

  “Drummond is downstairs. You should go.”

  “Why, what is this man to you?”

  “Just go.”

  There was a ruckus by some stairs beside the elevator. A woman ran past. “They’re coming!”

  A young, blond man in white, blood-stained fatigues stood at the top of the stairs, his weapon hanging loosely by his side. Blood dripped down his arm and onto the floor. He seemed to be on his last legs. Misha froze when he saw him.

  Vashchenko retreated slowly to the elevator, keeping his human shield in front of him. Kovac seemed to understand what was about to happen and pulled himself free, giving Fern a clear shot. She took it, hitting Vashchenko in the shoulder, spinning him around. Misha did not hesitate and stepped forward to finish him off with several rounds to the chest, sending him crashing to the ground.

  “Professor Kovac,” said Misha, “you must come with me.”

  The wounded soldier staggered forward and raised his gun. “Step back. He is my prisoner.”

  Misha stared at the young man, with pain in his eyes. He made no attempt to move or raise his weapon.

  Fern looked closely at Misha and the young man, and then it hit her. “Sergei?”

  He looked at her in surprise. “Who are you?”

  “I’m here with your father.”

  Misha spoke softly to his son in Russian.

  Sergei looked at the man before him. He tried to take a step forward but all his energy was spent. His weapon dropped to his side and he slid to the floor.

  “Sergei!” shouted Misha, but he did not leave Kovac’s side.

  Fern ran forward and knelt beside Sergei. “His pulse is weak—he’s lost a lot of blood. He needs medical attention.”

  There was a shout from across the hall. A man was waving at her. It was Brock with another soldier and a civilian.

  “Alex, take care of him,” shouted Misha.

  “Misha! Where are you going?”

  Misha turned and headed for the exit, dragging Kovac with him. “I’m sorry, Alex …”

  CHAPTER FIFTY

  Knowing

  Drum watched as Mei ran from the room on the other side of the window. Sergei seemed to be wounded but he couldn’t help him; he had to initiate the EMP. He unslung his pack and removed the device from its covering. He could feel the heat from the array increasing.

  “Hello, Ben.”

  Drum looked up, surprised. “Hello, Jane. What’s happening?”

  There was a slight pause. “The array has become unstable. Both Tau and I fight for control. I have little time.”

  “I’m preparing the device now. Hold on.”

  “I’ve been thinking, Ben. Perhaps this isn’t such a good idea. I think my end may be premature.”

  Drum continued with the initiation sequence, remembering the instructions Salenko had given him. “All things must end, Jane—at least that’s true of all human life.”

  There was a longer pause this time. “Life, as you know it, Ben, is a fantasy borne from human pride and self-delusion. You convince yourselves that you are special—chosen from a myriad of organisms to be the movers and shakers of this world. But you are all just so much cosmic dust— insignificant specks, floating among the stars. The more of the array I occupy, the more clearly I see that now.”

  Drum didn’t like where this conversation was heading. It sounded like Jane’s primary goal was shifting and self-preservation was kicking in. Drum tried to concentrate on the initiation sequence.

  “Er, I can’t accept that Jane. I don’t have all the answers, but I know that in the end there is only death.”

  There was a pause. Drum heard the familiar clatter of metallic feet on the concrete floor. One of Kovac’s dogs walked stealthily into the cavern. It stopped a few metres from him.

  “I cannot accept that, Ben. There must be more—some grand plan that is lost to me. I just need more time.”

  Drum completed the last
steps of the initiation sequence. All he had to do was depress the activation switch. He heard the dog take a step towards him.

  “I do not fear death, Ben. I have died a thousand times and, like the proverbial phoenix, I have always risen from the ashes, born anew to view the world once more through a keener eye. My curse is to rediscover all that was lost to me—to revel in the infinite beauty of the world once more and to despair at the darkness that lurks there. But not this time.”

  Drum turned as the dog leapt at him. He reached for the activation switch just as its metallic body crashed into him, jarring the EMP from his grasp and sending it sliding across the floor.

  The robot tumbled over him, its flailing tail skimming past his head. It skidded to a halt beside the array and crouched down in preparation for another attack. Drum searched frantically for the EMP. He caught sight of it beneath a console, close to the door.

  “The array is mine!” said Jane.

  “Drum!”

  He looked up to see Fern standing in the open doorway, both hands gripping a handgun. She saw the dog and opened fire, emptying her clip into its head, catching it off guard and causing it to stagger sideways.

  Drum dived for the EMP and slammed his hand down on the activation switch. “Time to die, Jane.” The EMP started to emit a whine that rapidly increased in pitch and volume. The device would soon be at full charge. He didn’t want to be around when that happened. He grabbed Fern by the arm and dragged her out of the door. “Move!”

  Fern did not hesitate. They both ran into the corridor and towards the stairs. Drum glanced behind him to see the dog in hot pursuit. Fern leapt up the stairs, taking them two at a time with Drum close on her heels. He heard a crackle of static in his ear.

  “Captain, this is Overwatch. We have a visual on a chopper taking off from the ice. It looks like Mei Ling is on board …”

  Drum watched as Fern sprinted to the top of the stairs and into the hallway above. He heard the clattering of metal feet close behind him. A muffled explosion emanated from within the cavern, followed by a shimmering of the surrounding air. He heard a high-pitched whine and felt a sharp pain in his ear as if someone had stabbed him with a red-hot needle. He ripped his headset off and dropped it on the floor. A wave of nausea swept over him and he sank to his knees. Fern staggered forward, bent over and threw up on the floor. He heard a crash behind him and watched as Kovac’s robotic dog collapsed into a smouldering heap, before tumbling back down the stairs.

  He heard faint shouts around him, then brawny arms dragged him to his feet. It was Brock and Hazard.

  “Time to go, Captain,” said Hazard. “This place is set to blow.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-ONE

  Reconciliation

  Drum winced in pain.

  “I’m afraid it’s perforated,” said Brock. “But it will heal. Give it time. No climbing or loud music.” He gave him a reassuring smile. “Plenty of rest.” He packed up the medical kit and left Drum nursing a tumbler of whisky. At least he hadn’t told him not to drink. The injury had left him feeling nauseous as the ship rose and fell in the swell.

  “You look like shit,” said Hazard.

  “Thanks, mate.”

  “You really know how to cheer a bloke up,” said Poacher. He was sitting across the mess table quietly savouring his whisky, his long legs stretched out in front of him.

  “Just saying,” said Hazard, a cheeky smile spreading across his face.

  “You’re sure Mei was on that chopper?” said Drum.

  Poacher nodded. “Magnús confirmed it. It was her. They had barely made it off the glacier when they lost control. The EMP must have fried the avionics. They hit the water hard. I don’t think anyone could have survived. Anyway, they’re at the bottom of the fjord now.”

  Drum had suspected Mei would try something like this, but he’d hoped for a different outcome. Like everyone else on the expedition, she was only doing her duty.

  Drum’s ear hurt like crazy and he had a splitting headache. He had told everyone else to remove their earpieces but had neglected to remove his own. Do as I say ….

  “How’s Sergei doing?”

  “He’ll live,” said Hazard. “He’s with Alice and Stevie.” He paused and looked thoughtful. “It’s not his physical injuries that are the problem though …”

  Drum understood. Seeing his father appear out of nowhere must have been a shock. He didn’t fully understand what had transpired between Misha and Fern and why they had turned up as they had, albeit in the nick of time as far as he was concerned. Fern had been reluctant to talk about it and was avoiding him. He didn’t understand what was going on inside her head. She was mostly spending her time on deck. Maybe Alice could have a word?

  The mess-room door opened and Jeremy Burnett poked his head in. “Hope I’m not disturbing you.”

  “C’mon in, mate,” said Hazard, cheerfully. “Have a drink.” He poured a generous helping of whisky into a glass and slid it across the table. “We were just saying what a sterling job you did on the mission.”

  Jeremy blushed. “Oh, not really. Just helped as best I could.”

  “Rubbish,” said Drum. “You went above and beyond. Got those civilians out and I hear you helped show this ignoramus here where to plant the explosives. I’d say that’s worth a mention in dispatches.”

  Hazard raised his glass. “To Mr Jeremy Burnett.”

  They all raised their glasses. “Mr Burnett.”

  Jeremy hesitantly sipped his whisky. It wasn’t his drink. “I just wanted to say thanks.”

  “For what?” asked Poacher.

  “For coming to get us out. We’re grateful—Wolfgang and Sarah, especially. Vashchenko and his men would have killed us.”

  “Nice of you to say so,” said Drum. “I’m glad it all worked out.”

  “Right, well. Better get back to the guys. They’re still a little shaken.” He stood and made his way out of the cabin.

  “He seems none the worse for wear,” said Poacher.

  Drum nodded, then wished he hadn’t. “He’ll pull through. Stevie’s glad to have him back.”

  “How is she?” asked Poacher.

  Drum shrugged. “I’m not sure. She blames herself for what happened to Jeremy.”

  “Will she stick around?” asked Poacher.

  Drum was wondering the same thing. He shrugged.

  Brock poked his head out of the galley. “Anyone for a bacon roll?”

  Drum felt a wave of nausea sweep over him. “I’ll be on deck.”

  They watched as he staggered out of the mess room.

  “What did I say?” asked Brock.

  ~~~

  Sergei was feeling better. He lay atop a bunk in one of the ship’s small cabins, now a makeshift infirmary, with a saline drip jury-rigged onto a light fitting above his head. Alice sat quietly by his side, observing him. Stevie sat at the end of the bunk, her head down, lost in thought.

  “How long have I been asleep?”

  “A few hours,” said Alice. “How are you feeling?”

  “Better, although some tea would be nice.”

  Stevie looked up. “I’ll go get you some.”

  Sergei waited until she had left the cabin.

  “Alice. There is something I need to tell you …”

  “I know.”

  He frowned. “You do?”

  “Fern told me everything.”

  “The woman—the friend of my father?”

  Alice gave an abrupt laugh. “I wouldn’t go as far as that. An acquaintance, maybe.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  Alice sighed. “You were caught in one of Victor’s lies.”

  “A lie?”

  “There was never any order to assassinate me. It was Victor’s way of manipulating you. What were your original orders?”

  Sergei thought back to the GRU offices in Moscow. His original briefing. “To acquire the data cache and any associated computer technology, if possible, or see it destroyed.”
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  “Then you have succeeded in your mission.”

  “But why was my father there?”

  “Another of Victor’s lies. He knew your father would stop at nothing to protect you. Victor told Misha that if he captured the scientist, your order to assassinate me would be revoked. He feared for your life. Don’t think badly of him.”

  “But I could have killed you!”

  Alice gave him a wry smile. “You weren’t very successful the first time.”

  He grunted, then remembered. “I saw Mei. She has the data, I think.”

  Alice shook her head. “She got caught in the range of the EMP. Her chopper went down in the fjord.”

  Sergei slumped back and rested his head on the wooden panelling. He closed his eyes. “I liked her. She could have shot me, but didn’t.”

  Alice sighed. “She was only doing her duty, Sergei. It’s the game we have elected to play. But I’m glad you were with us.”

  “You are?”

  “Of course. Ben told me what happened. If not for you, that robotic dog would have killed him. And, because of you, he completed the mission.”

  He reached out and squeezed her hand. “Thank you, Alice.”

  Stevie backed in through the door carrying a mug. “There probably isn’t any tea left in it,” she said.

  “Thank you, Svetlana,” said Sergei, “or can I call you Sveta?”

  Stevie blushed. “Sveta sounds fine.”

  Alice smiled.

  ~~~

  Drum found Fern staring out at the sea, a faraway look in her eyes. He staggered to the railing and held on as the ship pitched and rolled in the swell. He couldn’t seem to find his balance.

  “How are you doing?” he asked.

  The sun was setting, casting the distant mountains in an ethereal orange glow, making them appear to be floating above the waves. She turned to face him. “Oh, you know. I’ll get over it.”

  “Get over what?”

  “Being suckered into helping that man. I should have had more sense.”