Trinity

by Patrick Morgan

  Not knowing what to expect, he waited to be addressed. It was the man who spoke first; middle aged with a trim, grey beard, he began with an apology.

  ‘We regret the way you were brought in, Mr Gilbert. We were expecting somebody else.’

  ‘Who were you expecting?’ asked JT, with more scepticism in his tone than he’d intended.

  ‘A mercenary. A man called Bill Connor. I don’t mean to excuse the treatment you were subjected to but, in fairness to Ira, the two of you look very alike.’

  ‘Do we?’ said JT in astonishment. ‘So you’re going to let me go? If I’m not who you thought I was?’

  ‘That’s right,’ said the older woman, with a swift assurance JT didn’t quite trust.

  ‘But first,’ continued the bearded gentleman, ‘we were rather hoping you might agree to help us. We believe you came here looking for three vehicles, ‘Unit Hydra’. Is that correct?’

  ‘How did you know that?’ asked JT, looking instinctively back to Ira, who simply shrugged.

  ‘We can offer some limited help on Hydra, some information. But first,’ he said, with slight hesitation. ‘Well, maybe we can help each other. Do you know anything about Bill Connor?’

  ‘Not much, I came across his name recently. He illicitly gained access to a storage facility in the Western District.’ He moved to qualify this statement. ‘Well, we don’t think he should have had access. We don’t really know.’

  ‘Undoubtedly he should not have had access,’ said the elder woman. ‘Let me tell you a little about Bill Connor. He is a mercenary, he works for anyone who will pay him, corporate, Rika, whoever.’

  ‘We thought he could be Rika,’ JT interjected.

  ‘Not Rika,’ said the woman firmly. ‘He does the jobs even the Rika don’t want to take responsibility for.’ She let this sink in.

  There was a brief silence, eventually broken by the man. ‘Connor was the cut-out between whoever wanted your ‘Unit Hydra’ and a part of the crew who have it now. Two of the crew are our people you see, picked up as the Unit passed through. These are people we want to protect.’

  ‘From what? Prosecution?’

  The younger woman gave a snort. ‘Prosecution for stealing a clapped-out set of desert rats is the least of their problems.’

  The man shot her a warning glare. ‘They are young, and seek to prove that they are worth more than the sentence society has imposed upon them,’ was all he offered in explanation.

  JT took a moment to process this somewhat impenetrable statement but could make little sense of it. ‘So this William, Bill Connor, he recruited your people to steal Hydra? Who was he working for?’

  ‘We don’t know,’ said the man. ‘But we would like to find out. We believe he’s gone to ground in one of the mines up to the north, a place called Mal-Kas. He does occasional work there when he’s, let’s say, short of a throat to squeeze. He acts as a sort of corporate security army of one, which basically means suppression of the workers.’ He looked disgusted, then added, ‘Most of them come from here.’

  ‘I’m not sure I understand,’ said JT.

  The man’s beard twitched in a thin, deprecating smile. ‘You may have noticed that Gygath slum is not over-populated as you walked through it. A large number of our people have been contracted to work out in the mines and refineries, producing the resources to build Aya. On the face of it, that’s good work for those of us down on our luck. Unfortunately, in reality, it’s closer to a death sentence than a contribution to humanity.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘The contracts are complicated,’ he explained. ‘First, anyone wanting to work for the companies employed by the Council has to have a sponsor. Naturally many of us have family or friends in Skala who are happy to help drag us out of the gutter. The sponsorship fee is supposed to cover training, housing, other overheads. But there is no training and there is no housing. Once you leave for the mines or the processing stations, it’s long shifts, two rotations’ sleep and the conditions are… well, you would be appalled.’

  JT was sceptical; this didn’t sound likely. The Council was notoriously careful about perceived exploitation. But a note of caution rang in his mind and he asked, ‘If it’s bad, why don’t your people leave?’

  ‘A good question and the answer is simple. Geography.’

  JT frowned.

  ‘Geography,’ said the younger woman harshly as she turned to look at him. ‘The mines are at least a hundred kilometres north – you may have noticed there is a mountain range between here and there. To the southeast are the fulgurite fields, do you know what they are?’

  ‘Vaguely,’ said JT, thinking hard. ‘They’re large areas of desert covered in conductive rods to attract lightning? The fulgurite is used to make glass.’

  ‘That’s right,’ she said, with a thin smile of appreciation. ‘I was out there myself for a time. It’s dangerous work collecting fulgurite – the lightning is almost constant but it’s never predictable. But if you want to leave you have to cross two, three hundred kilometres of desert. In this heat, with a body already broken by labour and with no water, you wouldn’t last twenty kilometres on foot. If the company that employs you doesn’t want you to leave, you don’t leave.’

  She looked off to her left again and as she did so JT studied her a moment. Her physique and the way she moved exuded a toughness he had mistaken for arrogance.

  ‘So how did you get back?’ he asked.

  ‘Under a transport,’ she replied, matter of factly, not looking at him. ‘I tied myself to the underside before it left.’

  JT gawped at her. That she could have possibly survived three hundred kilometres underneath a transport, jumping dunes and rocks, seemed hard to believe. His mind drifted and he pictured this woman suspended between flailing suspension parts, drowning in gouts of sand and debris. He looked back at her stony expression and saw a truth in it. It was easy to see that face gritted, determined and fighting moment to moment to survive.

  ‘We think the Council’s plans for Aya are optimistic. They’ve been promised a level of resource by the mining companies that can’t be delivered by humane means, so they are turning a blind eye to what’s really going on.’

  Now she turned to look straight at JT, her green eyes blazing out from behind stray wisps of black hair. ‘We don’t think our people are going to come back, and we think that’s intentional.’

  ‘Intentional? That seems very unlikely…’

  ‘As you say,’ said the man, raising a hand to halt him.

  ‘And Connor helps enforce the work regime?’ asked JT, trying to steer the conversation back to Hydra. ‘If he’s the link between Hydra and whoever stole it then I need to speak to him.’

  ‘It seems our interests coincide,’ said the man. ‘Hydra’s gone, we don’t know where, and we’re worried about our people. Anything you can learn from Connor could help if you can get close to him. We’re also very worried about conditions in the mines for humanitarian reasons. If someone can give us a picture of how bad things are, we might be able to force the Council to open its eyes.’

  JT weighed the price of freedom before speaking again. ‘Okay, I think I can probably do that. We have equipment that’s been on loan to various mining companies for a long time, more than a decade in some cases. I’m sure I can organise an inspection without arousing undue attention.’

  ‘You’ll need to get Connor to talk. Officialdom won’t be any sort of incentive for him,’ said the first woman, looking down at JT.

  ‘Take Ira with you,’ suggested the man. From his corner, Ira growled an unmistakable sound of displeasure.

  ‘Would Connor recognise Ira?’

  ‘Not a chance,’ said Ira from behind him. ‘Still, I’d rather not go. A trek into the mountains isn’t exactly what I had in mind for a vacation.’

  ‘You’ll go,’ said the elder woman firmly.

  ‘Okay then,’ said Ira with finality. ‘Audience over. Time to get you back to civilisation. It’s a lon
g walk and besides, your girlfriend’s waiting at the other end.’

  With that, Ira pushed himself off the wall he’d been leaning on and moved to help JT to his feet.

  014: SVA

  Research and Development Facility, Eastern District, Skala City

  Katherine Kane walked into Hangar 56 of SVA, immediately perceiving the sense of urgency that had overtaken the place since her meeting with Nara Falla. The short, wide corridor that served as an entrance was situated directly under the design and production offices and was unlit, giving the enormous space beyond the air of a radiant, perfectly geometric cavern. Closeted in the shadows to either side of her were numerous runs of pipe and conduit. Electrical cables spilled from hatches in the floor, like tendrils searching for a mechanical host to feed upon.

  In the centre of the hangar, illuminated from far above, stood the looming hulk of GVX-H. The last time she had seen the vehicle it had been a sparse-looking composite skeleton, suspended just off the ground on huge trestles. It had been impressive, but now, with its external carapace and all eight wheels fitted, the true scale of it hit her for the first time. Even from this distance, she estimated each wheel must be twice her height at least. The welding teams, working to stitch the acid-etched panels forming the outer skin, looked like ants, the fountains of white sparks more readily visible than the technicians themselves.

  Despite the hubbub, she was gratified to see that the discipline she tried to instil in her teams had not been abandoned. The surface of the floor, although off-colour and in need of a fresh coat of paint, was clean. The tiled walls that extended out into the enormous space had recently been washed down and a general sense of professionalism permeated the atmosphere.

  She strode out to greet John Orchard, the man who had designed a number of the vehicles in the Ground Vehicle fleet. Katherine had always been impressed by the designer’s ability to meld the data obtained from ROOT with established technology while maintaining an elegance of form.

  With Orchard stood two other members of the senior team on the project; Roy Jacobs, SVA’s rock-solid head of engineering, with whom Katherine was well acquainted, and a second man she didn’t recognise. Orchard made the introduction.

  ‘Katherine, this is Don Hoffer. I’m not sure you’ve met?’

  Katherine took Hoffer’s hand and found his shake reassuringly firm.

  ‘It’s a pleasure to meet you, ma’am,’ said Hoffer, all business.

  ‘Don has replaced Jim Davenport as Workshop Manager.’

  ‘Dav finally retired? I didn’t know,’ said Katherine, with a hint of regret.

  ‘He did, although we haven’t quite got rid of him yet. He still comes in every so often to check up on us.’

  Katherine smiled. ‘You mean he turns up, meddles, then leaves?’

  ‘Yes, that’s about the way of it,’ agreed Orchard, with good humour before continuing more seriously. ‘I’m sorry, Katherine, I should have told you, but Jim wanted things low-key. You know how he is. No fuss, no party. But we took him out anyway, just a few of us from the office.’

  Katherine nodded in understanding, then turned to the hulking behemoth before them. Nearing completion, it was swathed in external umbilical lines that ran across the floor and hung from the ceiling above. At this stage, GVX was still dependent on external electrical and fluid systems.

  ‘It looks different to the last time I visited,’ she said, raising her eyebrows in appreciation.

  ‘Yes,’ agreed Orchard. ‘Visually it has changed a great deal. In truth the bulk of the hard work, the detail as it were, was completed a few shifts ago. The assembly –’ he cleared his throat, ‘the final assembly – happens very fast.’

  ‘I’m sorry we’ve had to put you under pressure,’ replied Katherine sincerely. Then with some discomfort, ‘I hope you don’t feel I’ve usurped control of your project?’

  ‘Not at all. We understand from Nara there is a need to move quickly, and I’m sure you will be the ideal test driver,’ he said, with only the faintest hint of false conviction. ‘Perhaps you could expand upon the situation a little?’

  ‘I’m afraid I can’t, sorry. In truth, I don’t know much more about HEX’s disappearance than you do.’ Katherine, knowing this was not entirely true and feeling uncomfortable discussing it, declined to elaborate. She left a pause that Orchard felt obliged to fill.

  ‘We understand that GVX will be travelling further into Ayon than anyone has gone before?’ Jacobs probed with concern writ across his face. He was a well-built man with short, tidy hair, intense dark eyes and stubble that, despite shaving every morning, he never quite seemed to be able to get rid of.

  ‘Yes, quite possibly a lot further,’ Katherine said in weary agreement.

  ‘The most pressing decision has been the power unit,’ Orchard explained. ‘The schematics ROOT provided us with allowed for several possible options.’

  Katherine nodded. She had taken a cursory look at ROOT’s output before passing it on, but had left the in-depth analysis and interpretation to Orchard and his team.

  ‘The ideal solution for your needs would be a gas turbine, but in the timescale we have to work with, there are several problems that we are not able to overcome.’

  ‘Okay,’ she said, ‘what options do we have?’

  ‘We have started,’ continued Orchard, who was also relieved to be moving on without protest, ‘converting two of our existing V10 generator engines to run on biofuel and adapting the installation bay appropriately. Fortunately it’s been fairly straightforward.’

  ‘And you’re confident V10s will be reliable?’ asked Katherine.

  ‘And fuel efficient,’ Orchard added. ‘Electrical support is powered by a proven battery system to store energy harvested from the solar panel array on top of the chassis. It’s surprisingly effective, even in the light levels of Ayon. We’ve installed two standard mulching tanks so you can harvest fuel from any available organic material.’

  ‘Then we’ll go with that,’ said Katherine confidently and saw visible relief sweep the group.

  They turned and moved further out into the intense light of the hangar.

  ‘I’ll give you the whirlwind tour for now, but there will be a lot to cover in the next few shifts if GVX is going to be driven halfway across the world,’ said Jacobs, raising his gruff voice above the clatter of arc welders and pneumatic hand tools.

  Stopping near the rear of the construction area, he began what Katherine guessed was a hastily prepared presentation.

  ‘As you know, GVX has eight-wheel drive using the new ‘Spring Tread’ traction wheels in place of air-filled tyres.’

  Looking up, Katherine nodded. ‘I can’t imagine changing a wheel out in the field.’

  ‘It’s possible, but not ideal, so we’ve a different solution,’ said Jacobs. ‘The tread is split into sections. If a section is damaged you can unclip and replace it. The sections are small enough that they can be stored in the hold, which is over there.’ He pointed to an open compartment in the vehicle’s underbelly.

  ‘The drive to the wheels is hydraulic,’ he continued. ‘The power pack, or just ‘the Pack’ as we refer to it, houses the hydraulic torque converters.’ Gesturing to each of the huge wheels he continued. ‘And hydraulic drive via pipes instead of drive shafts means wheel travel can be increased as there is no drive shaft angularity to consider. There’s far less to go wrong,’ he concluded.

  Katherine could see the sense in this and eyed the suspension intently.

  ‘That’s clever,’ Katherine acknowledged. ‘What do those vertical slits near the front do? They look like doors.’

  ‘That’s exactly right,’ said Orchard. ‘They are movable doors that regulate incoming air to manage cooling and air conditioning. ROOT refers to them as ‘gill flaps’, although I’m unclear what the word ‘gill’ means exactly.’

  She took a few steps back, taking in the chassis. ‘So I suppose the question you are all dreading me asking is, when is it goin
g to be ready?’ All three men smiled in amusement. She was quite right of course, they had all known this was coming and had calculated as accurate an answer as possible.

  It was Jacobs who stepped in to answer. ‘We expect to receive the power pack in the next full shift, the rest part of the shift probably.’

  Katherine looked back down the hangar past the rear wheels. Jacobs caught her look and understood her frown.

  ‘You are wondering how it’s installed into an enclosed chassis in such a short period of time?’ he asked, with an air of enjoyment. ‘It would be well worth you being here to see it fitted.’

  ‘I’ll make sure I’m here,’ she assured him, reciprocating his no-nonsense tone.

  ‘Very good, ma’am. By that time we’ll have most of the internals fitted out. I’m afraid it’s not going to be very plush, but in the time frame you have us working to it’s all we can do – unless you want to delay a few shifts.’

  ‘No time,’ said Katherine with regret. She turned to address Orchard. ‘What about systems checks and whatever training you can give us?’

  Orchard looked over to Jacobs in deference, allowing him to answer since it was his work crews that would determine the timings. ‘We could use the next shift to get as much fitted out as we can. If you can allow us that time it will speed things up in explanation.’

  It took Katherine a moment to understand what Jacobs was saying. ‘No point briefing us on functions not actually fitted yet?’

  ‘Exactly,’ said Jacobs. ‘I’ve sent as much literature on the systems as we have put together so far to your office. It’s incomplete but it will give you a general overview of what a driver needs to know.’

  ‘In that case, I’ll be back the shift after next.’

  ‘That would be ideal,’ said Jacobs. ‘We’ll be ready for you then.’

  ‘Thank you, gentlemen, I’ll look forward to it.’ Katherine gave a nod of appreciation and turned to leave.