Trinity

by Patrick Morgan

  She did so and, to her astonishment a long, straight blade appeared from the haft. Even to Megan’s novice feel it was perfectly balanced, though much too large for her to use it in anything but the clumsiest manner. The length of the blade was engraved in a trellis design and ended in a curved tip which she traced gracefully through the air. Like the twin blades on Kittala’s forearm, the metal shone with an odd, dark radiance in a manner unlike a normal polished surface.

  ‘What is it made from? I’ve never seen anything like it,’ she asked with appreciation.

  ‘It’s a binary-state metal, like these.’ He offered up his forearm, which he flexed slightly before the blades materialised, then deconstructed again. ‘The molecules can be programmed to take two distinct shapes, but they must be of the same volume. It’s an ancient technology, very rare even in my society.’

  ‘Ancient?’ said Megan, astonished. ‘It looks more advanced than anything we have.’

  Kittala gave a soft laugh, but said nothing more.

  ‘Thank you,’ said Megan with sincerity. She squeezed the haft again, imagining the blade retracting which, after a couple of tries, it did.

  ‘Just don’t sleep with that thing in your hand,’ said Olson, helping Megan up. Each thanked Kittala, who watched as they made their way back outside.

  ‘Tyler, that stuff about the creature, the sewers, laboratories up in the mountains. Do you think that’s true?’ asked Megan as soon as they were alone.

  Olson considered a moment before answering. ‘We’ve no reason to doubt it. There are a lot of strange things hidden in the world. There are monsters in pure human form, trust me on that. I don’t think this man or any of the Hadje have a reason to lie, do you?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Megan, unsure. ‘When he said about the mother breeding with the child he seemed to be about to say something more…’

  ‘I noticed that, too. Maybe something in their culture…’

  ‘I guess we’ll find out soon enough,’ she said as they entered the hold of Pegasus 3.

  ‘Maybe,’ said Olson. ‘Sleep well, Megan.’

  ‘You too,’ she said. She didn’t sleep, though. Her mind kept jumping from the frenzied pursuit in the atrium to nightmare visions of a creature, pregnant and starving in the dank blackness of the sewers below the dead, abandoned city. And the Council Chamber, its startling resemblance to that in Skala; that preyed on her mind most of all.

  036: Tundra

  Ayon Tundra, 1,506km East of Skala

  After three shifts threading their monotonous way through the sparse forests that lined the foothills east of Aya, the crew of GVX finally saw the trees give way to a more open landscape. Dustings of snow became a more even covering across the olive-coloured spikes of wild grass that carpeted the borderlands of Ayon. Although it was darker here than it had been in the streets of Aya, the lack of any light pollution and the increasing presence of snow served to give the illusion of a brighter landscape.

  The definition between land and sky gradually became indistinct: low cloud, snow, even the trees were colourless and visible only in shades of grey. Birch trees became a ghostly sea punctuated by occasional darker patches of drooping pine. Only the faint, brown tinge of grass provided any sort of hue.

  ‘I imagined Ayon to be stark,’ said Roy Jacobs. ‘You can barely make out where the snow stops and the trees start. It’s almost like there’s a dark bleed between the two.’

  ‘Photographs tend to make it look blue and white out here but it’s really not like that,’ agreed Katherine from beside him.

  ‘Do you miss it out here?’

  ‘Yes and no,’ said Katherine after a pause. ‘It’s extremely peaceful, beautiful in its own way, but once we get deeper into the cold it’s also pretty dangerous. Having said that, there are six of us, which will make things easier.’

  ‘I’m here as well, Katherine,’ came ROOT’s voice from behind them.

  Katherine gave a soft laugh. Jacobs followed suit with a grin. ‘And you, ROOT. I guess we’re not in danger of getting locked out with you here.’

  Jacobs regarded Katherine seriously. ‘Level with me,’ he said. ‘Why do you think the Council let you leave with ROOT? It seems such a strange decision to me.’

  ‘I can’t disagree,’ she said with a sideways glance. ‘The rationale made sense at the time, but now we’re out here and things are a little calmer, it does seem a big step at a critical time.’

  ‘Back in Aya you said something wasn’t right.’ Jacobs said this cautiously, not wanting to press her.

  She sighed and spoke in a reserved tone that carried with it a little confusion. ‘There were some bits missing.’

  ‘What do you mean, bits?’

  Jacobs saw the muscles around her mouth tense. Taking her eyes off the undefined horizon for a moment, she looked at him as if deciding whether to elaborate or not. Eventually she turned her attention back ahead of her but began to talk hesitantly.

  ‘The city centre seemed too close to the western border. When we laid it out we made a conscious effort to provide enough housing for the population that occupy the slums of Skala. I mean proper housing, not a shanty town. That’s a lot of housing.’ She looked over to him again to underline the point. ‘But I’d say only half of it’s there.’

  ‘You don’t think it’s just not been built yet? The edge of the city as it is now will move back towards Skala before the migration?’

  ‘Maybe,’ she said, but sounded doubtful. ‘It didn’t feel that way. I don’t know, it just seemed smaller than I was expecting. The city centre looks grand even half erected but the suburbs just looked, well, limited.’

  ‘You don’t think it’s simply that there’s more around the rest of the city? To the north or south maybe?’

  ‘Possibly,’ she conceded. ‘Maybe I’m imagining it.’

  ‘I thought the same,’ said ROOT. ‘I compared the number of city blocks to the last plans HEX generated and I believe you to be correct. The city is fifteen blocks short.’

  ‘I’m glad it’s not just me,’ said Katherine, who did not object to the interruption.

  They continued in a thoughtful, subdued silence for a kilometre or more. Snow had started to fall in large, wet flakes that immediately turned to slush on the forward screen but began to settle on the ground.

  ‘I’m starting to get pretty tired,’ said Katherine.

  ‘I’ll take over for a bit,’ offered Jacobs.

  ‘No, we should stop.’ She said this reluctantly but Jacobs could see sense prevail in her despite her fatigue. ‘We need to check GVX externally anyway so we might as well power down for a few rotations. This race won’t be won in a shift. You and I should get a couple of rotations’ sleep and let JJ take a look outside.’

  Jacobs keyed the microphone to talk to the rest of the crew stationed behind them. ‘We’re going to power down for a few rotations. JJ, you wanted to check around externally?’

  ‘Yeah, that would be good,’ JJ replied with a hint of relief.

  Before they climbed gratefully into their bunks, Katherine and Roy had agreed to expand and level GVX to give the crew a little time to stretch their legs. Brendan Scott took the opportunity to prepare a fresh meal, a welcome change from the pre-packed food that had become the crew’s staple diet while on the move. There might have been little advantage in sustenance, but fresh food provided a perceptible boost in morale.

  As soon as GVX’s flanks had locked into the open position, Joanna Joyce retrieved a coat, hat and gloves from her locker and headed into the damp cold outside. Jayce Baker went with her, undertaking his own survey of sensor pods and camera positions.

  On the outside, JJ began a rigorous inspection of GVX’s wheels, tread segments and hydraulic drives. To her pleasure, and later that of Roy Jacobs, everything remained fluid-tight. JJ was used to conditions in Ayon, having been out several times supporting more antiquated exploration vehicles. She knew the cold of the borderlands was often deceiving as a resul
t of the damp. Minus seven centigrade out here felt significantly more uncomfortable than the minus twenty-seven centigrade she had experienced out on the ice. She was experienced enough to know that there was a distinction to be made between comfort and safety, and the nominally colder temperatures were to be ignored at her peril.

  Continuing the inspection, she found the gill flaps that provided the intakes for the combustion air system were working perfectly and showed no sign of snow build-up. Jayce cleaned the transparent camera covers and sprayed them with a de-icing agent to ensure clear images would be projected to the cockpit. Climbing up a set of frigid rungs, the two of them inspected the solar panels that ran across the top of the chassis. Don Hoffer’s crew back in SVA had no qualms about walking across these, but JJ preferred to stick to the central spine and ribs instead. In a moment of startling consideration, one of the designers had gone so far as to provide a sculpted recess in which was secured a convenient long-handled scraper for when the panels had to be cleared.

  Climbing the ladder to the glowing warmth of GVX’s interior, they found the rest of the crew eating together in good humour. JJ snapped the inner door shut before prising off her boots and hanging her damp coat on a hook, careful to bring as little snow inside as she could. Seeing her, Scott immediately set his bowl aside to dish her up a hearty-smelling stew of chicken thigh, carrot and… whatever else, she didn’t care. He offered a second bowl to Jayce, who took it gratefully.

  ‘Cold out there, JJ?’ asked Scott.

  ‘Not really, more wet than cold. It all looks good, though,’ she said, to reassure Baker his readings correlated with the vehicle’s actual condition. Baker gave her a nod of appreciation but, as was his usual way, he said nothing. She was grateful to be able to dig straight into the stew before getting some rest.

  Less than a rotation later, GVX’s flanks were retracted and Katherine, accompanied this time by Baker as co-pilot, settled herself back into her chair. The V10s gave their customary howl and GVX moved off to head into the remorseless grey of the tundra.

  *

  The scenery changed little for the following shifts. Katherine and Jacobs alternated as driver, supported by Baker or Joyce as co-driver. Myra Cena kept a watchful eye on ROOT, who remained uncharacteristically quiet. When she could stand it no more, she collared an exhausted-looking Katherine to plead for something useful to do. Katherine, heading to her bunk for the minimal amount of sleep she now took, was caught off guard and could think of nothing, but promised to give it some thought. Overhearing their conversation, Brendan Scott took pity on Myra and took her into the medical compartment.

  ‘If you’re at a loose end, there would be no harm in you familiarising yourself with the medical supplies. I take it you’ve done the first-aid course?’

  ‘Of course,’ said Myra, a little surprised. ‘They wouldn’t let me near GVX without doing it.’

  ‘Glad to hear some common sense still prevails at SVA,’ said Scott, who was pulling an extremely old-fashioned-looking wooden box from a shelf. ‘You wouldn’t know it from the layout of this thing,’ he said, referring to GVX. ‘These boxes should be right by the door, not way back here.’ The box was one of several of similar design. All were painted white with a red cross and all were held closed by plain-leather, wrap-around straps.

  Catching her eye, Scott began to explain. ‘The first lesson of Ayon, as Trish over there will no doubt drill into you over the coming shifts, is “keep it simple”. We use wooden boxes because they can be easily repaired and they don’t freeze up like metal, or get brittle like plastic.’

  ‘That makes sense,’ said Myra, taking his point.

  He removed the strap and flipped the lid open. ‘Call me Bren by the way. I’ve no use for formality.’ From his pocket he retrieved a small box of matches and clamped one between his teeth.

  ‘I’m Myra,’ said Myra, and offered a hand, which he shook. His skin was rough, dry and pleasantly warm. She took in his face, as if for the first time. He was not handsome but he looked hardened and strong. His chin already showed scratchy stubble, brown with flecks of grey.

  ‘Okay Myra, listen up. You need to strap something down outside, you use rope. Metal clasps, clips, carabiners can freeze up. Rope or leather is ideal. Get Trish to teach you how to tie knots and practise until they’re second nature. By that time your fingers will be bleeding and you’ll need to come see me again.’ He gave a short laugh.

  ‘I’ll practise,’ Myra assured him seriously.

  ‘In here is a rudimentary first-aid kit. You’ll recognise most of it if you’ve done the course. If for any reason we need to camp outside the vehicle, this box goes at the front of your tent. That’s not a suggestion, it’s essential. If someone gets hurt they need to know exactly where the box is and get at it easily.’

  ‘Is it likely we’ll have to camp outside?’ asked Myra, a little horrified at the thought.

  ‘No, but you can’t ever tell what’s going to happen out here. Added to that, this machine’s new and untested. A Freon leak or unexpected build-up of carbon monoxide might force us outside.’

  Myra took this in, appreciating for the first time that she had taken for granted things would go to plan. She began to feel trepidation, but also a sense of excitement, as GVX listed over rough ground before jerking level again.

  ‘I’ll take you through the first-aid kit, piece by piece,’ said Bren.

  When they were done they repacked it carefully, Myra noting exactly where each bandage, saline bag and anything else was located. Bren was a good teacher and she took to him easily, his occasional humour belying the seriousness of what lay ahead.

  Over the following few shifts the going got slower as they wound their way around the foothills of mountains, unseen above the low blanket of cloud. Snow squalls became frequent, before finally giving way to an unrelenting blizzard that obscured all conventional vision. Katherine held out as long as she could before switching to a radar-based terrain projection. She had been forced to use this system before and disliked it, despite its capabilities. Even with GVX’s advanced systems it was no more elaborate than a series of projected, meshed contour lines that gave a crude idea of the terrain ahead. The mesh itself, unable to differentiate between natural elevation and dense clumps of trees, also needed a little human interpretation. But it was good enough to work with if the landscape was obscured which, by now, it truly was.

  For the first time in more than two shifts, Katherine and Jacobs found themselves driving together and, for a change, had swapped places. Katherine, who usually liked the cockpit brightly lit, had reduced the light level to a dim, bluish hue, knowing it was how he drove when she wasn’t present.

  This was not lost on Jacobs, who’d in turn noticed Katherine grow introspective. He appreciated the gesture, while at the same time wondering whether she was trying to hide herself a little. ‘We’re getting close to the Nastra research station,’ he said, hoping to rouse her from her thoughts.

  ‘Yes, I know,’ she said in a resigned tone.

  ‘It’ll be a relief to top-up on supplies and fuel, to finally get going.’

  When she didn’t respond, he gave an involuntary sigh which she seemed to pick up on.

  ‘I’m sorry Roy, I don’t mean to be obtuse.’

  ‘You’re worried.’

  She picked up on the statement with apparent relief. She swept her hair back and to one side in an uncharacteristically female gesture that he tried his best not to find attractive. She looked over to him and smiled.

  ‘I’m worried. But we’re doing fine so far, despite this.’ She gave an overt sideways glance at the snow rushing over the cockpit’s screens.

  ‘I think we’ll do fine, too.’ From the corner of his eye he noticed her brighten a little for a moment, before her thoughts seemed to sink back to the never-ending blizzard that engulfed them.

  037: The Balance of Power

  The Meatpacking District, Skala City

  ‘I kept this place as a
reminder,’ said Ratha, pushing open a heavy, metal door to lead her small delegation into a frigid space beyond. She offered no further explanation and the clinical functionality of the room only served to heighten the group’s collective confusion. The floor was painted a dull red and had been made deliberately rough. It sloped in a little from dirty, tiled walls that must once have been white. From the ceiling, just below the harsh glare of strip lights, a series of metal rails were suspended on bulky, forged brackets. At odd intervals, large, curved hooks hung from the rails with menacing intent.

  ‘Councillor Ratha,’ said a woman, with an air of exasperation. ‘You’ve brought us to an abattoir. Are we supposed to feel threatened, or has your morbid sense of humour finally got the better of you?’

  Ratha looked back with disdain at the tidy form of the senior corporate accountant, Delta Reva. Then her features softened and she gave the group a rueful smile.

  ‘No threat, I simply want to impress upon you how close to disaster it is possible to find yourself if you choose not to keep your house in order. Do you know what this room is? What it represents?’

  ‘I’ve no idea,’ said Reva, who found herself standing a pace ahead of the rest of the group. Her brazen tone left no one in any doubt she was humouring Ratha and had little patience for such talk. Some of those behind her fidgeted in discomfort.

  ‘Well you had better learn fast,’ spat Ratha, jabbing a pointed finger. ‘You think you’re clever, hiding up there in your comfortable glass tower, but trust me, if you are going to survive in this world you had better learn how far you can lean over the edge before you get pushed.’

  Ratha eyed the group, a pitiful mix in her estimation. Most were women, but there were a couple of men who she regarded with grudging admiration. She glared at them a moment longer, then began again in a more measured tone.

  ‘A decade ago there was an agreement, an alliance between myself and some of your predecessors in the private sector. We achieved some great things together for this city. But the arrangement became compromised by a single bad apple – an accountant, much like you, Miss Reva. He was brought here, but due to the utter incompetence of his captors he escaped.’