The Bridge

by Simon Winstanley

  “Calculating,” Marcus realised.

  He’d seen Nathan do this before when he was younger, but the normally subtle movements now seemed more agitated.

  “Meg, I’m just gonna check he’s alright, I’ll catch up with you in a bit.”

  “Sure,” she turned and headed off, “Don’t forget the briefing later.”

  He made his way over to Nathan, who still seemed preoccupied, and gave a discreet cough to announce his presence.

  “So Rachel’s in a rush,” he glanced down the stairs, “Where’s the fire?”

  Nathan looked slightly confused for a second but then appeared to realise what Marcus meant.

  “Oh,” he smiled, “No, I’ve just asked her to get to the fragment deflector system.”

  “You, er…” he lowered his voice, “expecting trouble?”

  Nathan’s expression shifted, as though he’d just realised something obvious.

  “Salinity.”

  “Nate,” Marcus took hold of his shoulder, “What’s goin’ on?”

  Nathan appeared to reach some sort of internal consensus and his darting eyes suddenly settled.

  “Yeah,” he said, “You need to come with me. Now.”

  IMPRINTS

  Sabine’s Sea-Bass quarters were barely big enough to hold a bunk bed. The thin passage to the door was further narrowed by an improvised packing-crate table and a foldout chair. But none of this mattered to Sabine: it was a safe place.

  She sat her daughter down on the lower bunk and helped her take off her boots and socks. While Ebony began the task of changing into her nightwear, Sabine folded her daughter’s clothes and set them aside for the following day.

  She hung up the thick, padded coat that Ebony wore everywhere. When outside the submarine, it gave her daughter a layer of protection from bumps and scrapes. It also hid the deformities that extended from her shoulder blades.

  According to the DNA tests that Fai had run years ago, they were the result of a mutation but posed no threat to her physical health. Mental health would of course be another matter, as she grew older.

  On the few occasions that they’d encountered survivors, some people had avoided making eye contact with Ebony, unsure how to deal with the minor difference. Sabine had quickly learnt that it was easier to conceal her daughter’s body than deal with the ignorance of others.

  The Sea-Bass crew, of course, accepted Ebony for who she was. Like Sabine, everyone who had escaped from the Dover USV had carried some form of genetic difference. Being the first child born to their group, Ebony automatically had a special place in their hearts.

  Sabine had just finished rolling blankets into place on both bunks, when a knock came from the door.

  She walked two steps across the floor and opened it.

  “Sorry to disturb you,” said Mat, “Just to let you know, we’ll be here for a few more nights.”

  “Problem?” she asked.

  “No, just a big Trans-Field sync,” he said, “After that, we’ll be underway again.”

  “We have a new destination?”

  “Fai unpacked the logs that were in the laptop’s memory,” he nodded, “Thousands of ARC records to go through, but we think they may have found a large settlement, so we’re gonna check it out.”

  “OK,” Sabine nodded and started to step back inside her room.

  “Another thing,” Mat lifted a tablet from his side, “Fai found a folder that was dedicated to you.”

  He handed her the tablet.

  “For me?” she said.

  “Over sixty video files apparently,” he said, “Easier to give them to you this way.”

  As she took the tablet, she saw Mat look through the open door. Ebony was climbing the ladder of the bunk bed. After seeing that she’d been spotted, she climbed down again.

  “You turn your back for one second…” he shrugged, “Anyway… I just wanted to say thank you again.”

  It seemed that the rest of the crew still couldn’t stop thanking her for doing something that had been completely within her ability.

  “It’s OK,” she said.

  Mat sighed and shook his head.

  “Without you and Marcus, the records would’ve been lost,” he sighed, “Lately we’ve had so many dead ends, but now we know there’s hope at the equator.”

  “Ek-way-ta,” Ebony seemed to repeat the unusual sounding word that she’d just heard.

  Mat smiled and turned to look at Ebony who was now busy playing on the lower bunk.

  “Well,” he glanced at the tablet in Sabine’s hand, “I guess I should leave you both alone. I’ll see you in the morning.”

  He gave Ebony a small wave then headed off in the direction of the docking bay.

  Sabine quietly closed the door and set the tablet down on the packing-crate table. Ebony appeared to be occupied with a worn, plastic action figure; a souvenir of a previous, but fruitless, trip.

  Sabine touched the tablet’s screen and double-tapped the folder with her name on it.

  A message fleetingly appeared on the screen.

  [skip:play_final]

  A video loaded and filled the screen.

  She didn’t know the ARC layout very well, but from the perspective of the empty shot, it appeared to have been recorded in the dimly lit central control room. A man sat down into the shot and looked at the camera.

  “So I guess this is one of them weird logic things,” Marcus frowned, “Because you’re watching this, I already know that you made it out of the ARC.”

  Sabine quickly moved closer to the screen. He was now much older than she remembered him; his hair lighter and more receded, but his eyes still had the same spark.

  “I couldn’t account for every possibility,” he tapped at what would have been his laptop screen, “I just have to hope that you’re the one who’s watching this, Sabine.”

  She felt a chill run through her; the last time he’d said her name had been during their traumatic separation at the USV.

  “You can dig back through all my recordings whenever you want,” he said, “but I set this one to play first, ’cos I thought you might, er -”

  A quiet warning tone sounded on the recording and Marcus looked to the right of the screen. He would probably have been looking in the direction of the ARC’s common area, but all that Sabine could see in that direction now was her daughter sat quietly on her bunk.

  He took a deep breath and rubbed the back of his neck.

  “I’ll have to go soon,” he now appeared to look straight at her, “but I thought I should… get some of my thoughts out, you know?”

  “I know,” she found herself whispering her reply to the recording.

  He shook his head and smiled, apparently in response to a memory.

  “Wild once told me that I don’t fear the falls. Can you imagine that?” he laughed, “Those Paris rooftops? I should’ve worn brown pants.”

  She found herself smiling at the memory. The small leaps had been petrifying for him, but she’d been fine. Her perspectives had changed since having a child though. The very thought of Ebony slipping off a wet rooftop sent uncomfortable shivers down her spine.

  “But,” he appeared to contemplate a thought, “I guess that without the falls, you don’t squash the fears. So… thanks for putting me through hell.”

  He raised his middle finger at her; their mutually sarcastic symbol of affection. She couldn’t help smiling, something which he now appeared to copy.

  His smile faded and she saw him stare at the work surface in front of him.

  “You know, I kept imagining the conversations we’d have when we met up again,” he closed his eyes and shook his head, “Some of them seemed so real. Like you were actually here with me…”

  For so long, Sabine had held out hope that she might find him again one day. The search had given her something to strive for. Something to drive her. Today that sense of purpose had evaporated. For the first time in years, she felt lost again.

  “Wh
at do I do?” she whispered to him.

  He looked at her and sighed.

  “Gotta get back out there…” he turned away and, from her perspective, he appeared to look straight at Ebony, “… you know… take care of those who need us. Help shape the world into somethin’ better.”

  As Marcus continued to look in Ebony’s direction, it began to dawn on her.

  Sabine had known a life of running and jumping at speed, feeling the sweet rush of wind through her hair as she flew across rooftops. By trying to protect Ebony from what Marcus called ‘the falls’, she’d been isolating her from the changing world.

  “Archive had it so wrong,” Marcus was shaking his head, “They were trying to keep everything the way it was. Wrapping it up and protecting it from change…”

  Sabine looked at her daughter sitting quietly on the bed.

  “… You can’t do that,” he continued, “… You’ve gotta go with the chaos. Adapt to it. Live it.”

  He looked away.

  “I never forgot our months in the USV. The bad times and the, well…” a bashful smile interrupted him, “the very good… but I think that maybe we’re not supposed to -”

  He broke off, seemingly unable to finish the sentence.

  “I don’t know when you’ll see this,” he looked at her again, “but I hope that you found yourself a decent, er, Mr. Dubois…”

  “I already had,” she smiled at him through watery eyes, knowing he couldn’t hear her words.

  “… just promise me that you’ll name all your kids after me,” he joked, “Marcus and Blake are great names. Maybe not Blackbox though…”

  Her laugh strayed close to crying. He would never know that he had a daughter, or that her name was based, at least in part, on his Blackbox alias.

  He picked up a small black hexagon and showed it to her.

  “My Cryotrace is sorta like a personal imprint…”

  It looked exactly like the one she’d briefly seen in the hibernation room.

  “There’s nowhere I can use it outside of the ARC,” he said, “that’s why I put it next to the laptop for you to find.”

  Sabine felt her breath catch in her chest.

  In the darkness of the central control room, it had obviously remained hidden in the shadows. She’d missed it.

  His imprint was gone.

  “It’s yours now,” he seemed to be looking at their daughter, “Maybe there’s a small part of me in there somewhere.”

  She felt her eyes beginning to well up, and knew she couldn’t hold it back this time.

  His posture changed and she knew instinctively that he was bringing his message to a close. Something that was happening too soon.

  He cleared his eyes and smiled for her one last time.

  “Take care, Sabine.”

  As her vision dissolved into a hot blur of tears, she heard him tell her that he loved her, then a pair of small arms hugged her. Ebony had jumped down from the bunk and had run to comfort her mother.

  Sabine embraced her tightly, wanting to hold her forever; all the time knowing that, if her daughter was to become part of their new world, she would have to let her go.

  She felt Ebony pull away from her, sobbing.

  Rambling through childish tears, Ebony repeatedly tried to apologise for something that she’d done. She told Sabine that she’d only stolen it because she’d wanted to give it to Tessa, who’d been very upset when she’d lost hers. Through more tears of guilt, Ebony told her how dark and busy it had been, how she hadn’t meant to keep it for herself, and that she was sorry for making her mother so upset.

  She comforted her daughter and after a few minutes asked her what she’d actually taken. Ebony dug something out of her pocket and held it out for her to see. Cradled in the palm of her small hand was a shiny black hexagon.

  “Oh Ebony,” she hugged her.

  With her precious child in her arms, Sabine thought of Marcus and held their daughter for a little longer.

  OPTION ONE

  Marcus was having difficulty keeping up with Nathan as he sped back along the deck toward the Britannia’s control room, but he knew he couldn’t risk falling behind.

  “What the hell’s going on Nathan?” he managed.

  “It’s taken most of my life,” he called over his shoulder, “But I was able to put together what my dad found out.”

  “About what?”

  “The ice ring anomaly,” Nathan smiled, continuing to walk and speak at speed, “Dad’s observations were limited to what he could remember about the readings during the first anomaly trip.”

  “I know,” said Marcus, “The Sea-Bass took any data with it when it disappeared from Dover.”

  Nathan nodded, “But he formed a set of theories. He worked out what he’d need to record if it ever happened again, and he did his best to build the instruments into the Iseult.”

  “What?!”

  Nathan stopped at the door to the control room.

  “Dad didn’t think it would happen again so soon,” he looked at Marcus, “But it did, didn’t it?”

  Although it had happened twenty years ago, Marcus still recalled the day vividly. The escape from The Shard building, the climb down through a train carriage, the mad scramble to reach the Iseult. He remembered locking Pittman in the airlock and then fainting, only coming around when they’d reached Pico Island.

  Tristan and Izzy had been the only ones in the Iseult’s control room during the event. But they’d always maintained that they’d seen nothing.

  “Your parents… saw the whole thing,” he realised.

  “No,” Nathan corrected him, “but they did record the whole thing.”

  “What?”

  “Every, last, second,” Nathan smiled and entered the control room, “Lots of sensor data, but no way to know what was significant or relevant.”

  Marcus followed him through the deck, his mind still reeling. Tristan had talked about the original anomaly he’d encountered, and the appearance of the circular shadow on the seabed map display, but he’d said nothing of his continuing investigations.

  “Afternoon, Dixon,” Nathan swept past one of his deputies, “Stick around for a few minutes?”

  “Er, OK,” came the reply.

  Making their way past several occupied consoles in the room, Marcus lowered his voice.

  “You said they recorded it. Is there video footage?”

  Nathan stopped at a console near the forward window and turned to face him.

  “Yes,” he smiled, “but all of it was just static interference.”

  As Nathan began accessing files on the screen in front of him, Marcus found himself thinking an uncomfortable thought.

  “Nathan,” he dropped his voice, “Are you sayin’ the Iseult’s cameras were interfered with?”

  “Maybe,” he replied.

  “Listen,” Marcus began, “Just before the London anomaly, Ian Holister was out on the deck. He -”

  “What?” Nathan looked confused, “I’m not talking about Holister. Not unless he dived down under the ventral camera then instantly got changed into dry clothing with absolutely nobody noticing. No, I meant the anomaly caused the interference. Like it doesn’t want to be permanently recorded.”

  “OK,” Marcus laughed slightly uncomfortably, “You’re starting to sound like your dad, talking like there’s some sorta guiding force at work.”

  “I’m not invoking omnipotence,” Nathan clarified, “I’m just saying that there may be logical reasons why the Iseult was prevented from recording it.”

  “Sounds like a ‘Forbidden Knowledge’ argument to me,” said Marcus, “You’re a scientist, Nathan.”

  Nathan opened up another command window on his computer screen and began typing at his keyboard.

  “Marcus, what seems impossible to us now, is just a ‘possible’ that we didn’t know to look for.”

  He recognised the rearrangement of Tristan’s old phrase and also the word that had been emphasised. Nathan’
s agitated state now began to make more sense.

  “You found something,” Marcus kept his voice low.

  “Aboard the Britannia,” Nathan continued to tap frantically at the keyboard, “Everywhere I looked, I kept noticing tiny changes in the way people were standing or holding their heads. I had this vague intuition that their balance, or the sub’s stability, was just slightly off.”

  Marcus hadn’t noticed any such detail, but he had to consider that Nathan was Izzy’s son; she’d always had highly developed senses when it came to assessing body language.

  Nathan dismissed another window from his screen.

  “As I thought,” he said, “The Britannia’s fully laden, but there’s nothing wrong with my lateral stability or buoyancy calculations. If I’m right, that leaves only one variable that could be changing.”

  He hit the enter key.

  Two graphs appeared on the screen.

  “Knew it!” he grinned, “Decreased salinity levels!”

  Marcus could see that Nathan thought a theory had been validated, but he couldn’t see how it was connected to any of their conversation.

  Desperately trying to keep up, he took a closer look at the screen. Both graphs apparently displayed saline concentration levels within propulsion intake valves. One related to the Iseult, and the other was the current feed from the Britannia.

  Nathan pointed to one of the graphs.

  “Before the anomaly formed around the Iseult, salt concentrations in the surrounding seawater fell.”

  Nathan now moved his finger over to the Britannia graph.

  The graph was showing an almost identical trace.

  Marcus backed away from the console.

  “OK, look, time out,” he tried to gather his thoughts, “Wait.”

  “I think it’s already beginning,” Nathan replied, “But I’ve had years to get ready.”

  Without waiting for a reply, Nathan picked up the main circuit handset.

  “This is Westhouse. Report to duty stations immediately. This is not a drill.”

  Marcus felt the floor move underneath him and, over the far side of the room, a warning buzzer sounded.

  “Nathan,” Dixon called out, “We were just hit by a massive subsurface swell.”