Isle of Broken Years

by Jane Fletcher

  Floyd nodded. “Tydides’s home must be under the flight path.”

  They crossed the inner sea and passed high above the alien island. Sam thought she could pick out the Squat, but things looked very different from the air. Babs’s Okeechobee Dawn was easier to identify, moored by the quay. Sam smiled. This sort of view must have been one Babs was very familiar with. “Does anyone have any idea where we’re going?”

  “Somewhere away from the hunters. That’s good enough for me,” Floyd answered.

  An empty platform passed them going in the opposite direction, presumably to fill the slot they had left. Sam twisted round and sat on the seat. Ahead was the huge central tower, filling the skyline. For the first time, Sam was close enough to pick out details. The tower looked as if it had been bolted together from vast uneven blocks with knots of twisted pipework running around the outside.

  The platform was rising, heading for a round opening. With the rising sun in their faces, it was impossible to see far, but the tunnel clearly went deep inside the tower.

  Floyd pursed his lips. “Well, I guess it answers that question.”

  * * *

  The flying platform emerged from the end of the tunnel into daylight. They had reached a huge circular pit at the heart of the tower. The space was several hundred yards across and over a hundred feet deep around the edge. The floor put her in mind of an open cast mine she had seen, descending ever deeper at the center, in uneven, offset layers. The walls on all sides were black and sheer. Bands of dark glass might have been windows, except Sam could not see in.

  The flying platform began to descend gently as soon as it was clear of the tunnel, heading for another docking tower. However, this was far larger than those they had seen before. Instead of two flying platforms, it had room for two dozen.

  As they got lower, the black walls hung over them. The tower had seemed impossibly large before, but now Sam understood its true scale. She had never felt so small—a dust mote, drifting through a cathedral.

  The platform docked on the tower, the footlights turned off and the humming stopped. Floyd was first to stand. “So that’s how you get here. Shall we investigate?”

  “Of course.” Catalina looked eager. “Tydides’s notes made it clear he did most of his work here. I’d assumed we couldn’t get inside. This is going to be better than anything I’d hoped for in Old Town. Anyway, we don’t want to go back until the hunters have gone.”

  Old Town had been dead, but this was not. Sam could feel it in her gut. “Are you sure you don’t get hunters here?”

  “Not according to what I’ve read. The hunters were to keep common workers in check, and the aliens didn’t allow them here, except for…” Catalina shrugged awkwardly, “people they were going to use in experiments.”

  “What sort of experiments?”

  “I don’t know. Tydides wasn’t involved.”

  Sam imagined she felt as an ant might, dropped into a sand castle on the beach. The scale was impossible to make sense of. The others must have been feeling something similar. Sam saw their heads moving left and right as they went down the steps, trying to take it all in. Was someone playing games with them?

  The docking tower was a stone’s throw from the wall, and joined to it by a walkway like a gangplank. Sam peered over the edge. Due to the cutaway layers in the floor of the pit, there was a clear sixty-foot drop below her. Meanwhile, the sun had climbed high enough to peek over the top of the wall. Light was dazzling on the black glass. They would be roasted by midday.

  The walkway led to a door. “Ah.” Catalina pointed to a line of Greek over the nearby keypad. “It says, No entry to people without a permit. That probably means us.” She tapped in a sequence of letters, then shook her head. “That was the key code that got us here. I suppose it was too much to hope for.”

  Floyd put his hands on his hips. “That’s a shame. I guess this is as far as we go.”

  The walkway extended a short way on either side, forming a balcony. Sam wandered along the right-hand spur. “Hey! Look at this.” A line of marks running up the wall turned out to be a series of round holes, each with a bar across the middle. “It’s a ladder. We can climb to the top. If nothing else, it should be cooler up there.”

  Torvold was unimpressed. “You think I can make like a spider? Why?”

  “There’ll be a nice view, I bet.” Floyd slapped his shoulder, then turned to Catalina. “Do you want to come or stay here?”

  Catalina eyed the ladder. “I’ll stay here.”

  “I stay too.” Torvold thumped the handle of his axe on the ground for emphasis.

  “Suit yourself, buddy.”

  The rungs provided secure foot and handholds. Sam reached the top and waited for Floyd. He moved away from the edge, breathing heavily, and rested his hands on his knees. Sam was surprised. Floyd always seemed so fit.

  “Guess you’ve got a good head for heights, Sammy.”

  “Spent half my life in ship’s rigging.”

  “Rather you than me.” He straightened up and patted her shoulder.

  Like the surrounding islands, the top of the tower formed a ring. A hundred yards or more lay between the inner and outer edges. The only features were groups of small buildings, scattered around the outside.

  Floyd pointed to the nearest cluster of four. “Do you want to go see?”

  “Sure.”

  The ground was covered in black tiles and sounded hollow under their feet. The only marks were a splattering of white bird droppings. Obviously, caretakers were not cleaning up there. Gusts of wind snapped at their clothes. Sam checked that the sky was not turning gray, but it was just the sea breeze.

  The smallest of the structures in the group was a triangular block with a door and keypad on the vertical face. “The way up for folk without monkey genes.” Floyd smiled at Sam.

  Two huts had doors opened by simple disks rather than keypads. The first was empty. The other held a wheeled cart. Floyd slid into the driver’s seat. He pointed at some writing. “I’m guessing these are the instructions. We better get Catalina to have a look-see first before touching anything. I don’t want to be tossing a coin for the brake when I’m heading for the edge.”

  “Won’t it need a horse?”

  “No more than the Inflatable needs paddles.”

  The last building was forty feet long and open on the outward facing side. A bank of three benches ran the entire length. Judging by their height, the gallery was intended for aliens.

  “For sitting and taking in the scenery, I guess.” Floyd hopped onto the bottom row and leaned back to rest his elbows on the bench behind. “I can see why.”

  The view was certainly impressive. Both encircling islands were laid out below. The vibrant green of the outer ring contrasted with the yellow and purple inner one. Beyond them was the blue ocean. Sunlight glittered on the waves, turning the horizon silver.

  Sam spotted objects lying on the middle bench at the far end. When she got closer she saw they were a tin cup, a pair of short tubes joined together side by side, and a pistol being used as a paperweight. At least, she assumed it had been a paperweight, there was little now left to hold down, just a few tattered fragments. A weathered bag lay on the ground nearby.

  “What is it?”

  “Someone was here.” Sam paused. “And still is.”

  In the well between the benches was a human skeleton, clothed in threadbare rags. The remains lay on its side, knees bent as much as the space allowed, a hand under the skull. It looked as if the person had lain down to sleep and never risen.

  Floyd joined her. “Oh. I see. Wonder who it was.” He picked up the bag and pulled out a notebook. The paper was yellow with age and the ink faded. He turned it to the light. “G. Dupuis. Wasn’t that the name of Liz’s feller?”

  “I think so.” Sam sucked in a breath. “I half hope so. Liz would like to know what happened to him.”

  “We’ll take this to her and the rest of the stuff. It should all g
o back to Liz.”

  “How about the remains?”

  “We’ll ask. We don’t tend to go in for funerals much here. We rarely have a body to bury. She might like to see where he died.”

  Sam picked up the joined tubes. “What’s this?”

  “Binoculars. Like Horatio’s telescope for two eyes. Look through them. You’ll see.”

  Sam focused on the inner island. Tiny shapes were moving, just big enough to recognize. “Hey. I can see Horatio and Kali. That’s amazing.”

  “A shame we can’t signal that we’re okay. They’ll be worried, what with the jump.” Floyd toyed with the pistol. “We could let off a shot, but they wouldn’t know what it meant.”

  Sam lowered the binoculars. “We should save the bullets. We don’t know we’re safe.” She pointed to the skeleton. “What do you think killed him?”

  “It wasn’t the hunters. He’s still in one piece. Maybe he was sick. There might be a clue in the book.” Floyd flipped open the cover. “I don’t suppose you speak French.”

  “Don’t you?”

  “Just what I picked up going though France, after D-Day. Are you any better?”

  “I can get by. You learn a bit of everything in the Caribbean.”

  He held up the book. “Can you read it?”

  “Oh no. I can’t even read English.”

  “What? Not at all?”

  Sam shook her head. “I can find what I need in the ship’s log, but that’s it.”

  “You should have said. Someone would have given you lessons.”

  “Why? What do I need it for?”

  “Believe me, Sammy. You need to read.”

  “Why?”

  “Because everyone should be able to read.”

  Sam let it go. Maybe this was one of those different time, moral issues Liz talked about. “I’m sure Catalina speaks French. And she can read.”

  Floyd nodded and dropped the tin cup, pistol, and notebook in the bag. “Let’s get back to the others and see if there’s any info about what happened to him.”

  “Yes. Until we know what killed Gerard, we should stick together.”

  Sam looked across the open tower top. Nothing was moving, yet it was not safe. Something had killed Gerard, and there was no reason to think it had gone away. His bones gave no clue. Despite the rising heat, ice prickled Sam’s skin. She hurried to catch up with Floyd.

  They found Catalina and Torvold sheltering under the docking tower, the only shade available. The temperature was getting uncomfortable.

  Catalina opened the notebook. “Yes. This is Gerard’s. He was keeping notes about his exploration of Old Town.” She turned a few pages. “He was putting together a map. Shame we didn’t have it before.”

  “Does it say what happened to him? Why he didn’t return to Liz?” Sam asked.

  Catalina flipped to the back of the notepad. “This is it. He says…oh.” Her expression froze.

  “What is it? What killed him?”

  When Catalina did not answer, Floyd put a hand on her arm. “Is there something dangerous around?”

  Catalina shook her head. “No. That’s not it. There’s nothing here.”

  “So what’s wrong?”

  “Gerard was like us. He saw the code letters and used them, but he couldn’t go back. The key code doesn’t work for the return journey. He was able to collect rainwater to drink, but there was nothing to eat and he couldn’t leave. There’s literally nothing here. He starved.”

  * * *

  The flying platform did not fly. Catalina’s shoulders slumped. “We had to try.”

  “Damn.” Floyd stretched his arms along the guardrail and rolled his head back. “You’re sure you put in the right code?”

  “Yes. Gerard wrote it down in his book. And he tried things like typing the letters backward, and swapping them around before he gave up and…” She bit her lip. “It’s so sad. Him sitting up there, able to see Liz. Watching her day after day, and all the while knowing he was going to die.” Catalina left the keyboard and dropped onto the seat. “And we’re going to do the same.”

  “Only if we can’t find a way home.” Sam was not ready to surrender.

  “Gerard couldn’t.”

  “He was on his own. And he didn’t know Greek.”

  “Do you truly think that’s going to help?”

  “Sam’s right.” Floyd sat up straighter. “You’re one big advantage we have over Gerard. So think about the letters that got us here. Could they mean anything? Stand for anything?”

  “No. They’re totally random.”

  Torvold leaned forward, resting his hands on the shaft of his upturned axe. “Humph. Must have taken a lot of time for study. Everywhere there are doors with keypads. My grandfather was a wise man, but even he could not remember so many codes.”

  Floyd shook his head. “It wouldn’t have been like that. Madison and me talked about it once.”

  “She made sense?” Torvold looked surprised.

  “Yes.”

  “Such wonders!”

  “I can see each destination probably has its own key code. There’s only about a dozen docking towers total, mostly on the inner island. Folk could have carried a map. For doors, it’s more likely everyone had their personal code. That way the controller could set who was allowed through, on a door by door basis, maybe even check up on who’d been where.”

  Sam laughed. “Don’t give ideas like that to the merchant captains. They always want to keep a fix on everyone. The best thing about being a privateer was getting a say in the running of the ship.”

  “In Iceland, we also—”

  “Go in my likeness.” Catalina sounded excited.

  “Pardon?”

  “Go in my likeness. I saw it written on a note. It could mean, Pretend to be me, or Use my code. And there were some random letters after it.” She jumped up. Her hand hovered over the keypad. “No. It wouldn’t be a docking station code. It would be for the doors.” She was away and running down the stairs before anyone had a chance to move.

  Sam caught up with her at the end of the walkway.

  Catalina had her face buried in her hands. “What was it? Asbolf? Except it may really have been a delta. So—”

  She pressed a sequence of keys. Nothing happened.

  Floyd arrived. “You think you know a key code to get us in?”

  “Yes. I thought the letters might be a mnemonic, so I…”

  On her third attempt, the door opened.

  Chapter Eleven

  The long corridor stretching before them was built to alien proportions, twelve feet high and fifteen wide. A series of doors lined the pale gray walls on either side, each with a keypad beside it. The floor was seamless white. The only decorations were three horizontal bands—red, orange, and green—running the length. As in the Squat, the ceiling emitted an even light.

  “According to what Tydides wrote, it should be safe in here.” Catalina spoke as much to comfort herself. “And Gerard wasn’t attacked by anything.”

  “He never came inside.” Sam squared her shoulders and marched through the door.

  If she was being honest with herself, Catalina was happy not to be first in. With even more honesty, she knew somewhere, deep inside, she was pleased Sam was with her. Catalina tried to squash the treacherous emotion. She had to remember Sam was untrustworthy—not that telling herself this before had ever had any effect.

  Catalina tried the key code on the first five doors she passed. Two of them opened. However, the rooms inside were bare and empty. The door at the end of the corridor was the only one without a keypad. It slid back when Sam waved her hand over the control disc. They passed through and emerged on the upper balcony of a large circular room. In either direction the walkway sloped down, forming ramps to the lower level. Exits led away in several directions.

  A sudden blur of movement shot out from directly under where Catalina stood. Her heart thumped against her chest. But it was just a caretaker, scuttling through
the room and away. Catalina rested her arms on a handrail until her pulse returned to normal. “That made me jump.”

  “Me too.” Floyd patted her shoulder.

  Sam was sidling down the walkway. She hung over the top rail and craned her neck, as if to see where the caretaker had come from. “They don’t clean up top. They left Gerard’s bones alone. Do you think they’ll tidy up after us inside?”

  Torvold tightened his grip on his axe. “I will keep good hold of Freydis until we know.”

  Floyd looked at him. “You’ve named the axe Freydis?”

  “Why not? It’s a good name. My grandfather was a wise man. He said your weapons were your friends, and friends need good names.”

  Floyd grinned and shook his head. “If you say so, buddy.” He pointed to the lower level. “If we’re in luck, that’s just what we need.” In the middle of the floor was a rectangular plinth with a sloping top.

  “We do?”

  “Yes. Come and see.” Floyd trotted down the ramp and beckoned Catalina over. “What do you make of this?”

  Catalina stared at the black glass surface. It was too low to be a lectern, and not level enough to be a table. “What do you think it is?”

  “Just that this looks like the right spot to have—” Floyd tapped the glass. Immediately, lights flowed over the glass. “—a map. Ideally, there should be a circle with ‘You are here’ written by it.”

  Catalina bent for a closer look. In the middle was a flashing red dot and the words, This place is having you now. She pointed to it. “I’d say that was close enough.”

  “What else can you make out?”

  Sam joined them and put her finger on the map. “That’s the entrance, and that’s the corridor we walked—” As she ran her finger across the glass the scale changed, expanding at a dizzying rate. Sam stepped back and held her hands up. “Sorry. I’ll leave it to you.”

  Catalina soon discovered the display had its own perverse logic. Nothing behaved quite as she would have liked, or expected. She turned the map off twice by accident, and once on purpose as the only way to get back to the starting point. Everything was written in cryptic Greek, except for during a few minutes of confusion after she tapped on an icon labeled, Use clear words, which unhelpfully hid all the text completely.