by Rexx Deane
He turned to face inland. The cliff ahead also seemed familiar, as did the opening at its base. Its trapezoid wrought-stone portal tempted him into an eerie darkness within, but he had his rucksack with him and, inside it, an old miner’s lamp. He withdrew it and the lamp burst into life, banishing the shadows from the tunnel ahead.
He looked back across the dark waters, where a cool mist rolled up the beach towards him, and as he entered the tunnel and descended the stairway, a breeze brushed his neck. After several steps, the stairway ended in a large cavern leading off into darkness. The mist flowed behind him, gathering at his feet.
The flame in the miner’s lamp guttered and flared and something crunched on the sand behind him. He stood still. There was no sound except his own breathing.
Another crunch.
This too, was familiar. He should be scared. He should want to run away, but something told him it wasn’t real. A loud snort came from behind, and a warm, moist breath blew on his neck. He spun around in defiance.
A large creature, taller than a Bronadi, stood before him. Its legs were similar, with a characteristic animal bend, but terminated in hooves. The powerful, red-skinned body was heavily muscled and bare-chested. Its head was beast-like and bullish, with long horns protruding from its forehead. The demon lunged towards him and grasped his neck in huge, clawed hands.
He struggled to pry the talons apart. It was too strong. His vision blurred and his pulse pounded in his head. Surely he was going to pass out. What was this thing doing in his dream?
He was dreaming? This was his reality. He was in control!
Sebastian let go of the immovable claws, put his hands to the creature’s neck, and began to squeeze.
‘What … are … you?’ he rasped, forcing out the last breath from his lungs.
He squeezed the creature’s thick neck with all his might, crushing it with strength drawn from the very depths of his soul. It looked so real for a dream: the blood-red skin glistening, slick in the dim light. The demon stopped, rigid, as though some nerve had pinched, freezing it in place. Sebastian gulped down a mouthful of air, closed his eyes, and squeezed harder.
Something thrust apart Sebastian’s grip as a grating sound echoed through the cavern. He opened his eyes.
The creature had changed.
His hands were either side of a strange, crystalline form: an angular, vaguely humanoid sculpture made from translucent, ice-blue crystal. This was no demon. This was something else.
The monstrous entity tightened its grip on his neck.
He kicked hard. Every bone in his body felt about to break. ‘Please, Gods, help me!’ he screamed.
The crystalline entity shattered. Shards of milky glass showered to the floor, disappearing into the red sand.
Behind it stood an old man, holding a large rock in front of his face. He lowered it.
Sebastian recognised him immediately. ‘Grandfather!’
And then, it was all gone.
***
The time on the terminal displayed 03.12.
The lights came on automatically as Sebastian leaped out of bed plastered with sweat and ran to the sink. His heart hammered in his chest and the rush filled his ears as he stood in front of the steamy mirror and splashed water on his face. He wiped the condensation from the glass and noticed a bruise on the back of his hand.
‘Where did that come from?’
His reflection stared back at him, unanswering.
A reflection with a large, red welt around its neck.
A welt, with fingers.
Epilogue
Stevens dropped her bags. The departure bay was empty.
She scanned the infoslate. Where was it? The ship wouldn’t have left without her, surely? She checked the manifest.
‘… Stanford, Stevens, Somerton, Sullivan …’ She tapped the comms button. ‘Launch control?’
A man’s face replaced the list. ‘Launch control here.’
‘Monica Stevens, SpecOps. Launch bay 16 is empty.’
‘That’s correct. The flight was filled, the crew accounted for, and launched.’
‘I’m on the list, but not on the ship. I was supposed to be on the xenoarch expedition going out this afternoon.’
‘I’m sorry, there was a last-minute change of roster. I’ll send you the revised manifest.’
‘Thank you.’ She couldn’t blame the man for doing his job.
The man disappeared and a page of twenty names came up. She ran her finger down the list. Marcus Gladrin … He wasn’t there before. What was he doing on it?
She picked up her bags and stormed out of the bay.
***
Somewhere deep in space – as close, and as far, as anything could be – something dark stirred. Cold. Crystalline. Intelligent.
END
Acknowledgements
I’d like to thank the following contributors to the marathon that writing this book has been.
Doug Burgoyne for introducing me to Systems Theory, behavioural technology, and giving me the initial confidence to begin writing; Karen Malam, Emily Rogers, Robert Harris, Jennifer Saunders, Kate and Michael Poynton, and Maureen Lane for reading several dreadful early drafts; Sophie Playle, my editor, for helping me smooth out the bumps in the road and showing me how to grow as an author; Anne Shuker for her unfailing grammatical pedantry and eye for error-spotting.
Finally, and most importantly, my partner, Kris Saunders-Stowe, for being there all along. Without his support and inspiration there would be no invisible men or double-amputees running around, and the Ultima Thule most definitely would never have left the station.
As my first book, this work is the culmination of many ideas that have been bubbling up to the surface for years with no outlet or sensible way of fusing them together into a cohesive whole. I needed characters whose backgrounds could bring the disparate elements together. I needed conflict, struggle, and challenge. Challenge was brought into sharp relief when I met my partner Kris: I had never realised how difficult the very act of dealing with daily life could be for many people with disabilities. Ultimately, I needed someone who could rise up when the challenges, intellectual and physical, pushed them too far and thus, Synthesis was born.
I never thought I’d write a novel, and if it weren’t for the people above, especially Kris, I probably would never have succeeded.
About the author
Deane was born in November 1976, in Cinderford, and grew up in the Forest of Dean, Gloucestershire. He now lives in Herefordshire with his partner, Kris, a disability fitness instructor and wheelchair user.
From an early age, Deane’s interest in computer programming gave him a curiosity about the rules that govern the universe. Later in life, while performing rune readings at medieval events, he developed an interest in religion and spirituality.
In 2012, he joined a behavioural agency, where he encountered the unifying model of Systems Theory and was finally able to reconcile the two. His fascination with life’s complexity stretched his imagination to the point where it needed an outlet, and it wasn’t until he met Kris that the circumstances were right and the outlet was found in the seeds of this novel.