by Nick M Lloyd
As MacKenzie entered the room, she turned to face him.
‘Dr Kusr,’ said MacKenzie. ‘Are you ready to start?’
‘No,’ replied Kusr, not moving.
Ten days – enough was enough – MacKenzie hadn’t pushed her too hard before but now it was time to move; and now, he had access to the tools for the job.
‘Run the feed,’ said MacKenzie.
A screen opened on the wall. Kusr quickly recognised the picture: it was her own living room.
She screamed, leaping to her feet.
Taylor scrambled backwards, but Juan grabbed Kusr in a vice-like grip and forced her face towards the screen.
Two men dressed all in black with black balaclavas were holding one of Kusr’s daughters, facing towards an unseen camera.
‘Mummy!’ screamed Amber, clearly seeing Kusr on a television monitor at her end.
A third man came into shot. His hunting knife was raised level with Amber’s face.
MacKenzie turned to Kusr. ‘I’m sorry that we have not been able to convince you of how serious we are before reaching this point. Which of her eyeballs would you prefer him to remove?’
The camera zoomed in on the knife, its blade now just inches away from Amber’s tear-streaked face.
Kusr screamed and collapsed. Juan let her hit the floor.
Amber screamed.
As Kusr retched on the floor, she didn’t take her gaze from the screen.
MacKenzie interposed himself between Kusr and the screen. ‘Well?’
Kusr’s expression softened. ‘Please just make it stop!’
‘Only you can stop it.’
Kusr took a breath, her eyes darting past MacKenzie to look back at the screen. ‘Okay. I’ll restart the tests. Do you have the new protein-enzyme mix?’
‘No,’ said MacKenzie. This was still yet to be delivered. ‘Just get to the stage you were at before you left MedOp.’
‘I want to see my children,’ said Kusr.
‘They are being cared for and reassured,’ said MacKenzie.
‘I want to see them,’ Kusr repeated, a fire still lit in her eyes.
‘Do you really want to bring them in here?’ asked MacKenzie. ‘What happens the next time you refuse to do something for me?’
The light in her eyes went out.
‘Good,’ said MacKenzie, pointing at the cages of mice. ‘You’ll have new data in a few days. Meanwhile, rerun what you had achieved in Leicester … just to get your eye back in, as it were.’
Leaving Juan to watch Kusr, he beckoned Taylor and they walked back to the staircase.
‘Something on your mind?’ asked MacKenzie.
Taylor indicated he wanted to go further below ground.
Heading down an additional floor, they entered their quiet room. MacKenzie secured the doors and activated the electromagnetic field – no one could overhear.
‘The Ankor told me about the heroin murders,’ said Taylor.
‘And?’
‘They told me it was you,’ said Taylor.
‘I arranged it for them,’ said MacKenzie, deliberately being obtuse. It had been the minor Ankor faction that had asked MacKenzie to arrange the killings – not that he had thought for too long before agreeing. He needed that faction’s support.
Besides … one hundred thousand men and women die every day, most of them worthier than the fifty or so drug addicts.
‘This improves the Ankor calculations by a fraction of a millionth of a single percent,’ said Taylor.
‘Agreed,’ said MacKenzie. The extra deaths, and subsequent analysis of the social media response, would have done nothing to notably improve the Ankor’s calculations on population dynamics. ‘But I can’t really see your concern, given what’s happening next week.’
‘You cannot compare this with the Blessed,’ said Taylor. ‘The sanctity of life is a core tenet of the faith.’
‘I think they will accept a certain amount of fallout,’ said MacKenzie. ‘If it delivers their materials.’
I certainly have reconciled myself with the blood price for my countless millennia.
‘God has decreed on the matter.’
‘Actually spoke to the Ankor, did he?’ asked MacKenzie, knowing the Ankor’s belief was as much an act of faith as that of any Earth religion. The Ankor god, rather conveniently like most others in the modern era, lived outside of the universe it had created.
Not to mention that, coincidentally, the Ankor worship a God exactly in their own image.
CHAPTER 14
East London, Saturday 20th April
Having spent the night in the Butler Street offices watching the Ankor craft unfold whilst listening to occasional lone gunshots and police sirens, Tim and Sam ate a makeshift breakfast in the main office.
‘All okay?’ asked Sam, wheeling herself through from the breakout area with one hand, whilst checking her phone with the other and balancing a couple of bowls of breakfast cereal on her lap.
‘Except for the ever-present dread of the looming Ankor, all good,’ said Tim, staring at the smart screens.
‘We’re still going to Anglesey, right?’
‘Yep,’ he said, standing up from the table. ‘I’d better make a start on unmounting the encryption servers.’
‘I’ll help,’ said Sam. ‘Give me five minutes.’
Tim was only halfway to the door when Sam called out.
‘Tim!’
Tim turned to see her staring at a newly opened smart screen.
‘The invasion has begun,’ she said.
The display showed that the Arecibo Observatory in Puerto Rico had recorded new contacts near the Ankor’s craft. The contacts were moving blisteringly fast and were heading from their current orbit at twenty thousand kilometres directly towards Earth.
A few moments later, the MIDAS scans of official newsfeeds cross-linked with social media and produced a summary.
A-Gravs released.
Destination unknown.
Selected governments have indicated they were given five minutes’ warning: China, Egypt, France, Japan, Russia
‘I’m guessing that those are only the governments who received a warning and told people about it, rather than the only governments to get a warning,’ said Tim.
Within moments, the data started flooding in: opinions, radar tracks, spectral analysis. A few video feeds from optical telescopes.
‘They’re not coming straight down,’ said Sam.
She was right. The A-Grav units were gradually adjusting their courses as they fell, diverting from a direct descent to a horizontal trajectory that would settle them into a lower orbit.
For the next hour Tim and Sam sat, spellbound, as they watched the ten thousand A-Grav units settle into a roughly equatorial orbit at a height of two thousand kilometres above sea level.
The Butler Street office wall continued to blaze with real-time updates – although, given the size and speed of the units, no telescope could resolve them as anything more than a pinprick of light.
Creating an evenly spaced ring around the Earth, each A-Grav unit was separated from its neighbours by roughly five kilometres. Each of them completed a full orbit of the Earth just over every two hours.
‘They’re moving fast,’ said Tim.
‘The speed’s not unusual,’ Sam replied, reading from her own screen. ‘All Earth satellites in comparable orbits move at similar speeds. Too slow … and you fall to the ground. Too fast … and you disappear off into space.’
As the A-Gravs settled into their new orbits, ground-based optical telescopes managed to lock onto on them. All of the units were identical, metallic looking, spherical, and approximately ten metres in diameter.
‘We should go outside and look,’ said Sam. Not waiting for an answer, she hobbled across to her wheelchair.
‘Let me just check local news for disturbances,’ said Tim.
Sam’s eyes narrowed. ‘Only assuming you would also do such a check if you went alone.’
&
nbsp; ‘Irrelevant,’ said Tim, smiling. ‘If I was alone, I’d be locked in the toilets.’
‘Come on,’ said Sam. ‘This is once in a lifetime.’
Leaving his keyboard, Tim followed.
Outside, many people had congregated on the pavements, all of them looking directly upwards. Tim recognised most of them as locals.
No-one seemed to be able to see anything.
High above the equator did not mean high above London. Tim did a quick calculation in his head.
‘Equatorial orbit,’ said Tim to Sam, pointing south.
If the A-Gravs were in an equatorial orbit, then they would be rising above the southern horizon before dipping below again. If the orbit was too low, they wouldn’t be visible due to the curvature of the Earth.
‘Let’s go to the park for a better look,’ said Tim.
‘Suits me,’ said Sam, already setting off in the direction of the park.
Arriving at Mile End Park a few minutes later, Tim was pleased to see he’d made the right call. It afforded a much clearer view of the southern horizon.
A crowd of at least five hundred people had congregated there and were looking southwards. Some were gaping in silence; others were whispering to their neighbours. All looked awestruck.
Sunlight was reflecting strongly off the A-Gravs, illuminating them. The resulting ring of lights rose above the horizon in the south-east, soaring into the sky in a sparkling parabola, before sinking back down below tower blocks in the south-west.
Perhaps it was the calming effect of the nearby soldiers, but the mood in the park was of wonder, rather than fear. Physically separated from each other in orbit by only five kilometres, the A-Gravs appeared to be almost touching, giving the effect of a diamond bracelet encircling the Earth.
‘Ten thousand mariners on their way to petition the gods,’ whispered Sam.
Tim nodded, and in silence, they simply watched.
Fifteen minutes later, Tim noticed Sam shivering. ‘Shall we head back in?’ he asked.
‘No chance,’ said Sam.
‘We can come back later.’
‘Okay.’
Back in the office, the MIDAS feed focusing on the A-Gravs continued to produce updated reports every few minutes.
10,000 units at 2,000 kilometres
Trending words: orbit, bomb, invasion, falling
‘There’s the word “bomb” again,’ said Tim, clicking through to judge its importance.
Click. Scan. Click. Scan.
Nothing obvious.
Tim instructed MIDAS to run the media hype checker. The results came back quickly. There was no hard evidence from any serious agencies that the A-Gravs might be bombs.
How would anyone know?
‘Just got a text from Charlie,’ said Sam. ‘He’s back in London this evening but also checking we’re set for Tuesday. Are we?’
‘All good,’ said Tim. ‘You could ask him what he knows about the A-Gravs.’
‘I’d rather not,’ she said. ‘He’ll just make some stupid excuse not to tell me and I’ll feel hurt.’
‘Fair enough.’
For a few hours, Tim worked on the plan for the data encryption server move. He kept one eye on the news.
At lunchtime, Sam called over. ‘I suspect I’ve overdone it. I need to get back home.’
‘Okay,’ said Tim. ‘I’ll walk you back.’
‘You don’t need to,’ said Sam. ‘I’ve made the journey alone about five hundred times.’
‘It’s fine,’ he said. ‘And then I’ll take the Tube home.’ Tim didn’t want to hang around Sam’s flat if Charlie was due home. He knew that Charlie knew about his feelings for Sam – and he knew that Charlie knew that he knew. Being at Sam’s when Charlie arrived would be weird.
They set off.
Looking southwards between the buildings, Tim continued to get glimpses of the glittering arc of diamonds spread across the sky.
In stable orbit for now…
They arrived at Sam’s flat just in time to catch a public address by the prime minister.
Joshua Timbers stood at the now-familiar lectern in front of Number 10.
‘Firstly, I would like to thank you all – the whole population – for the calm approach with which you are dealing with the ongoing uncertainty. I urge you all to refrain from resorting to anger or violence when faced with difficulties in these trying times. The police and army are deployed to maintain order and to keep the peace. Our only motive, our only strategy, is to keep the innocent safe from the few troubled elements within our society.’
Timbers paused.
‘Secondly, the British government has received short additional messaging from the Ankor. Eighty-six locations, simple grid references, are to be prepared for A-Grav unit installation. We will be implementing procedures to evacuate those locations, with exclusion zones of half a mile. Please be patient and comply with the instructions from local police teams. We will share any additional information that arrives. We have no indication of timing.’
‘What did you think?’ asked Tim.
‘Not a bad speech. A little patronising … but not bad,’ said Sam.
But will it keep the peace?
CHAPTER 15
Tim’s Flat, Sunday 21st April
An alarm woke Tim from deep sleep at 3 o’clock on Sunday morning. A new Ankor broadcast message.
A-Gravs
Each unit has specific instructions
Do not open units
Do not populate the host structures
Do not send anything above 5000km
Tim skipped across the newsfeeds to observe the general reaction. There was little discussion on authenticity; humanity, after only two messages, was used to the way the Ankor easily overpowered Earth’s communications systems.
As the prime minister had said the day before, the UK would be receiving eighty-six of these. Irrespective of whether the UK government broadcast the details, Tim was sure that social media would soon be picking up evidence of the police preparing locations.
For the next hour, he scanned the various channels. One was showing a live feed of the Lincoln sitting on its launch pad.
I assume the Ankor meant you …
Tim searched the internet for theories about whether the Lincoln would be able to reach the Ankor. The results were inconclusive. No shuttle had ever been above one thousand kilometres; the Ankor were at twenty thousand. The main issue was fuel capacity, but it was conceivable the Americans had worked around the problem.
The other discussion that drew Tim’s eye related to the Ankor’s communication strategy. Why were they broadcasting this information to everyone? Theories were mixed, but the two receiving the most support were: ‘to stop governments hiding the information’ and ‘to continue to underline their technological superiority’.
Aware that he had forty-eight hours of seriously hard work in front of him, including a trip to Anglesey, Tim went back to bed.
Some time later, his phone woke him.
‘Why haven’t you replied to my texts?’ asked Sam.
‘Asleep …’ said Tim, rubbing his eyes with his free hand.
‘Remember how the government has been emptying prisons?’
‘Yep.’
‘Last night, the prime minister talked about the A-Grav location preparation.’
‘Yep,’ he said again.
‘Well, they’re setting up an exclusion zone around Kirkmail. I can just about see them from my kitchen window.’
‘Shit!’
‘So, put on some clothes and get over here.’
‘On my way.’
Tim rolled out of bed and pulled on his clothes.
Will Charlie be there?
Tim’s phone buzzed.
Come on – tanks! – big ones with guns … xsam
Failing to see why a heavily armoured presence should be any more reason to rush, or even to go, Tim headed for the Tube.
As he passed the small park at the end of hi
s road, he did a double-take. At seven in the morning, there were people spreading blankets on the ground as if preparing for a picnic.
The park wasn’t full, but it was certainly more than just the few local crazies. It appeared that a fair number of people felt sufficiently relaxed about the Ankor to create an informal ‘alien watch’ vibe.
Tim was jealous.
Watch the universe in wonder … not fear.
A slamming car door drew Tim’s attention away from the park. There was clearly an opposing school of thought: up and down the street, cars were being packed. These people, eyeing the picnickers with disbelief, were getting out of London.
It’ll be worse near Kirkmail.
Tim was right. As he walked out of Mile End Tube station, he noticed two things. On the plus side, law and order was holding; cars weren’t mowing down pedestrians on the pavements. However, the volume of people leaving town was causing gridlock three times as bad as the worst Bank Holiday rush he had ever witnessed.
There was no sign of Charlie when Tim arrived at Sam’s flat. He found her looking over a recent MIDAS report. As Tim had surmised, social media was reporting the preparation of all eighty-six sites across the UK. There were at least ten prisons and the rest were almost exclusively schools.
‘These are the host structures,’ said Sam, overlaying the locations on a map.
‘Is Kirkmail empty?’ asked Tim, straining to look from the kitchen window.
‘I think so.’
For the next hour, they scanned newsfeeds and scientific opinion pieces selected by MIDAS based on peer review scores and citations.
Feeling in need of a caffeine hit, Tim went to the kitchen.
‘Whilst you’re there,’ called Sam, ‘look out of the window.’
Tim leaned out of the window. Far to the south, the string of glittering A-Gravs hung in the sky. This time the eastern edges were brighter, whilst the western ones had yet to be fully illuminated by the Sun.
‘It all looks normal to me,’ said Tim.
‘You’re an expert on orbiting alien artefacts, are you?’ Sam pushed the laptop around so Tim could see the MIDAS report.
~3% units falling under gravity
Each with different north-south velocity vector