Recalling Destiny

by Michael Blinkhoff

  “Ok.”

  “Oh, and one more thing Ms Conley. We meet once a day, at midday. Wherever or whatever is going on please remember this rule. We do not wish to be bothered outside of this time, at all. You have complete responsibility on the floor, we only meet at midday to discuss matters. Is that understood?”

  She tried to protest more but Samuel seemed to be spent on conversation with her, he repeatedly checked his watch during their short time together and Catlin found herself wondering what he was late for. Surely his main priority would be to train the new Head of Destiny operations? But she brushed the thought aside as she realised she knew very little of what Samuel did.

  Their meeting seemingly over, they moved over to the mezzanine railing where Samuel called out for attention. It took all of about thirty seconds for the entire staff at Destiny to come to order on the floor and wait. Catlin was surprised at the level of conformity shown, clearly Ma’am did have them well trained.

  Samuel spoke briefly of the incident and the responsibility they all had to ascertain the reason for its occurrence. He spoke of rebuilding, protecting the facility and finding the traitor Ma’am. Finally, he delivered a very succinct speech about Catlin.

  “Ms Conley will be taking full control of Ma’am’s previous role. We expect department heads to fill in the blanks of Ms Conley’s training and give her full support. Whatever decision she makes is final, she has absolute power of authority.” He paused before delivering his final statement.

  “Make sure you give her your support, or you will hear from us.” The look in his eyes more than conveyed his message, he meant Cat to rule and if there were any complications he was prepared to remove it.

  “Oh, and one final thing … you shall now refer to her as Ms.” he paused where he stood and held the gaze of the crowd, he did not repeat himself, he knew they listened.

  He turned to Catlin. “Ms,” he spoke loud enough, with a sort of pompous air to his voice. “They are all yours.”

  - -

  Harrison

  It’s been a surreal experience for the team, Truck has just re-entered the apartment carrying a man slung over his shoulder. A man, as it turns out, who happens to be a mercenary for Destiny and also the same man Truck and Pigeon pursued for years.

  Now he’s their captive, tied up and placed into one of the rooms.

  None of them had any experience in dealing with a hostage before, but Truck, as a former soldier, took the task upon himself to interrogate the Viper.

  But within an hour of holding him captive, the world suffered a catastrophic event, a massive loss of life taking place around them. Harrison had been the first to speak up, claiming he could feel something was about to happen.

  He instinctively moved to the apartment windows and within seconds people began to drop in the city streets below. Seconds later all manner of loud noises alerted the others, who came and joined Harrison by the window.

  It was like watching an internet stream of catastrophies, all grouped into one scene. Buses, cars, bikes and boats all colliding, drivers having dropped dead on the spot.

  The worst they saw was an airliner come crashing out of the sky, right into a building less than a kilometre away. A great red halo adorned the sky where it fell, the rest became shrouded in smoke as the city began to burn.

  With nothing to see they’d switched the television on, trying to find any news telecasts, but it was to no avail, all media had ceased transmitting. Harrison grabbed his laptop and tried in vain to find something online.

  But online media had ceased operating too.

  They quickly discussed their predicament and decided to stay put, the fires were raging north of their building and were not likely to cause harm. And moving in amongst the smoke haze seemed an impossibility.

  Moments later the television roared back to life, the A.B.C becoming the first television station to become operational, but severely reduced in ability. They’d quickly setup a national emergency broadcast system, its core purpose to inform people on information about a crisis currently taking place.

  They were reporting that across the country millions of people had simply dropped where they’d stood for no apparent reason. Australia, it seemed, was not the only place this had occurred either, strangely enough it had been happening all around the world at the same time.

  Mass deaths across the globe.

  When they saw the first broadcast, Truck left the building immediately and alone, stating things were going to get bad and he needed to get supplies. None of the team paid him much heed, their captive was locked away in Pigeon’s old bedroom and they were all glued to the television screen.

  The death toll mounted, seventy million, a hundred million, almost every report the number seemed to increase.

  The three of them remained, two sat in the living room watching the emergency broadcast, which was showing footage of massive fires spreading across the major metropolitan areas. Harrison spent a lot of this time looking out the window, watching, despite the cover of smoke cloud obscuring everything from view.

  The other two asked what he was looking at, but he didn’t respond, seemingly lost in a world of his own.

  After a few hours Truck returned, heavily laden with goods, which he claimed should give them sufficient supplies to last at least a week. Given the news reports of violence and crime escalating on the streets the team agreed it was best for them to lay low in the apartment until some sort of order had been restored. It would also give them a chance to interrogate their hostage.

  But after three days locked in the apartment things had not changed, the streets had become increasingly dangerous as fires still burnt. Street gangs also formed, who roamed the streets loudly in search of who knows what. They watched from above for days, witnessing fires burning lower and eventually witnessing the army mobilizing inside the city, trying to restore order.

  Thankfully their apartment, one of the few left standing in the city, remained unharmed and they were locked away inside safely. During this time, Truck and Harrison shared a very brief moment together, a moment in which they discussed what had happened in his absence.

  “Don’t really know Truck, it’s like I stepped outside of myself and into another plain, another existence.”

  “Well how do you feel now? You look normal …”

  Normal was far from what Harrison felt like, ever since he’d seen Smith in the alleyway that day he hadn’t felt like himself, almost as if Smith had something to do with it.

  He used to think all the time, rationalise thoughts and ideas inside his head, no matter how wild the idea was. But of late he’d struggled, since surviving he felt even stranger. He fought inside his own head, struggling to control ther thoughts that bubbled around inside his mind. Of course, being couped up in the apartment did nothing to calm him.

  Inside he felt he was starting to fall apart, almost as if he was losing himself.

  The worst part of having to stay inside though, was the smell. The stench from the streets started to creep in through their windows, the odour of thousands of rotting corpses wafting through the air. Millions of bodies had dropped dead on the spot in the city, fire had blackened some, others remained untouched. Nobody had come to clean them up and the smell was everywhere, permeating the very air around Melbourne.

  A veritable air made up of death.

  The team had tried stuffing the windows at first, then opening them second. But no attempts to stop the stench coming in yielded any result. The best they came up with was burning incense round the clock to stop from gagging, to stop breathing in death.

  Eventually the emergency news station broadcast the army had been mobilized and was now trying to re-establish order in certain places around the city. Their main base was at St Kilda, where temporary housing and emergency resources were being made available to the public.

  Th
ey were calling for people in need, volunteers, resources and anything else that could help them rebuild after the event. People were instructed to make it to one of these bases. They were calling for all survivors to make their way their immediately.

  Despite the advice, the team had chosen to remain put, trying to get information out of the Viper. But he hadn’t given them anything, nothing useful they could use to find out about the device’s location or Destiny’s operation.

  They soon realised the Viper was more than a match physically for whatever they could throw at him. He hadn’t relented anything bar his name, which as it turned out was only his codename. Truck had come out exasperated from the room one morning claiming that no man could take beating like that, Truck was surprised he was unable to get answers.

  Now the team sat as a group, in a circle sitting and facing each other in the apartment’s kitchen dining area, trying to decide what to do next. They had no device and no information from their captive after days, they were stuck.

  Now they sit in silent contemplation.

  The looks on their faces are grave and none of them have the courage to look the other in the eye. They avert each other’s gazes because they’re afraid of what they’ll find there, of what they’ll have to do next.

  They sit there solemnly pondering the issue of what to do with their captive. All except Truck, he knows exactly what he wants to do with him.

  As the Viper has not given them any information, they no longer have use of him, and so the question is put on the table of what to do with him. Suni says they can’t exactly free him, which only leaves one course of action open as far as she’s concerned.

  Harrison suggests letting him go and then tailing him, in the hope he’ll lead them back to Destiny. But Truck quickly dismisses the idea, stating the Viper would know they were up to something if they just let him go.

  A buzz comes from the apartment’s intercom that snaps them out of their silent vigil. Truck quickly shoots a questioning look towards Suni. When she replies with a look suggesting she doesn’t know who’s at the door, Truck stands from his chair hastily, moves towards the door and keys the button on the intercom. Nobody’s disturbed them since they’ve been here, so this is a surprise.

  “Who is it?” he asks as he removes a revolver from the small of his back.

  “Aaah, I have a delivery,” comes the reply.

  “Delivery, for who?” He looks back at the group, confused as to why someone would be delivering something to them in the middle of an apocalypse.

  “Look outside champ, delivery companies aren’t working anymore, who are you?” Truck speaks again into the speaker.

  “Aaah, I have a package ... a delivery,” comes an uncertain reply.

  “You got the wrong place buddy. Piss off!” Truck spits back.

  “Aaah, sir is this 28a?”

  “Who’s it for?”

  “I have a package for Solo, Apartment 28a.”

  Truck looks confused, as does Suni at the mention of the name, as neither of them know who or what it is.

  Harrison stands straight away. “That’s me, that’s for me!” and with the excitement of a child at Christmas he bounds toward the door, only to be stopped by Truck’s outstretched hand.

  “Harrison?”

  “What?”

  “Suni?” Truck asks.

  “This doesn’t sound right, why would anyone deliver something to us in the middle of the apocalypse?” Suni asks.

  “Aah, hello?” The buzzer sounds again.

  “Take a walk dipshit.” Truck replies through the speaker.

  “Look, I have a package for a Han Solo, 28a. Are you going to take it or not?”

  “Who’s it from?” Truck asks.

  “Chewbacca, it’s from Chewbacca.”

  “Who the hell is Chew …”

  “…bacca.” Harrison finishes for him. “Star Wars?”

  “Who is Chewbacca?” Truck calls into the microphone.

  “That’s the guy who it’s from,” the delivery guy calls back. “Well that’s what he told me his name was anyway.”

  Everyone’s head turns at the mention of the name, none of them expecting to hear it. Truck is the first to respond though.

  “Leave it at the door and piss off champ.”

  “I can’t mate, this guy paid me to deliver it to the apartment, so I can’t leave it here.”

  “Who?”

  “Huh?”

  “Who paid you?”

  “Some pretty boy, Chewbacca, smelt like perfume. He said he’d know if I didn’t drop it right to your door.”

  “It’s for me …” Harrison cut in.

  “How can you be sure?” Suni asks.

  He smiles at her, “Chewbacca …” he looks up at them. “Smith, he had this ...”

  “He what?”

  “He had this thing in his pocket and ... urgh!!!” Harrison snorts. “It’s ok, I promise,” he assures everybody.

  The others look dubiously at Harrison after his explanation, but considering how confident he seems Suni agrees, giving Truck a nod. He hurriedly presses the button on the intercom to unlock the door downstairs and takes a step back from the door.

  “No … no opening doors for you,” Truck says, pushing Harrison away to the side as he goes for the door. Harrison abides and Truck, ever precautious, holds the revolver at the ready.

  Truck opens the door to a rather disinterested looking young Asian kid dressed in a tank top and jeans, who stands there waiting. “Here.” He hands a small box over to Truck.

  The delivery kid wastes no more time, hands over the package and says a quick thankyou before turning and leaving.

  “Oh what is it, let me see!” Harrison calls, jumping at Truck’s heels.

  The look on Harrison’s face when he closes the door and turns around causes Truck to involuntarily smile, being around such a happy smiling kid is infectious.

  “Truck, careful with that, we don’t know where it came from.” Suni comes over to inspect the package for herself.

  He carefully places it on the dining table and before Truck and Suni can make up their mind what to do with it Harrison grabs it and starts to open it.

  “Harrison!” They both scream, reaching to stop him.

  He stops, puts up his finger and looks at them both with a knowing smile on his face. “Do you both trust me?”

  “Harrison!”

  “Please, just answer the question,” He looks at them in tandem. “Do you both trust me?”

  Truck and Suni both look each other in the eye, in consultation, eventually Suni shrugs her shoulders, they break eye contact and reply in unison. “Of course we do.”

  He tore into the package.

  At first it looked as if he knew what he was doing, but as he unwraps the package a look of confusion begins to grow on his face. He hastily removes the plastic covering to reveal it contains another cardboard box, about half the size of a regular shoe box.

  Harrison discards it to reveal a small black box inside, plain in nature but not something anyone has ever seen before, for it did not exist in human technology. Harrison looks at it with interest, grabbing it in his hands and holding it up to the light to inspect.

  It’s a perfectly symmetrical black box, no marks and no visible sign of a means of opening it.

  “Oh my god!” Suni exclaims, as she sees him pull it out from the box.

  “What is it?” Harrison asks, looking it over curiously.

  “Oh my god, oh you have no idea how …” a wave of relief washes over Suni, “… long I’ve been waiting for this, how hard, how ...” Her relief turns to euphoria.

  Truck cuts her off. “What is it Suni?” grabbing it from Harrison and looking at it for himself.

  “Oh, oh, oh!” she bellows out like it is Christmas. “This her
e my boys is what we’ve been looking for all these years, this is the game changer!” She takes it from a bewildered looking Truck and eyes it over reverently.

  “The device?” He asks as she takes it from him. “That’s the device?”

  She nods to confirm it. “Oh my! Destiny it seems has finally found me.”

  Doc, who up until now has been quiet, pipes up once he realises what’s going on. “Suni, are you sure?”

  “Absolutely, there could be nothing else like it.” Now she’s the one who holds it up to the light to see.

  “It doesn’t even look like anything.”

  “Trust me, the technology in this little bad boy is unbelievable.”

  “So how did it end up here?” Doc asks.

  The question catches her by surprise, she’s so enveloped in the joy of having it in her grasp that she hasn’t wondered where it’s come from. She’s spent years of her life tracking it down, losing it on a couple of occasions, one very recently, and now it’s here. But Doc was right, how did it just fall into their laps.

  “I have no idea,” she answers, now a little startled.

  “And Harrison, how did you know the package was for you?” asks Doc.

  “Smith. When we first came out of the sea he had this phone that rang. He checks his pockets and pulls this phone, he answers and speaks to some guy.”

  “He was acting all weird and stuff and, anyway, I asked him to check his pockets to see if he had anything else in them. Smith pulls out this tiny Chewbacca figurine out of his pocket.”

  “What’s that?”

  “It’s a character, you know, Chewbacca.”

  They all stare at him blankly.

  “From Star Wars!”

  Again, they look at him not knowing what he’s talking about, so he promptly runs into his room to retrieve a poster from the wall.

  “I knew it must be from him.” He surmises, holding the poster up for them all. “No way could it be a coincidence that my alias was Han Solo and Smith carried a Chewbacca in his pocket.”

  “It was a sign,” he marvels, pointing at the two characters on the poster. “Han Solo doesn’t go anywhere without Chewbacca.”