Moss shrugged and said, 'It looks like our options are limited. Let's get onboard; I believe we can trust our new friends here.'
Somewhat reluctantly, the group climbed up onto the back of the refuse truck. A couple of the outlaws moved a section of the garbage to reveal a cleared area in the centre of the vehicle. They clambered inside, but Rosalio paused when he saw the limp body of Jelde still hung over Sandpiper's broad shoulders.
'Do you want me to relieve you of that load my friend?' he asked him. 'We could kill her and dump the body with the others. She's a nasty piece of work you know. Nobody would miss her.'
Sandpiper grinned up at their new ally. 'Nah, it's okay mate,' he answered easily. 'My friend here seems to have plans for this one. So we'll take her along for the ride, if it's all the same to you?'
The eco-terrorist raised an eyebrow and shrugged elaborately. 'As you wish my friend…as you wish…’
Miserably huddled together and surrounded by putrid rubbish, the group of fugitives watched as more garbage was piled up in front of them, disguising their hideaway. Satisfied there was no indication of anything unusual about the garbage truck, the eco-terrorists resumed their roles as refuse collectors and eased the vehicle back onto the main street.
They made it just in time, as a fleet of police cars and circling ornithopters suddenly appeared on the scene. Unsurprisingly, the Ottawan law and order forces passed straight by the refuse truck without even bothering to slow down.
The strange collection of fugitives may have been on the verge of passing out from the extreme heat and disgusting smell, but they had at least, slipped the net to fight another day.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Samarcia—Terran calendar year 2057
As baby Arthur slept in a makeshift cradle next to a peaceful looking Aquiline, Jennifer paced worriedly through the corridors of the underground sanctuary. Despite her physical weariness, her mind was still working overtime and she'd found it impossible to sleep. After an hour or so of tossing and turning, she had given up, deciding to spend the time exploring their refuge.
The final bolt-hole for the last human Samarcians bore a remarkable resemblance to the chambers below Stonehenge, back on Earth. Which perhaps wasn't surprising, as both were designed to house interstellar seed-ships like Excalibur. It was from these subterranean chambers that the last hope for the human race left the planet and headed for the far-flung corners of the galaxy, far from the influence of the Starweb AI computers.
Their quarters, which had once been the home for the last Samarcian survivors, were made from the same smooth crystalline material as those she had encountered below Stonehenge. The walls themselves emitted a phosphorescent glow, which illuminated the chambers with a warm, diffused light. Much to her relief and surprise, the various systems, which supplied food, hot water, air, light and heat were still operative, even after millennia of disuse. A small fleet of self-maintaining and duplicating nanobots maintained the refuge. It was thanks to these mindless and undemanding machines, independent as they were of the Starweb, that they were able to eat and rest that evening.
The corridor she followed led to a viewing gallery, which overlooked a vast cavern. Bigger than those which had housed Excalibur on Earth, and Dominator on Dyason, this cathedral, hewn out of the side of a mountain, stretched as far as she could see. Designed to house several vessels, it was from this spot that Excalibur, Dominator and Valvia had set out on their voyages of salvation. The thought occurred to her that the human species today, existed only because of what had happened in this place. If a few Samarcian's hadn't had the foresight to see that their civilisation was doomed, humanity would have ceased to be.
Her eyes drifted to the group of crustaceans and an overseer, lying deactivated in the nearest corner of the cavern. The cloned Nimue had literally switched the Starweb drones off, by inserting a certain code into their bio-electronic minds. It was a trick she had learned her during her time with the computer collective.
As Jennifer looked down on the drones, she watched with surprise as Nimue entered the cavern below. The clone walked up to the motionless crustaceans and stood before them, staring hard at the creatures of the Starweb.
As an operant, and sister of Myrddin, the Nimue who had tried to kill them all on Earth and Dyason had been a malicious, arrogant and dangerously psychotic creature. This cloned version, grown in the acceleration tanks of the Starweb, was an enigma who’s character bore little resemblance to the Nimue that Jennifer loved to hate.
God, what a mess, Jennifer thought to herself. It was only a matter of time before the Samarcian mainframe discovered where they were, and then what? A mother and infant, a teenage girl and an unpredictable clone against the massed might of the Starweb? The odds were stacked impossibly against them! Where was Moss? If ever there was a time when Jennifer needed him, it was now…
She had tried to stand up for herself, God knew she had gathered all her courage to get them this far. But as she stood there alone, looking over the vast emptiness of where the last hope for the human species had left this world, her own hope began to desert her. Many, many times over the past days, Jennifer had extended her sense of perception, roamed the sub-ether with her mind in search of Moss, her husband and father of her child. However, she had found nothing; there was no sign of him anywhere…
How could this be? What catastrophe had overcome Moss? What was happening beyond the walls of solid rock, beyond the atmosphere of Samarcia, on her own distant home-world? Something terrible was happening beyond this artificial Garden of Eden, something that threatened everyone and everything she loved and cared for. It was the uncertainty, the lack of knowledge, which was eating away at her inside.
The more Jennifer thought about it, the more fear gripped her heart. Hope, the one thing that kept her going, was fading fast, taking her last reserves of energy with it.
'There is always hope Jennifer,' the gentle thought entered her mind.
She turned and saw the serene young features of Aquiline. The teenager stepped onto the viewing gallery and passed the sleeping baby Arthur to his mother. Jennifer hugged the infant to her chest and felt his body heat pass through her bosom to her heart, immediately lifting her beleaguered spirits.
'You see?' Aquiline continued. 'So long as baby Arthur is alive, there's always hope. He is the hope for us all. There is a reason for what is taking place here; of that I am sure...'
Jennifer sighed inwardly and replied, 'I seem to have heard that before Aquiline. Yet, I can see no purpose to any of it. There is nothing to indicate a divine plan, or divine intervention. All I can perceive are computerised monsters, created by our own ancestors, intent upon our deaths!
'Yet,' she continued, 'you seem to have access to knowledge that I do not Aquiline. Why don't you tell me, why were we here?'
'I don't know the whole picture Jennifer,' Aquiline responded. 'Only parts of it. Those parts that they let me see.'
'Who are "they"?' Jennifer asked, genuinely interested. Her curiosity was beginning to overcome her inner fears, which was undoubtedly the response Aquiline was looking for.
'Something happened to me when I was in the Starweb's growth tanks back on Heligsion,' the strange teenager replied. 'I saw glimpses; flashes if you like, of the whole picture. These flashes intensified when I returned to Excalibur and it was there that I first met the creature who appears as the mythical Arthur.'
'So who is he really? What is the overall scheme?' Jennifer demanded, sitting on a padded couch whilst her baby slept on in her arms. ‘You’ve never really explained how you came to be here on Samarcia. How did you manage to cross the thousands of light years from Heligsion? Did "they" bring you here?'
'I'm not entirely sure, but he is what the human race could become.' Aquiline tried to explain. 'He, or rather “it”, is a free spirit. By that, I mean his soul wanders the universe in much the same way as our minds can roam the sub-ether. The difference is that it has no need of a physical body. It exists in sp
irit form only.'
Jennifer nodded and thought back, 'the apparition of Arthur told me this. He also spoke of other beings that are afraid of the advancement of the human species. Who, or what, are these beings?'
'Once again, I am aware of only part of the picture,' Aquiline replied, sitting down cross-legged before mother and child. 'However, from what I can tell, there are certain free spirits; for want of a better word, who fear the evolution of the human species to their own status. Which is why the Starweb has been allowed to exist. The sentient computers are the perfect counterbalance to the expansion of human species. Created by our own greed to serve us, the Starweb has in fact, put back the evolution of the human races by countless millennia.'
'But now we pose a threat once more?'
'Exactly,' the teenager confirmed.
'So what are we doing here? What part of the cosmic plan is this?' Jennifer demanded. It made her angry to think that they were nothing but pawns in a cosmic game being played out by beings or spirits who refused to make their presence known.
'Of that I cannot be sure. Except to say that our presence here is important,' the spiritual young woman answered with a distant look in her eyes.
'Do not fear Jennifer,' Aquiline said with firm finality. 'All, will become clear in due course…'
The holo-cam zoomed in on the smooth features of Lord Steel, head of the North Atlantic Petroleum Company. Sitting in the central London studio of Triplanetary Broadcasting, the make-up artist and hairdresser had done a very professional job of making the British hereditary aristocrat appear confident and debonair.
The floor manager silently counted down the last five seconds on his hand and the broadcast began. Simultaneously transmitted via the new sub-ether communication satellites, the digital holographic broadcast was costing the equivalent of a medium sized country's welfare budget. Only the combined muscle of Earth's largest multi-nationals could raise the finances for such a blatant piece of politicking. Only the twelve members of the three worlds most exclusive industrialists club, could exert sufficient influence to force the social media giants to live-stream the event.
'Ladies and Gentlemen,' Lord Steel began smoothly, looking into the camera and reading the auto-cue like a veteran newsreader. 'I speak to you today as a representative of the international, indeed interstellar, companies who have striven in recent years to rebuild our devastated civilisations. Until this moment we have stood on the sidelines as the United Nations have dictated to us all how we should rebuild not just Earth, but the worlds of our new brethren, Dyason and Heligsion. Never before have we questioned the authority, or the ability, of the United Nations president and his ministers; but then Earth has never faced the prospect of global civil war before.
'Tonight however, we do question their authority!' Lord Steel paused dramatically, staring hard into the holographic camera, stamping his will on the billions of viewers across the three worlds. 'No longer can we sit idly by and watch as the hard work and sacrifice by the many, is destroyed by the greed of the few!'
Images of the debacle in the South American rainforest were retransmitted. As Masorak agents appeared to randomly butcher the young members of Triplanetary Church, Lord Steel continued his practiced dialog.
'Like all of you, I have been sickened by the images of innocent young men and woman being mercilessly slaughtered by agents of the United Nations Secret Service. This agency, born at a time of hostility between our worlds, is accountable to nobody! They vividly displayed to us all, their complete contempt for justice and the law, on that bloody day!'
Taking a deep breath and apparently showing heartfelt emotion, Steel implored to his interstellar audience, 'Let me ask you all, what right did they have to murder those people? What possible threat was so great that Masorak were given the authority to act as judge, jury and executioner? If they were given any authority at all, who sanctioned their actions—president Gafton? Could it be that this man; a dinosaur from an age of violence, gave Masorak the order to butcher innocent people from his hospital bed? Was it the act of a dying man?'
The recorded images of that fateful day faded and the camera closed in on the British Lord's aristocratic features.
'You may ask yourself, how do I dare to make such accusations?' he continued with fervor. 'I dare, because I perceive them to be the truth! The Terran world government is rotten at the core, run as it is by people who have learned to love power for powers sake!'
'Our young are demonstrating on the streets of virtually every town and city on the planet. They battle with local police forces, because they cannot reach the ministers in their ivory towers; politicians and bureaucrats who live off the fat of their corruption. I have to say, and I believe the majority of you will agree, that it is very difficult to condemn these demonstrations. After all, their frustration is understandable, their intentions honorable!'
Steel sighed theatrically and shook his head.
'But what, I hear you ask, can any of us do about this crazy situation? Well, I'll tell you my friends! You can use your social media account to contact the Earth Senate. Tell them how you feel. Demand from them that something is done, before our society is split asunder by a civil war that will be the demise of civilisation!
'We're told that the evil hordes of the Starweb are massing on our borders ready to invade our homes and kill us all,' he said with a cynical expression set on his arrogant features.
'Well, I don't know if I believe this to be true. Nevertheless, even if it is, can we really trust our fragile peace to a group of old warmongers? How can we be sure that the aggressive stance of the United Nations hasn't forced the Starweb collective to act against us? Has Gafton's government ever attempted to find a diplomatic solution? Did they ever want one?'
His expression changed to earnest sincerity and he smoothly began to deliver the real message of the transmission.
'The time has come, my friends, to throw off the shackles the United Nations has placed upon all our lives. It is time for a fresh start. It is time for those who really have the interests of our civilisation at heart, to take the reins of government!
'I promise you now, that I shall not rest until the rotten core at the heart of our society has been cut out! I promise you that the full weight of Earth's major corporations will be placed to bear against the corrupt and perverse. We shall not rest until a democratic government has been put in power. That is my promise to you! All I ask is that you give democracy and us your support!
Thank you my friends, and goodnight…'
It was a private ward, part of the Resistance Memorial Hospital complex built just after the Dyason wars, in Auckland, New Zealand. The security surrounding the small room and it's sole occupant was intense. Surveillance cameras and medical probes monitored the status of the patient twenty-four hours a day. The president's personal guard stood only a few metres away from James Gafton's ailing body, ensuring nobody except medical staff entered the single bed ward.
The president had been in a deep coma ever since his cardiac arrest in the senate chambers, just over a week ago. Unable to revive him, Doctors were at a loss to explain why a relatively young, physically fit man such as James Gafton should suddenly suffer from such a severe cardiac arrest. Nor why he should have slipped into a state from which they were unable to revive him. Any conspiracy theory, based upon the supposition that there were certain people who wished to see the president dead and out of the way, was unsupported by any sort of evidence. Which left the doctors speculating that the only possible cause was severe stress bought on by his position as leader of Earth's many nations.
'When you see them like this, it makes you realise what pathetic creatures humans are,' Bishop Dydnski commented from the end of the bed. He looked at the numerous tubes and wires connected to the pale, unconscious body and shook his head. 'It's hard to imagine them as a threat to the whole universe.'
'It's not their physical bodies which pose a threat,' a dour faced Miss Smith replied from the other si
de of the bed. 'It's their minds and what they might do with them that is dangerous. Their souls are dark and corrupt; you should know that...'
Dydnski sighed, his vast barrel-like chest rising and falling in the process.
'Oh, I understand the concerns or our employers all right,' he answered in a tone that contained a hint of regret. 'The universe has to have order.. God demands that the rules be obeyed, and it is clear that the human species is unable to maintain any sort of order, or obey even the most basic of commandments, etc….etc. Yet, I cannot help but feel some regret at what we are doing to them. When you realise just how frail their bodies are, one cannot help but admire their achievements, no matter how violent their methods.'
The agent provocateur turned to look at the tall flame-haired giant. Her face was one of contempt.
'I shall have to speak to the council about your attitude,' she told him firmly. 'It seems to me that you have been spending too much time in the presence of these creatures. You're beginning to talk and think like them; that's a dangerous thing to do.'
The head of Triplanetary Church barked a short, contemptuous laugh.
'Hah! Don't be so fast to condemn me my girl!' he snapped back. 'It is my very ability to empathize with this species that has brought us so much success this time. The programming I received in the clone tanks, included my ability to think and behave like a human being. Without that skill, our project would have undoubtedly failed. After all, how many times in the past, in our various incarnations, have we attempted to disrupt the advancement of the people on this backwater planet?'
Miss Smith didn’t answer, returning her gaze to the unconscious form of the president. She gazed at the man's chest as it rose and fell autonomously.
'Your lack of response would indicate that you agree with me. Doesn't it seem strange to you that it is only now, that we should finally succeed?'
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