'So let me get this right,' Sandpiper said to Jenson in a questioning voice, gazing out at the dormant starships. 'These are the original Excalibur, Dominator and Valvia?'
'Apparently,' Jenson confirmed.
'And we're looking at them now in their original state, before they've been launched to seed other planets?'
'So I'm told.'
'And they'll go to a virgin Earth, Dyason and Heligsion, seed them with our evolutionary ancestors, then bury themselves for a few millennia?'
'Looks that way.'
'Then they'll just hang around whilst mankind develops all over again; watch as civilisations rise and fall, then come back to life when we dig them up?'
'So they tell me.'
'Well, I'll be buggered!'
''Of course a lot of things will happen in between that time, but it does answer a few questions,' Jenson added thoughtfully, turning to look at his side-kick.
'What sort of questions?' the stocky pilot asked in return.
'Dinosaurs for one.'
'Dinosaurs?'
'Yeah, dinosaurs! Think back to your school days Han, and consider the sudden disappearance of the giant reptiles, which once ruled Earth. Almost overnight they became extinct and the Terran version of the human species began its evolutionary cycle.'
'All of which happened just after the arrival of Excalibur in the Solar system?'
'You got it,' Jenson confirmed. 'Bit of a coincidence ain't it?'
'I'd agree with you there, mate.'
'And, I've always been amazed at the rapport between Moss and Excalibur. I mean, how did the ship know what to expect when we first found the ship under Stonehenge? How come it knew all about Moss and what the lad would become?'
'Well, it's obvious isn't it?' Sandpiper replied after pausing to think. 'Moss and Excalibur meet here, in ancient Samarcia first. Then the ship encounters the young Moss, sometime in the distant future. It's a space-time anomaly thingy…ain't it?'
'Something like that Han,' Jenson confirmed agreeably. 'I haven't quite been able to get my head around the cause and effect of us being here in this space-time, but I know this much; what we've been doing here is laying the foundations for the future space-time. If we hadn't come to this space-time, our own space-time may well cease to exist…I think.'
'Well I'll be buggered!' Sandpiper repeated, shaking his head. 'It's all a bit complicated ain't it?'
'Sure is Han…it sure is!'
Inspector Jelde sat on the edge of the bunk watching the news-web, her depression deepening. Her own world had literally fallen apart in the past week and now it seemed as if the whole Samarcian commonwealth was falling apart with it. She just couldn't believe it.
Although her wrist restraints had been removed and she was able to get up and move around the small, but comfortable quarters, Jelde was unable to leave the chambers. She was basically a prisoner of the Eco-Terrorists. Until they decided her fate, there was nothing to do but watch the news and contemplate what was happening to her and the world she once knew.
In the short time since she had left her office, there had been more incidents involving rogue machinery. Contact had now been lost with Extremity Station, and the news-web were talking of machines failing to respond in factories and cities on a dozen worlds. For some inexplicable reason, it seemed as if the very computers, which kept the Samarcian Commonwealth moving, upon which they all relied for their very lives, were turning upon those that had created them.
Then of course, there were the three massive starships she had glimpsed in the main underground cavern, and the intruders who had abducted her and rescued the survivors of the Shanoa. All these things matched up with the bizarre story the crew and passengers of that alien vessel had testified to, even under torture. Jelde was a realist and a cynic, whose drive in life was money and power; she certainly wasn't the type to follow flights of fancy. However, the evidence was now overwhelming, and she found herself having to accept the unacceptable. The Starweb Corporation had indeed created a breed of sentient super-computers, which were turning on their creators.
If there was no way to change the course of events, then the world beyond the sheer rock walls of her cell was doomed. It was ironic, just as she had gained wealth beyond her dreams, Samarcian credits were about to become worthless…
One wall of the apartment became translucent then disappeared, and the inspector found herself staring at the grim face of brother Dakol. Without bothering to ask, he stepped into the chamber and the wall solidified behind him.
'What do you want?' she sighed, not bothering to get up. 'Come to gloat have you old man?'
'We need to talk,' Dakol told her, staring hard into her eyes, his voice flint-hard.
'So talk away. I seem to have a lot of time on my hands at the moment,' she hissed in reply.
The Dyason monk glanced at the holographic monitor showing the reports from the News-web.
'It's beginning to happen isn't it?' he said as a statement of fact. 'The machines have become sentient and are beginning to run amok. In a few short months they'll have completed their genocide. Everyone will be dead!'
'I'm sure the knowledge that you're right gives you great satisfaction,' Jelde retorted, looking up at the man she had so recently tried to have terminated. 'You'll excuse me though, if I don't share your pleasure. I've got a fortune in credits out there and I can't spend any of them. Life suddenly appears to be quite dull.'
'Why did you do it? Why did you have them all killed?' Dakol demanded, sitting down at a small table opposite the Samarcian woman. 'If you'd only believed what we were telling you, all this could have been avoided. It wasn’t too late to change the future…'
Jelde gave out a short harsh bark, 'Don’t be a fool monk! It was too late from the moment your ship arrived! The very fact that you stand here before me means that the time-line is assured. The Starweb Corporation has fracked up big-time and the result is the space-time you come from—nothing can stop that now! Don't you think I've had long enough to sit and think this through?'
'We could warn people! Let them know what is really happening…'
'It would achieve nothing. Don't be so naive Dakol! You've been here on Samarcia long enough now to realise that interplanetary corporations and commerce are the rulers. Do you really think anybody would let you live long enough to tell your story? Or let Felke file the scoop he is so desperate to discover?
'There are billions of credits at stake here and the Starweb Corporation will do everything it can to hide the fact that they have created monsters intent on our own demise. The whole truth will be suppressed right up to the day they all die! Why do you think your friends were all killed? Who do you think really sanctioned their deaths? Surely, you don't think I was acting alone?'
Dakol turned away and stared at the holographic images floating in the centre of the chamber.
'I considered it, yes—but I never believed the greed of commerce could be so powerful,' he paused thoughtfully for a moment, then turned to stare at her once more, snapping, 'But it was still you who gave the order! You signed their death warrants!'
'If I hadn't given the order somebody else would have,' she said wearily. 'You…me…all of us, have been doomed all along. Who's signature is on the dotted line is irrelevant…'
'It matters to me!' Dakol shouted back, his lips curled back in a snarl. 'I promised to avenge the deaths of those you had killed and I promised to avenge those you tortured; beginning with Canderal. Your goons raped and tortured that poor child over and over again!'
For the first time, the woman who had once considered herself immune to the suffering of others, felt a pang of guilt. During their uncomfortable time in transit from Ottawan to the mountain hideaway, she had seen the scars, welts and bruises on the teenage girl. Jelde had also seen the way the girl looked at her; it was a look of sheer hate. The Samarcian inspector had never been forced to face one of her victims before, she'd always ordered somebody else to do the dirty work. Now, alt
hough she would never admit it to anybody, Jelde was having to face the consequences of her actions and the truth was; it frightened her.
'That was unfortunate…' she said uncomfortably, 'I didn't order that to happen…'
‘Unfortunate… Unfortunate! That’s all you have to say?’ Dakol screamed.
Having worked himself up into a rage, Dakol could contain himself no longer. The wiry monk, aged beyond his years by his recent experiences, but still muscular, launched himself at the Samarcian woman. His fingers were outstretched like talons and tossing the small table aside, he leapt forward and clawed at her eyes.
Caught off-guard, Jelde found herself desperately fending off the enraged man, who's heavier weight and adrenaline-powered attack were more than a match for her. When the monk's hands reached around her neck and began to squeeze hard, she could feel her life slipping away. She fought back, pounding at his arms and face, desperately trying to break the death grip, but nothing she tried worked. It was as if all the monk's years of suppressed anger were being entirely focused upon her.
In a last act of desperation, Jelde looked for some way to throw off her attacker—something, anything. She found the weapon she needed within her own mind. Suppressed within her head was a talent, a very rare talent, but a powerful one nonetheless. The stranger called Moss had hinted at her ability, and she had been considering his words ever since. However, it had taken a violent act to bring her latent talent to the fore.
Gathering her will about her, Jelde concentrated her mind, pushed on his chest, and released a mental bolt that was devastating in its effectiveness and intensity. Brother Dakol's beating heart was the focus for that gathered energy, and devoid of any sort of mental defence, the searing lance sliced through the cardiovascular muscles.
His eyes went wide, bulging sickeningly, and every muscle in his body convulsed. His hands came away from the Samarcian woman's neck and with a face contorted in agony, the monk rolled onto the stone floor of the chamber. Dakol gurgled, his lips drawn back in a horrific death-grin and his pained eyes locked onto Jelde.
She immediately ceased the deadly mental attack, but for the Dyason monk it was too late, the damage had already been done. Spasms ran through his body for a few seconds more, then stopped. Gasping and wheezing she shuffled up against the wall, keeping as much distance from the horrific scene as possible.
The far wall became transparent and alerted by the commotion, Moss stepped into the cell, followed closely by Lollo Rosalio and a couple of his eco-warriors. The teenage girl Canderal dashed passed him, screamed at the sight of the monk and collapsed beside his limp body. The tall, exotic looking man looked down at what she had done, then stared at her with impenetrable, angry eyes.
'He…he…was trying to kill me!' she whispered hoarsely, her hands massaging her bruised neck. 'I had no choice…I didn't mean to do it!'
The teenage girl suddenly looked up at her shouting, 'Murdering bitch! Fracking murderer! You're nothing but a killer! Why? Why do you destroy everything you touch?'
Jelde winced at the angry words of Canderal, her heart pounding in her chest, her emotions in complete turmoil. She hadn't meant to hurt him, it had all been an accident! He had tried to kill her! Couldn't they see that?
For the first time in her adult life, the Samarcian woman was at a loss to know what to say, or do. She was overcome with a terrible sense of failure. Her eyes filled with tears and she began to sob uncontrollably.
Moss stepped over to the collapsed monk, placed two fingers against the side of his neck, whilst simultaneously gently probing his mind. ‘He’s alive, but barely…. ‘ Moss announced. ‘His pulse is faint and rapid. His mind withdrawn, and comatose.’
‘We’ll get him to the medilab’, Lollo Rosalio responded. ‘The equipment there is second to none. He may yet survive…’
Moss nodded and stepped aside as a paramedic team arrived on the scene with a stretcher and medical-scanners. He gave Jelde one last withering stare, then angrily left the scene.
As the unconscious Dakol was wheeled towards the medilab, nobody thought twice when the journalist De Felke reached out to sympathetically touch the monks limp body. Nobody noticed the slight of hand, which left a tiny device attached to the monk’s lower back.
'Where're you going friend?' the eco-terrorist inquired of De Felke, as he stepped into the elevator which lead to the surface of the mountain, hundreds of metres above.
The News-web journalist smiled easily and answered, 'I'm afraid I'm not as hardened as the rest of you people. I tend to get claustrophobic. The thought of millions of tons of rock bearing down upon us, gives me the nightmares. I was planning on getting me some fresh night air before I go mad!'
The technician, who was one of the team working on the three starships, looked warily at the journalist.
'There's no need to concern yourself about the roof collapsing, my friend,' the technician responded sizing the journalist up. 'These caverns are designed to withstand the impact of multiple nuclear strikes. It would take a planet crusher to destroy this place, and I hardly think they're going to blow up the whole of Samarcia just to get at us.'
'Thanks for telling me,' De Felke said pleasantly. 'It helps to know that, but I could still do with he fresh air. Tell you what, why don't you come with me? I've got a flask of spirit here which will keep out the chill, we could share it.'
The technician looked at him, thought for a moment, then nodded. He didn't really trust the journalist and by going with him, he could keep an eye on him. Besides, it'd been a long day and a snifter of spirit before bed wouldn't go amiss.
'Okay,' he agreed cautiously and stepped into the elevator.
The elevator accelerated and rose to the surface in a matter of seconds. There it exited into a disused observatory sited very near the top of the mountain. The carefully camouflaged lift doors closed behind them and with the aid of two electric lanterns the journalist and technician made their way around the derelict equipment.
'This place was built a couple of centuries ago, when traveling to the stars was just a dream,' the tech' told De Felke nostalgically. He gently caressed the corroded mass that was once a telescope. 'They used optical instruments and the most basic electronics to scan the heavens for signs of intelligent life.'
'And found none, I suppose,' the journalist added thoughtfully. 'It's always struck me as strange that in a galaxy as big as our own, we should be the only intelligent species.'
'Intelligence is a relative thing,' the technician replied testily. 'But you're right in what you say about the lack of "intelligent" alien life. It does seem strange that even now, after traveling to thousands of star systems, we've never encountered another sentient race. Maybe the timing's never been right…'
De Felke shivered and pulled his hip flask out of a back pocket. He stepped out of the derelict building and breathed in lung-fulls of the cold night air. Then he took a long draw from the flask.
'Here, take a draught,' he offered companionably to his escort. 'It'll keep the chill out.'
The technician took hold of the flask and raised it to his lips. He lifted his head back to let the strong spirit slip down his throat, but the burning sensation he then felt came not from the alcohol, but from the thin blade which pierced his heart. The flask fell out of his hand, clattering onto the stony ground and a bloody gurgle escaped from his lips.
De Felke gave the blade a viscous twist to finish the unfortunate man off, then pulling his knife clear, he eased the technicians still warm corpse to the ground. Picking up the flask, and wiping the blade clean before putting it away, he then grabbed the body by the feet and hauled it to a nearby precipice. Without regret or ceremony, the News-web journalist pushed the corpse over the edge and listened to it strike the rocks far below.
'Sorry mate,' he whispered into the darkness, 'but I've got a story to file and nobody's going to stop me from doing my job!'
Out of the folds of his overcoat, he pulled out his palm-top computer and init
iated it. The touchscreen lit up and beeped appropriately. He tapped in his code for the satellite link and aimed the machine toward the approximate position of the nearest web-comm pick up. De Felke grunted in satisfaction when his uploading link was confirmed.
'Stop! Put that thing down and turn around!' a familiar voice said from behind him.
De Felke turned about, peered into the gloom at the approaching figure and said, 'What do you think you're playing at, scaring the shit of me like that Qbec? I could've dropped this thing over the edge and all our hard work would have been for naught! And why the hell are you following me?'
'I'm deadly serious!' the journalist's assistant told him bluntly. As she came nearer, De Felke could just make out by the light of the stars, the small automatic she held in her hand. 'You can't file that story! Now put the palm-top down and step away from it.'
'What? Are you mad?' the veteran news-hound exclaimed. 'This is the biggest story in the history of Samarcia; of course it has to be filed! Regardless of what might happen in the future, our place in history will be secured! Now stop being so fracking stupid woman!'
He looked down at his miniature web-link and began tapping at the tiny keys once more.
'I'm warning you one last time De-Felke,' Qbec said dangerously, the muzzle of her automatic held unwavering, scant centimetres from his face. 'You can't file that story!'
'Why the hell not, you stupid bitch?'
'Because you'll release the location of this site and tell everyone what they're doing here!'
'Of course I'm gonna tell them everything,' De Felke retorted angrily. 'It wouldn't be much of a sodding scoop otherwise, would it?'
'That's the whole point, can't you see?' Qbec snapped back. 'Those starships being prepared in the caverns below are the human race's last hope. If they aren't launched on schedule the future will never happen. The Starweb Corporation's monster will devour us all and there will be no hope, no future; ever!'
'You don't know that Qbec,' the News-web journalist shouted angrily, his voice echoing across the mountainside. 'How do you know the future is already defined? If I file my story, every living soul in the Samarcian commonwealth will know about the Starweb Corporation and what they've done. Don't you see that's our last chance? Once the story is out, they'll have no choice but to stop production of those damned machines! The eco-terrorists will have won without even having to finish those brutes below!'
Starweb Page 25