Alien Storm

by A. G. Taylor

  Alex looked at her incredulously. What, in this wasteland? In case you hadn’t noticed, there’s nothing out here but snow for hundreds of kilometres.

  I saw some buildings to the east from my bedroom, Sarah suggested, indicating the lightening sky on the horizon. That way.

  Where are you going? Alex demanded as she got to her feet and set off towards the rising sun. How do you even know there’s anything out there?

  Sarah stopped and looked round at him. I don’t, she replied flatly, but it’s our best hope at the moment. Makarov and the Entity are bringing more meteorites to earth – we have to stop them.

  How do you propose to do that?

  Sarah shrugged. I don’t know, but there has to be someone out here who can help us. Also, Makarov has answers about the virus. The Entity uses it to control people – so they must have a cure. I intend to get it from them.

  With that, she turned and carried on into the wasteland. Alex clambered to his feet. Okay, okay, he called. I’m coming!

  Makarov paced the chamber in front of the Entity’s light beam, impatient for the return of Balthus. Although his master had fallen silent, the meteorite fragment continued to spin slowly, suspended only by the mighty psychic energy of the alien force.

  The rock was the largest surviving piece of the meteorite that had exploded over Tunguska in the year 1908. Makarov gained his psychic powers that day, but even as an eight-year-old had been smart enough to hide them from the Siberian priests who rescued him. He could already sense their superstitious beliefs that the meteorite strike was a punishment from God. If the priests discovered he could read their minds, Makarov knew he would have been denounced as a devil.

  So as he grew, he kept his power hidden.

  All the time his abilities were developing, however: mind-reading, thought control, extrasensory perception. In his dreams he saw things that had not happened yet, visions of a future where earth was ruled by an alien mind of unimaginable strength – the Entity. He instinctively knew that this force was also the source of his own hidden power and he began to formulate a plan to make contact.

  As he grew older he began to use his secret abilities to amass a fortune: gambling money on horse races and games of chance where he always knew the outcome. He fled to Europe after the communist revolution and bought factories and land – Makarov Industries was born. By the age of thirty he was already a millionaire many times over. Within a few decades he was one of the world’s first billionaires.

  But he never forgot his dreams of the powerful force from the meteorite. Makarov had grown to hate the people who surrounded him, those from whom he had to forever hide his secret. Meanwhile, the meteorite called to him in his dreams – promising contact with the one being in the universe who could understand him.

  So Makarov returned to Russia.

  Making friends with the communists was easy with the technological secrets he brought from the West. Their space programme never would have got off the ground without his knowledge or money. And that’s when he began his search for what remained of the meteorite in earnest, buying up vast tracts of land across Siberia and mining them for any trace, any piece of the alien artefact.

  It was a long search, taking over twenty years and hundreds of thousands of man-hours to complete, but finally, he got his reward. The meteorite fragment was found at the bottom of the Tunguska River. The same waterway that had swept him away from his father that day in 1908 now yielded the object that would change his life for ever. As he had suspected, the rock was a transmitter – a way of communicating directly with the alien intelligence that had thrown it towards the earth.

  The Entity existed light years from earth and its power was immense. In psychic communion with the alien, Makarov learned that it spread across the galaxies by means of the virus, taking its consciousness wherever it went. A hundred thousand intelligent civilizations on as many worlds had succumbed to the power of the Entity and now earth was in its sights. As Makarov communicated with the alien it began to show him visions of the future: a storm of virus-infected meteorites hitting earth and blackening the sky, the survivors infected by the virus first going into the coma and then becoming part of the great alien consciousness, little more than puppets under its control.

  The vision would have been terrifying to most people: the end of life on earth as humankind knew it and the beginning of a new era of existence. However, Makarov was not most people. He’d learned to hate his life on earth: always having to keep his power a secret, never being able to trust another person. The Entity offered a release from all that. The chance to reveal his powers to the world. To use them to rule in a way he had never dreamed possible. Why did the alien need him? Makarov had learned from business that however powerful a company might be, when it wanted to take over another, it helped to have someone on the inside.

  The Entity was no exception.

  So, he became the alien’s representative on earth, preparing the way for the coming storm. He built the Spires: seven fortresses that could survive the coming apocalypse. Among them, the one in Russia was the most important, containing the beacon that would guide the Entity’s meteors to strategic points around the globe: Washington, London, Delhi, Beijing – every major metropolis would be hit.

  But more important than that, he tracked down the children.

  From what Makarov could tell, the Entity feared only one thing: those few individuals, like himself, who were immune to the virus and developed powers as a side-effect. Such individuals had fought and defeated the Entity before, on other worlds in other galaxies. By Makarov’s calculations, based on the infection rates from the trial-run Australian strike earlier that year, the eventual rate of immunity would amount to 0.02% of all those infected. Worldwide, that was a significant number of people.

  A significant number of people that would eventually be his to rule.

  “I sense your thoughts, earthling,” the Entity’s voice boomed around the chamber unexpectedly. “You cannot hide your desires from me.”

  Makarov bowed his head slightly. “Then you will see I serve only you, Master.”

  The Entity’s laughter filled the room. “I know your ambitions.”

  Ambitions. Makarov sensed the powerful brain-scan of the Entity searching out the darkest, most hidden recesses of his mind. His dreams of ruling as a king over the immune 0.02% were laid bare. The Entity would have its billions of slaves to control and he would have his own race to command – on a peaceful little enclave somewhere far from the rest of the world. Somewhere warm.

  Australia, maybe.

  “You will need someone to control the humans with immunity, master,” Makarov ventured, as he had many times before. “Who better than your first servant on earth? Those who will not accept your rule will be… disposed of.”

  “You know this arrangement pleases me,” the Entity replied. “Appeasement has worked on other worlds. But in light of recent events, I wonder if humans are so easily controlled, or if you are the one to control them. If you cannot contain a few children, how will you command the thousands to come? Perhaps there is a better candidate – this Sarah Williams, for instance. She has proven herself most resourceful.”

  Makarov’s expression darkened. “Sarah Williams is a child. She does not have a tenth of my abilities.”

  The Entity sighed. “For now. I sense she will become a great power.”

  Before Makarov could reply, Balthus appeared at the door of the chamber and waited respectfully, head bowed. There was a dent in the side of its body – as if it had taken a blow.

  “What happened to them?” Makarov demanded of the robowolf.

  The robot raised its head and its synthesized voice responded, “INTRUDER CHILDREN > ESCAPED > OUTSIDE > PRESENT LOCATION UNKNOWN.”

  Makarov clenched his fists and took a slow, deep breath. He turned back to face his master and went down on one knee before the beam.

  “Forgive me, master,” he said softly. “They will be found and destroye
d. Surely these are the type of dissenters who have no place in our new world order.”

  “The boy is of no interest to me,” the Entity replied. “However, I want the girl brought back alive. Is that clear?”

  “Abundantly, master,” Makarov said with a bow as the beam dimmed, indicating that the Entity had broken contact. Rising slowly, he turned to face the robowolf, who stood ready for action.

  “Assemble the wolf pack, Balthus,” Makarov commanded as he walked over to his robotic servant. “Find them and kill them.” He paused for just a second before adding more quietly, “Kill them both.”

  24

  “I can’t feel my feet any more,” Alex complained as they trudged through the snow. The sun was rising ahead of them, bringing with it a biting wind that cut across the plain. While the thickly padded coats Sarah had picked up in the tower were doing an excellent job of insulating them against the sub-zero temperature, their trainers were highly ineffective at keeping out the cold and damp.

  “How long does it take to get frostbite?” he went on, looking across at Sarah, who was walking alongside him. “People lose their toes, you know.”

  Sarah gritted her teeth. “Maybe if you stopped talking about it, it would be easier.”

  Alex fell silent for a moment, but then shook his head. “Nope. That’s not helping at all.”

  “Well, it’s helping me,” she replied tersely. “You haven’t shut up in the last hour.”

  “Just trying to stop my teeth from freezing shut. You know they’re probably having breakfast in the tower right now. Bacon and eggs. Beans on toast. Sausages—”

  “Will you be quiet?”

  They trudged on in silence, struggling as the ground inclined towards a ridge. Alex skidded as his foot went through to the permafrost beneath the fresh snow. Pulling himself up, he ignored Sarah’s outstretched hand and staggered on.

  “Don’t help me,” he muttered. “You’ve done enough, thanks.”

  Sarah stomped after him. “What, this is my fault? You’re the one who led us to Makarov. I never should have listened to you.”

  “If it wasn’t for me, Major Bright would still have you trapped in Melbourne,” Alex shot back. “You had to go sneaking around, didn’t you? We were living in a paradise, but you just couldn’t accept it. I guess you’re happy now we’re going to die of exposure out here.”

  Sarah shook her head as the slope increased. “You heard him talking to that…thing in the Spire. Makarov would have killed us all eventually if we didn’t become its slaves.”

  “Whatever. You just had to prove me wrong about him, didn’t you?”

  Sarah laughed bitterly. “Well, you were wrong about him.”

  “I saw where you were living in Melbourne,” Alex went on. “Practically a slum. With your powers you could have lived much easier.”

  “We had to keep a low profile. People were after us.”

  “I don’t think you know how to enjoy the gifts you’ve been given.”

  “What, like robbing banks?” Sarah demanded and grinned as she saw Alex’s face redden despite the cold. “That’s right, I watched the news.”

  “I was forced to do that. You don’t know how it was.”

  “Well, don’t judge me either.”

  They fell silent as they reached the top of the incline. On the other side, the ground sloped down onto another massive plain. In the distance, a group of industrial buildings stood out against the flat wastes.

  “That’s not a village,” Alex said breathlessly.

  “No,” Sarah said, “it’s better. Those factories are sure to have communications gear.”

  She looked back across the ground they had covered. The Spire rose like a giant, gleaming stalagmite behind them – a surreal sight in the midst of the desolation. It was as if the building had been plucked out of the centre of a large city and deposited in the middle of the ice desert. She shielded her eyes against the snow that was beginning to fall with the coming of the dawn and squinted to make out a series of black shapes moving out from the base of the tower.

  Robowolves.

  “What is it?” Alex asked, following her gaze.

  “Hunters,” she replied. “Let’s keep moving.”

  The snow grew in intensity and within a few minutes a full scale blizzard was lashing the plain.

  Balthus loped forward, claws extended for extra grip on the snow and ice, distinguished from the other robowolves by its larger build and the streak of white along its side. A few paces behind, the rest followed, red eyes scanning ahead. The wolf-leader drew to a halt and the pack followed suit. The snow had effectively obscured the tracks of the children they had followed from the Spire. The other robowolves paced impatiently, awaiting orders. Balthus let out a synthesized howl of frustration and sent a wireless message to them:

  COMMAND: DISPERSE > SCATTER PATTERN > SEEK AND DESTROY

  The robowolves turned and headed off in different directions in search of their prey. Within seconds they were lost in the blizzard. Unlike normal hunters, they would never tire and never slow because of the cold. It would only be a matter of time before they found their targets.

  Red eyes glowing amidst the swirling snow, Balthus prowled onwards.

  Robert woke from a forgotten nightmare with a start. Knowing that Sarah and Alex were investigating the floors below, he hadn’t meant to sleep, but at some time in the night he’d drifted off. Untangling himself from the soft sheets that had become wrapped around his arms and legs, he looked around the room in confusion for a moment before remembering where he was – the bedroom he’d been assigned in Makarov’s tower. Then a sudden realization hit him: Sarah was no longer in the tower.

  Sarah, he called out with his mind. Sarah, where are you?

  There was no answer. Jumping out of bed, he dressed quickly as the computer-generated face of David, his room concierge, appeared on the window.

  “Good morning, Robert,” the avatar said. Behind him, the dawn had broken but the sun was obscured by clouds rolling in, bringing with them what looked like a heavy snowstorm.

  “Morning,” Robert said as he walked to the door and passed his hand over the scanner.

  “Nikolai Makarov is waiting for you in the garden room on the 153rd floor,” David announced as the door slid open. “The others have already been summoned to breakfast. Have a nice day, Robert.”

  The image on the window faded. A sense of real unease began to spread through Robert as he walked along the corridor towards the central lift. The empty corridors and the expansive view of the gathering clouds through the massive windows seemed suddenly oppressive. Sarah was right, he realized – the tower was a prison. It took her absence for him to understand that.

  He met Nestor at the lift. Are you okay? the older boy asked.

  Sarah’s gone, Robert said as they stepped inside and pressed the button for the top floor.

  I know, Nestor replied. I tried to contact her. Alex too. Something must have happened.

  We have to find them, Robert thought desperately, but Nestor held up a warning hand as the lift doors opened onto the grassy domain at the very top of the tower.

  Play it cool, Robert. Don’t give anything away until we know what’s going on.

  Trying his best to stay calm, Robert walked with Nestor towards the stone table in the middle of the open space. Breakfast had already been laid out, as much of a cornucopia as the day before. That morning, however, Louise, Wei and Octavio sat in silence and said nothing as the two boys approached. At the head of the table, Makarov sat with a silver knife in his bony fingers, buttering a piece of toast with slow, deliberate attention to detail. He seemed so completely absorbed in the act of spreading the butter to every edge of the bread that Robert wondered if the man even knew they were there. He and Nestor looked at Octavio as they took their seats. The other boy gave an almost imperceptible shake of the head. For a moment the silence continued to hang over the table, broken only by the sound of the simulated breeze through the
trees at the edge of the room. Around the glass ceiling snow swarmed and eddied as the blizzard raged outside.

  “I see two empty chairs,” Makarov said finally, continuing to scrape the knife across the piece of toast. “Can someone explain to me why that is?”

  The children looked at one another.

  He knows, Louise thought.

  Robert jumped from his seat. “What have you done with my sister?”

  Nestor stood by his side and placed a hand on his shoulder. Easy, Robert. This isn’t going to get us anywhere.

  Makarov laid the knife down on his plate and looked up for the first time. His eyes were like black pools – bottomless and strange.

  “I’m confused,” Makarov replied. “I rescue you from the clutches of people who would hurt you. I bring you into my home, feed you and give you everything you could want. Yet you insist on breaking my rules. Prying into my business. I told you not to go below the 90th floor—”

  Robert shrugged off Nestor’s hand and moved quickly round the table. Makarov lifted a casual hand and flicked a finger in his direction. Hit by an invisible force, Robert flew backwards and landed heavily on the grass several metres from the table.

  “Robert!” Louise cried, then looked round at Octavio and Wei. Enough of this. Let’s get him!

  The others made to rise from their seats, but suddenly found themselves rooted to the spot, completely unable to budge.

  I can’t move! Wei thought desperately. Louise struggled against the invisible force as well. Makarov’s psychic power was holding them in place.

  Robert got to his feet and ran at the table again, but only got a metre before he also froze in place like a statue. Looking slowly around the paralysed children, Makarov picked up the toast and took a bite from it.

  “It seems I’ve been giving you all too much of a free rein,” he announced. “Spare the rod and spoil the child, as my father always used to say. Well, from now on you’ll learn that my rules are not to be taken lightly. There will have to be punishments for disobedience.”