Trinity's Fall

by P A Vasey

  Nothing happened.

  My vision blurred for a second, and I put a hand out to grab the side of the ute. Cain’s quick fix in the transfer chamber was wearing off already.

  “Right, last chance,” I hissed. “Or we do this the hard way.”

  Batman just spat on the sidewalk, a great glob of sputum. I guessed that was the challenge accepted.

  I sidestepped Batman and got into the knife guy’s face. I swept my arm down, inside out hitting his forearm and jolting the knife out of his grip. My right elbow then hooked around and hit him full on in the face with more kinetic energy than a tennis racket at full serve. Batman was still processing what had just happened when I pulled the bat out of his hand and stabbed the knob into the middle of his face, squashing his nose with a starburst of crimson.

  Two down, three seconds gone.

  The third and fourth guys might as well have been traveling in slow motion as I moved in. One of them had his arms open to grab me in a bear hug so I just swung the bat backhanded and caught him full on the point of the jaw, where his neck met his skull. He dropped to his knees, still conscious but lights fading. I swatted him again, taking it easy but with more than adequate power to send him rocking sideways and then flat onto his face. The other guy was already bringing his arms up to protect himself so I just swung the bat one handed, breaking both his radius and ulnar like dry twigs. He screamed and rolled over onto the sidewalk, flailing with his good arm in an attempt to stop hitting the curb. I took a step forward and kicked him in the face for good measure.

  Unsurprisingly, the other four had backed off and were looking anxiously at each other and me. I pointed the baseball bat at each of them in turn, counting, “… eenie, meenie …” daring them to make a move.

  I wanted them to try it. Inside I was raging.

  They ran.

  “Scum,” I hissed.

  I broke the baseball bat in two over my knee, the noise loud and splintery, and I threw the pieces after them. The anger faded almost instantaneously and was replaced by sadness. Up the street looters and pillagers were running in and out of shopfronts and businesses and houses. I guessed that ordinary folks were doing the same, just trying to survive. Car alarms and shop alarms were going off, women and children were screaming and crying.

  I got into the ute and gunned the engine.

  Thirty minutes later I arrived at the ocean. I drove the ute as far as it could go into the sandy scrubland that corralled the beach and turned the motor off. I got out and leaned on the door, taking in the view. The shore was everything at once, every shade of blue before me, every shade from white to browns and greys at my feet. I closed my eyes, taking in the cool breeze, stealing warmth, the taste and smell of the brine. The ocean’s music took command of my ears with crashing waves and the forlorn cries of the gulls. Behind me a cliff face rose sharply, graphite in the autumn sun, a winding wooden path snaking up and into the parkland up top.

  I lifted the containers out of the flatbed and walked the thirty yards or so to the edge of the ocean, kicking off my shoes. The shore was a graceful arc of sand, glittering under the sun. Here, the waves rolled in with a soothing sound, the salty water disturbing a brief flurry of sand. Every few yards or so lay a shell, treasures of the deep, and small wet pebbles. I picked up a rock, slate-grey and worn smooth by millions of years of tidal erosion, and with a flick of the wrist sent it spinning into the sea just as the waves started to recede. Bouncing and skipping, each impact seemed to add energy and sending it higher until it accelerated out of sight with little regard for the laws of physics.

  “Gee, how’d you do that?” came a voice.

  I turned to find a small boy descending the wooden stairs built into the cliff at the edge of the beach. He was wearing board shorts, scuffed Converse trainers and a dirty white T-shirt. His hair was bleached blond and flapping around his ears as the onshore breeze played with it. A scrappy little cattle dog, red-brown with a pelt like a worn carpet, had also scuttled down the stairs and was now sniffing around my legs and wagging his small tail. I bent down and ruffled the fur between his ears, and he sat back on the sand and seemed to smile up at me. I glanced back at the boy, who looked eight or nine years old, and was now standing at the foot of the stairs nervously watching.

  “Where are your parents?” I asked.

  He indicated back up the stairs with a flick of his head. “Not far. They’ll be along soon.”

  I looked up the cliff, tracked the winding wooden staircase as far as it would go before it disappeared a few hundred yards into the scrubland of the national park. Beyond, just above the treeline, the sky was a blood red orange with wispy smoke plumes oozing into the atmosphere, diffusing and mingling as they rose. Eastward, back along the beach, the rainforest canopy was broken up by the skeletal remains of holiday apartments, previously millionaire’s weekend retreats with ocean views to die for. Now they were deserted and broken, their burned-out rafters and beams obscenely silhouetted charcoal against the darkening sky. I closed my eyes, immersing myself in the roar of crashing waves and the hissing of the water being pulled back over finely ground sand and gravel. I registered a mixture of odors: the charcoal of burning timber, putrid and decaying animal carcasses, sharp petroleum fuel, all clinging to the onshore breeze.

  “Are you one of them?” the boy asked, blue eyes as wide as dinner-plates.

  I wondered if he knew about the Vu-Hak, or whether my appearance was curious enough for a nine-year-old boy to join the dots better than an adult.

  I looked sideways at him and tapped the rock next to me. “Come, sit with me?”

  He looked up and shook his head, staring at his dog, wondering whether to call him in.

  “It’s okay,” I said. “What’s your name?”

  He looked back up the stairs, and then shrugged. “David.”

  “Hello, David. Nice to meet you.”

  He sidled over and slowly sat down next to me. Up close his skin was pale and patchy, with broken veins over his temple. He looked thin and unhealthy, and his bare arms were covered with scratches and bruises. His knees were a mottled purple, faded like a patchwork quilt. I reached over and put an arm around his shoulders, and in silence we watched the dog playing in the surf. Abruptly, David leaned forward, clutched his stomach and vomited into the pool of seawater at his feet. I held him until he had stopped retching, then washed his mouth and face with seawater from another puddle. I could feel his ribs moving under his shirt and the tremor of his muscles as he tried to control the nausea. I closed my eyes and allowed his emotions and thoughts to flow into mine. I sensed his fatigue, his loneliness and his terror. I coaxed his liver cells to manufacture anxiolytic proteins, which I then released into his bloodstream and through the blood–brain barrier, washing through his cerebral cortex, taking away the fear and anxiety.

  As I looked at David I thought of my dead daughter and sadness drained through me, traveling through every molecule. The memories flooded back, a tsunami that threatened to overwhelm and drown me. The beautiful little girl who exited my life so abruptly, leaving me broken. Artificially forgotten for six months because of my forced amnesia.

  Perhaps it had been better that way …

  I sensed a subliminal rumbling, like the passage of an underground subway train, and concentric ripples appeared in the surrounding rock pools. Sand started to trickle down from cracks higher up the cliff, and the tremors began to loosen the compact sand at my feet. A bright moon-sized blot appeared in the sky, enlarging fast. The grumbling noise became more visceral and the waves stopped their progress and now just sloshed around my feet like oil being swirled in a frying pan. I stood and watched as the shimmering sphere became an enlarging obsidian whirlpool bereft of lights or color. As it grew, the ocean hollowed out in a concave arc, the seabed underneath exposed to air for the first time in many eons. The atmosphere pulsed and surged as waves of unidentified energy charged the air with static. David put his fingers in his ears, closed his eyes and start
ed to scream. I elevated the level of anxiolytic chemicals coursing through his body, and immediately his eyes closed, consciousness fading. I caught him as he slid off the rock and lowered him gently to the wet sand.

  Cain appeared from the wormhole and slowly glided toward me. He touched down softly on the sand, ripples and tremors appearing under his feet. Like me, he was dressed in white, but in his Adam Benedict mode, all black hair, sharp angular features, and an aquiline nose. He looked around at the beach, then up the cliff-face at the staircase, then at the boy, sleeping peacefully by the rock. He lifted his head, as if sniffing the air, and closed his eyes. “It’s time to leave,” he said. “We can’t delay any longer. Finding you took too long.”

  I shook my head, looking at David. “I just need to make sure he’ll be alright.”

  Cain’s eyes blinked lazily, green phosphorescence flashing. “There’s nothing you can do for them. You must know that.”

  “I won’t let him suffer,” I said.

  Cain placed a hand on David’s forehead and gave an unexpectedly gentle caress of his brow, brushing a lock of hair away. “He is suffering. It’ll be better if he dies in his sleep.”

  I closed my eyes and waited for the tears to come. When they didn’t, I looked up at the wormhole, floating above the ocean bed.

  “It’s done then?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are there many left alive?”

  There was a brief pause, then: “Does it matter? Once we find Adam we need to leave.”

  The side of my mouth twitched, and I shook my head sadly. “Not anymore.”

  Cain picked up the two containers with the embryos, the future of the human race, and floated up into the wormhole. I took one last look at the beach and at David, unmoving, his dog standing over him and licking at his ears.

  I turned away, unable to take it anymore.

  FORTY-THREE

  Cain and I stepped off the wormhole platform as the portal span down behind us. Waiting behind the consoles were Stillman and Hamilton, both dressed in identical fitted jumpsuits wrapped with tubing and wires. Their suits were a steely matte grey and had a rubbery look a bit like a dolphin.

  Stillman gave me a smile. “I know, stylish, right?”

  I threw Cain a frown and he shrugged. “These suits will be necessary for their safety when the ship traverses the wormhole.”

  I was shocked. “Wait, back up … the ship?”

  Hamilton was nodding. “Yes! You should see it. Look.”

  He ushered me over to the console, where Cain activated a projection representing the wormhole generator. The images of the portal were similar if not identical to those from the Nevada crater back in Indian Springs. A spinning white mirror-like sphere with glimpses of galaxies and stars inside. Cain waved a hand and a representation of the ship appeared next to it, all computer-generated white and blue lines like something from the movie Tron. The scale of the wormhole he had produced was incredible. A mile across, easily. The ship would pass through it like cotton thread through the eye of a needle.

  “You’ve been busy,” I marveled.

  “The ship basically did all the work,” he replied. “Remember, it is essentially an advanced Von Neumann machine, able to replicate almost anything if given sufficient and accurate information.”

  “So, you fed it the data from the Lindstrom diaries?”

  “Yes, the Trinity Deus formula was uploaded six months ago, and in the last twenty-four hours the ship derived the solution. We can now produce a stable wormhole with a diameter of approximately one and a half miles.”

  Hamilton reached out a hand and gave mine a squeeze. “We can leave now, at any time.”

  “To go where?” I said quietly.

  “Anywhere we want,” he replied.

  “Within reason,” interjected Stillman.

  “Indeed,” said Cain. “The wormhole still needs to be tethered at its exit point, and to do that it is necessary to acquire accurate four-dimensional co-ordinates of the destination. Otherwise we could materialize in the center of a star, or a black hole.”

  “But then we just point the ship at it?” I said.

  Cain nodded. “The wormhole has a mild gravitational pull, strong enough for it to pull the ship in but weak enough that the ship’s maneuvering thrusters are able to guide it gently. Interestingly, the weak gravity results in a slowing of time within the wormhole, a feature which increases with the length of the wormhole.”

  “What, so … time slows down the farther we travel?”

  “Essentially, yes. But not so much as to be relevant.”

  I walked slowly around the hologram, watching the wormhole turn steadily to keep facing me, like one of those weird pictures where the eyes follow you.

  “The difference between the Nevada wormhole and this one is stability, yes?” I said. “How is that possible?”

  “The ship stabilizes the wormhole using dark matter and dark energy,” said Cain. “Fundamental particles of a type as yet unknown in human science. Dark matter permeates through almost all galaxies, and is harnessed by Vu-Hak technology to stabilize the naked singularities present in both of our Electromechs. The ship uses dark matter to hold the wormhole open as long as necessary.”

  I pursed my lips. “So could we lure the Vu-Hak into the wormhole and then close it, severing their connection to our galaxy forever? Would that be possible? Would it destroy them? Then any humans left on Earth would hopefully survive and – perhaps – start again?”

  “It would be impossible to lure all the Vu-Hak into the wormhole,” said Cain.

  Then Stillman got up from her chair and gave me a hug, which was unexpected, and reached up and touched the side of my cheek. I reciprocated by squeezing her hand.

  “Are you okay?” she asked, concern in her voice.

  “I got the stem cells,” I said, glancing at the suitcases that I’d left by the platform. “Humanity’s future.”

  She took my face in her other hand and stared into my eyes. “No, I meant you – how are you doing?”

  I wasn’t sure how to respond to that. I knew I was on borrowed time, but I didn’t know how much was left. Cain had said a couple of days and so it was only a matter of when, not if. My abilities were coming and going.

  And then, well, that was it.

  “I need to know that we have a plan,” I said, pointedly looking at Cain.

  Stillman looked perplexed. “We do now. We can get out of here. Save ourselves and humanity.”

  I said nothing and continued to stare at the hologram. Behind the ship and wormhole was a simulation of Earth, looking blue and beautiful, peaceful and welcoming.

  Hamilton sidled up next to me, his suit squeaking with each step. “What’s it like down there? On Earth?”

  Looking at him I wondered what family he’d left behind. Or Stillman, for that matter. I knew very little of their lives outside the FBI. But what could I tell them that would be of any comfort? Great cities falling into dust. People tossed and burned like rag dolls, entombed and engulfed in the nuclear fire storm. Air thick and noxious, rank with the smell of ash and death. Riots and looting and … The image of the dying boy, his dog frantically licking his face, popped into my head and refused to go away.

  “Shakespeare wrote, Hell is empty and all the devils are here,” I said. “It’s time we sent the devils back to hell.”

  Cain looked up sharply. “We have had this discussion, Kate. We must leave. We cannot confront the Vu-Hak. We do not have the technology. The future of your species is –”

  “No,” I hissed, feeling the rage surface again. “Look what they’ve done! They’ve ravaged their own fucking galaxy and now they’re here, starting over. We can’t just let them. We need to draw the line! Someone has to stop them!”

  “Kate, it’s over, we’ve lost …” said Stillman, hesitatingly.

  “It’s not lost. It can’t be! We need to make them pay for this. We … I will make them pay for what they’ve done!”

&nbs
p; I was screaming and shaking, and the need for revenge was like a rat gnawing at my soul, relentless and unceasing. I wondered whether hatred was all I had left. I wanted the Vu-Hak dead, all of them, every last fucking one.

  But, what then?

  I had no idea. I didn’t think I cared what would come next.

  I’d be dead anyway.

  Maybe that was why it had to be me.

  There was a quiet in the room and I became cognizant that they were all staring at me. Hamilton looked embarrassed, Stillman concerned, Cain just staring.

  “I need to do this,” I ground out.

  Cain looked at me sadly. “Kate, you don’t. This has to be about making a future for the human race.”

  I closed my eyes and tried to shut out the roaring that was going on. The fever burning in my soul. I wondered whether I still had a soul. I was human once, before I died. Had I lost the right to be called human now, and if not did I still have humanity? Had I blocked all my humanity out so I could taste the only thing left – revenge?

  Stillman’s hand touched my arm. “He’s right, Kate. It’s not about us anymore. If it ever was. The Earth is burning and we have to consider the survival of our species. Our right to survive.”

  I let out a juddering sigh.

  Revenge could wait.

  “Alright. Let’s get these embryos to the moon base,” I said. “Then we can pack up what we need and get out of here.”

  Cain shook his head. “No need. All the moon base facilities have been transferred to this ship. We have everything we need to store and nourish the embryos, and much more. Life support has been optimized as well, and quarters are being fashioned as we speak for everyone.”

  “What about Hubert?” I said. “How’s he doing?”

  “He’s in the med-lab, still out cold,” Stillman said. “The ship is keeping him in an induced coma until we can figure out what the problem is.”

  I looked back at Cain. “What about using the transfer technology if he doesn’t recover?”

  “Kate, your experience means that –”