Beyond Ever Blue Skies

by Clive S. Johnson

This time she almost gasped the word “Re-establish”.

  “We’re both shattered,” he said, stating the obvious. “We haven’t eaten or drunk in hours.”

  “And,” Stephanie began, “we nearly got ourselves suffo—”

  “But before I can tell you much more,” Morgan rushed to say, “there’s a load of information Ken’s given me that I need to get my head around.”

  “Information,” Edsel said as he came up close behind Morgan; too close. “What information?”

  Morgan edged further along the cabinet he still leant against, away from Edsel. “For getting back the link with Ken. Look,” he then said, turning back to Connie-Jay, “I need time to go over it all, and anyway, Steph needs a drink and some food; we both do. Getting to speak to Ken wasn’t easy.”

  “Of course; of course, I can see that from your forehead.” Connie-Jay observed. “How inconsiderate of me. But your news is just so overwhelming. More than I dared hope for,” and her face lit up as she clearly allowed herself to believe him at last. “But we can wait for the detail. Can’t we, Edsel?”

  “I suppose so,” Edsel obediently muttered.

  “In which case, make sure these two get home safely. Make sure they get some food and drink, and enough rest to—”

  “Damn, but I’ve to be up for work in the morning,” Stephanie sighed. “I hope I’m—”

  “Oh, don’t worry about that, girl. I’ll sort it out with Agri-Prod. Leave it with me. I think it’s best you assist Morgan. So, consider yourself on leave-of-absence until further notice. If we do get Ken’s guidance back then there’ll be a lot to do; a lot to catch up on. There’s my long overdue successor to sort out for one thing,” she seemed to say to herself. “But I just hope we’re not too late for our most important task:” and her voice became more assertive, “getting the chosen to The Promised Land.

  “Edsel,” she said, turning to him, “I want this connection fixed without delay; do you understand? As quickly as possible. So, anything Morgan needs, he gets. Do I make myself clear?”

  Edsel drew his lips tightly together but then nodded before narrowing his eyes at Morgan.

  “Come on, then,” she barked. “Get these two home, double-quick,” at which she lifted her chin and stared down her nose at Edsel. Then she hurried to the door, as best she could through the room’s tangle of equipment.

  She stopped and turned to face them. “Whatever Morgan needs, Edsel; remember. And keep me informed—regularly, you hear?” This time she stared hard at Morgan. “As soon as you know what needs doing, get Edsel to bring you to me. I want an update at the earliest,” at which she snatched the door open and bustled out.

  Stephanie groaned from her place on the floor. “I’m dying of thirst, Morgan. I need a coffee—a real one.”

  “That’ll be your place, then,” and he looked askance at Edsel as he asked her if she was strong enough to get there. She too peered briefly at her uncle before saying she was and pushing herself to her feet.

  They’d helped each other through the room’s clutter and to the door before realising Edsel had hung back. He again stood beneath the raised column, peering up into its blackness. For some reason a shiver ran down Morgan’s spine, knowing that the yellow light would return at any moment, would light the sphere and the great cavern above.

  “Would you mind getting the door for us, Edsel?” he called back. “I don’t think either of us have the strength anymore.”

  Edsel angled his head, still staring up. Then he peered at them both before taking one last look and joining them.

  “Whatever you need,” he crooned, a one-sided grin marring his face. “Whatever you need,” and he opened the door to an evening sky, its dusk light overarching one of Rundkern’s still bustling alleys.

  As Edsel took his time closing the door behind them, Morgan hurried Stephanie across the alley, putting some distance between them and him. Morgan whispered “I wish you’d not mentioned Ken, Steph.”

  “Why ever not?”

  Morgan stopped for a moment, thinking, before gathering his strength and urging Stephanie on. “I’m not sure. I’d just have felt happier knowing exactly what Ken’s asked me to do before letting on.”

  “How could we have explained what we were doing there, though; trapped?” but Morgan noticed Edsel had stepped out to catch them up.

  “You could have said we were just following a lead or something. But don’t say any more; let me handle it, at least for the present. Until I know more.”

  Edsel came alongside, his eyes narrowing. “Know more of what?” he asked, clearly trying hard to make it sound conversational. Morgan ignored him, hurrying them on the more, although he felt fit to drop, as he knew Stephanie must.

  Supporting each other in turns, they eventually reached Stephanie’s apartment and there collapsed on the sofa. Edsel went to slump down on one of the chairs but Morgan suggested he make them some coffee.

  “Make you… Of course, anything you need. White and two sugars if I remember right,” and he ambled out to the kitchenette.

  Morgan rested his head back against the sofa, closed his eyes and gingerly felt his forehead. He’d quite a lump there; a tender one.

  “Oh dear, Morgan, that looks really sore,” and Stephanie nuzzled nearer. “You’ve got a whopping bruise coming.”

  A small price to pay, he thought, for getting the sphere safely docked. “When I’ve had my coffee,” he then quietly said, “I’m going to have to get off home, Steph. I need a rest before going through everything Ken’s given me. So remember: don’t say any more to anyone. Not just yet, anyway.”

  She nodded as Edsel came back in and sat down, reassuring them that the coffee was now on and brewing.

  When it eventually came, and Morgan had almost downed it in one to chase away his thirst, he finally rose and took his leave of Stephanie. Edsel got up, too, following him out.

  “You going as well?” Morgan asked as Edsel closed the apartment door behind them.

  “Aye, wi’ you; got to make sure you get home safe.”

  Morgan stared at him. “So what do you think’s going to happen to me, just walking across Rundkern?” but the man shrugged.

  “Connie-Jay’s not one to be messed wi’; I’ve got my orders.”

  “After which you’ll be on your way, I take it? Or do you intend making me a meal and tucking me up in bed?”

  “Unless you need me to,” he smirked.

  Morgan would certainly need to arrange to see Connie-Jay, as soon as he knew exactly what had to be done, so asked for Edsel’s contact details. Edsel seemed reluctant at first, but then narrowed his eyes before a smile of sorts seeped across his face.

  “Aye. Why not. You ready?” Morgan blinked at the “Share” icon in the corner of his vision, beside which an image of Edsel’s contact card briefly appeared before Perry filed it away.

  Morgan then marched off, down the stairs and out into the alley, wishing he could have stridden out more, the sooner to get home. But he just didn’t have the energy. His recent near suffocation and the throb from his bruised forehead seemed to sap his will. But as Edsel followed him, there was a definite edge to the man’s silence, as though he were steeling himself to say something.

  They weren’t far from Morgan’s own alley when Edsel finally did speak: “So you’ve met Ken himself, ‘ave you? Spoken with ‘im?”

  Morgan ignored him.

  “Found ‘im up that column thing, eh?”

  Clearly Edsel had no intention of letting up, so Morgan stopped, but at first only stared at the man.

  “Well, I’m bound to be curious,” Edsel grinned, disarmingly.

  Morgan reluctantly allowed him that.

  Edsel peered hard at Morgan. “It’s just that… Well, it didn’t seem to take you very long to find ‘im, like; now did it?”

  “What are you trying to… I’ll have you know I did speak with him. And I found him so quickly because of the systems I have access to…being a lecy-eng.”

>   Despite feeling so weak, Morgan stood straight before Edsel, his chin thrust out. “And if you don’t mind, I’m knackered. All I want to do now is get something to eat and go to bed. So, as I’m nearly home, I think you can consider your current duties discharged,” and he stormed off without looking back.

  When he let himself into the apartment and wandered through to the living room, his father looked up and marvelled, “Oh, the wanderer returns.” But then his jaw dropped. “What in Rundkern have you done to your head?”

  “His head?” his mother said, lifting her gaze from a fast asleep Jowett nestled on her lap. She yelped.

  “It’s nothing,” Morgan assured them. “It throbs a bit, but I’m all right.”

  “Well, you can’t have been in a fight,” his father reckoned. “Your life’s just not that exciting.”

  “Derek Travis!” his mother chastised. “Have a bit of concern. Your son’s hurt, for Pete’s sake.” She swung her worried gaze straight back to Morgan. “Does it hurt? It must do. Do you need a painkiller? I think I’ve got some in the cupboard.”

  “A drink and a bite to eat wouldn’t go amiss, Mum.”

  She carefully lifted Jowett and stood, gently laying the child back on the warm spot she’d left behind. “Won’t be a minute,” she told Morgan and was soon about her business in the kitchenette.

  Morgan sat in the spare chair and stared enviously at his still sleeping brother.

  “Come on, then. How d’you do it?” Derek said. Morgan for the first time in years sensed genuine interest behind his father’s question.

  “A door; I walked into the edge of a door.”

  “Ow. Easily done, I know; done it myself. Here,” and he pushed himself to his feet, “I’ll get you a stiff drink. Do you more good.”

  Morgan was taken aback, unused to such solicitous behaviour from his father. Before he knew it, a tumbler of whisky sat on the arm of his chair.

  “Thanks, Dad,” and somehow it felt churlish not to drink some of it, despite it being the last thing he’d wanted.

  “Ready,” came from the kitchenette, and Morgan prised himself from his chair and took the drink with him to join his mother. The habitual bowl of stew already sat on a counter, a glass of juice beside it.

  By the time he’d eaten and excused himself for an early night, the day was fast catching up with him. He soon lay in bed, determined to read through Ken’s instructions, but somehow remembered nothing more until early morning daylight eventually prised open his reluctant eyes.

  16 Pulled Strings, Perhaps

  As Morgan sat at one of the counters in the kitchenette, eating breakfast, he heard Jowett start to cry in their parent’s bedroom down the hallway. Their mother could then be heard comforting the child, telling him how unfair teething pain was and that she’d have to go get him his gel. Morgan decided he’d be best finding somewhere quieter before getting to grips with Ken’s instructions.

  He finished his meal, gulped down the last of his coffee and left for the park, feeling more or less fully recovered after his good night’s sleep. The bench he and Stephanie had sat on, he reckoned, would do well enough, especially so early in the morning.

  As he approached the park gates, a jogging figure just down the avenue made its way towards him. Before Morgan could spot who it was, Ellie Fawshrop’s voice assailed his ears: “Morgan? Is that you again?” and he felt compelled to wait for her at the gates.

  “Bit early for a lecy-eng to be up and about, isn’t it?” he greeted her with.

  She stared at his forehead. “Crikey, Morgan; that don’t half make you look ugly. Definitely not going to kiss you today. What happened?”

  “Walked into a door.”

  “That was stupid.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  “Hey…well…whatever, but at least I’ve got some good news,” and she beamed at him. “Guess what?”

  “What?”

  “My times have suddenly started getting better,” and she smiled, smugly, before nonchalantly tossing her ponytail back.

  “Your times? You mean your lap-times? Since when?” and this got Morgan to wondering.

  She nodded, vigorously. “Since yesterday. Isn’t it great? Others have said the same. But why? that’s what I’d like to know.”

  They wandered into the park together, but Ellie seemed keen to get on with improving her times. “I’ve an early meeting today, that’s why I’m in at this unheard-of-hour, so I’d best be quick about it. See you around,” and she almost flew down the path beside the park wall and into the distance.

  Morgan blinked up the time: too early to disturb Stephanie.

  The park bench, under its secluding shade of trees, gave him the peace he needed. Before long he’d become so embroiled in Ken’s instructions he never noticed the slow but steady influx of joggers. They could have been running tight circles around him for all they impinged. Although the tasks he found in themselves seemed to demand little more than his lecy-eng training had prepared him for, what the attached files ultimately revealed well and truly beggared his belief.

  He eventually had to sit back, soon blowing out a prolonged whistle. “This is far more than Rundkern’s twenty-odd sections could hold; far more…a huge amount more.” He stared dumbly into the distance, his mind reeling, until he shook his head to get his thoughts back together.

  But then he remembered the sheer size of the cavern above, above their own section’s sky, the vanishing height of the shaft and the wide spread of its swooping roofs. Still, though, he thought, even that doesn’t seem enough, and he quickly delved back into the files.

  When Morgan eventually began to suspect that the diagrams and schematics Ken had passed him had all been heavily expurgated, his wonder found new heights. “If only there was a map of it all, like the lecy plan of our section,” but having been through every file twice now, he finally had to accept there wasn’t.

  He went back to Ken’s list of tasks, and with his new knowledge realised they were a sequence, a step by step rerouting of communications via previously unrelated systems. “In which case,” he told himself, “one end of the new chain should be at Erebus and the other pointing at Ken. But which end is which?”

  The first instruction concerned a distribution cabinet along avenue JAR5, which Morgan recognised as being not that far from Erebus itself. He dropped straight down to the last task in the list but little in it seemed familiar. Then a term in the preceding task caught his virtual eye.

  “Service pod? But wasn’t that what Ken had called the sphere?” This one, though, appeared to have its access on the opposite side of the section, in somewhere he already knew of: Atmos. However, he also knew he now had the key to its door—his fingerprint.

  He cleared the images from his vision and stared up at the sky, realising just how strained his eyesight had become. When he rubbed his eyes and ran his palms up to his forehead, he yelped out loud at the pain.

  “Damn. Forgot all about that,” but as he opened his eyes, his improving vision revealed a distant figure heading at a jog across the grass towards him—Ellie.

  He got up from the bench and strode off quickly towards the park entrance, hoping she’d not realise he’d seen her. When he took a last quick peek back before slipping out, she was near the bench, touching her toes.

  “Phew. Close one,” he breathed as he put the park behind him.

  It wasn’t long before he stood before Atmos’s innocuous-looking door, its simple number “2” number plate tempting the tip of his finger. He reached up and touched the number, and the door clicked open. “Great,” then he cautiously pushed his way in.

  A narrow corridor ran away from the door to another one at the far end. Part way down he passed a side door, one he’d not noticed at first. He blinked up Ken’s instructions and soon confirmed he’d to carry on to the one at the end. But before he did, he realised the door now before him boasted a blue name plate, the very thing he’d expected to find outside at his first visit: “J-Se
ction Atmos”. Out of curiosity, he tried the door and it opened.

  Quietly, he slipped into a deserted control room of some sort, a large darkened window across the far wall beneath which ran a bank of sloping desks, a couple of chairs tidily tucked away beneath them. Morgan leant against the desktop and surveyed the array of controls it held. A rectangle of small lettered squares drew his interest and he read the top line: “QWERTYUIOP”. This clearly made no sense. What made even less sense, for it had no inscribed letter at all, was a long bar along the bottom edge.

  Tentatively, he touched it then ran his finger along its smooth length. Although nothing happened, it gave slightly at his finger’s light pressure. He pressed a little harder and it clicked down, then he leapt back when a screen in the desktop above the grid of letters came to life. Lines and lines of what to Morgan looked like system messages now glowed inertly from the screen, their meaning evading him—except for the very last that read: “REMOTE REBOOT SUCCESSFULLY COMPLETED”.

  Morgan looked back at the date and timestamps of the previous messages and furrowed his brow. “That’s when me and Steph were at the bench in the park, before we set out for Caelum, when I’m sure it was Ken who asked me for my fingerprint.”

  The room’s complete silence had begun to unnerve him, carrying with it a distinct sense of having dwelt here undisturbed for an inordinate length of time. He shivered involuntarily, backed away from the desk then slipped out, quietly closing the door to the room’s seemingly hoarded solitude.

  The door at the far end of the corridor also gave way at his slight touch, but this time revealing a small, dimly lit room beyond. Around its walls stood racks and racks of shelving, all tightly crammed with boxes of various sizes. Near the room’s centre stood a single desk, before which, on the floor, lay a now familiar metal disk.

  As Morgan approached the desk, he lifted his gaze to the ceiling. Sure enough, a round glass hatch bulged down slightly into the room, its furthest edge holding a hint of refracted yellow light. Morgan smiled as he blinked up Ken’s instructions, and as he mentally thanked Connie-Jay for having kept Stephanie free to assist him.