Diamond Sky Trilogy Box Set: Books 1-3

by David Clarkson

  ‘Lucy, what are you saying?’

  ‘I’m saying goodbye’

  The soldiers were closing in. Who knew what they were armed with? A tranquiliser dart would take her out in no time. She could not afford them that opportunity. They were still a good fifty yards from her whilst the edge of the canyon was tantalisingly close. It would only take a few steps to take her over.

  ‘I love you, Emmy.’

  As Lucy leapt over the edge she heard her lover’s scream echoing in her mind. She could hear fireworks in the distance and felt a sharp pain shoot up her legs, but nothing could stop her breathtaking descent into the bowels of the canyon. In an instant, all the fear and pain was replaced by absolute serenity.

  For the briefest moment she thought she saw an angel. It had a familiar face.

  ***

  Emmy tried to reach out, but her arms were insubstantial, a mere illusion born of her inherent sense of self. She was powerless to prevent the woman she loved from committing suicide. The pain this caused was so powerful it overrode the usual detachment that comes with astral travelling. She could feel real emotion. She felt heartbroken. She felt...

  ...furious.

  In a last desperate attempt to find a solution, she reached out with her senses this time, searching for anything she could use to change Lucy’s fate. She found nothing. There was not one thing that could save her lover. All of her powers were useless.

  Determined not to give in, she switched her attention to the pursuers. She could feel the coldness in the hearts of the men in the helicopter. They saw Lucy as nothing more than a target to be either captured or put down. They were not even interested in Lucy herself but rather what she was carrying inside her. To them she was expendable. As she took her final steps to the canyon’s edge, they had attempted to take out her legs with bullets. Each round that hit its target increased the suffering of Lucy’s final moments on Earth. For this, they had to pay.

  Emmy willed her consciousness to the floor of the canyon. She knew instantly that Lucy’s body had been smashed apart upon impact. All that remained of her lover was the monochrome glow of inanimate organic matter. The remains of which would be bagged and taken to a lab for analysis. More experiments. More potential harm to be done. She was determined not to let this happen.

  The sinister implication of Einstein’s greatest achievement is that all matter is composed of highly compressed energy and should that energy be released spontaneously, it would produce an explosion of devastating force. Conventional science has so far only been able to exact such a release from a highly unstable element such as uranium. The astral technology had changed the game significantly. In Tibet, a rogue Chinese general had used the astral radiation to create superhuman suicide bombers.

  Emmy had no intention of detonating an atomic bomb in the middle of a world heritage park. She did, however, think that the remains of Lucy and the mutated unborn would contain enough trace elements of the psychic radiation to exact a smaller, controlled explosion.

  She spread her unfettered energy over the blood and flesh splattered rock, and recited a mantra, which had helped her to interact with physical matter in the past.

  I am energy, I am power

  I am energy, I am power

  I am energy, I am power

  I am energy, I am power

  She recanted the words over and over until she could feel the power tighten around her consciousness, compressing her will like a collapsing star. Then she let it go. She let the fire fill the canyon floor before rising up the walls like an erupting volcano, until its flames engulfed the helicopter circling above.

  Chapter 32

  The explosion tripped the power in the laboratory. Luckily for the scientists, the only damage done was to the circuitry of the projection pod Emmy had been using. It was a simple overload, the cause of which, Charlie immediately recognised.

  ‘What did you do this time?’ he asked his partner, as he helped her out of the projection chamber.

  Emmy did not reply. Instead, she just walked over to her desk and took a seat. Her hair was a little frazzled and she had dark smudges of soot on her face and clothes, but Charlie noticed something else. The way her eyes were wide yet unfocused and the trembling of her hands suggested anxiety. She was in a state of shock.

  ‘She’s gone,’ Emmy finally said; her voice flat and devoid of emotion. ‘After everything we’ve been through, I still couldn’t save her.’

  ‘They took her?’

  Emmy turned and looked at Charlie like he was speaking a foreign language.

  ‘What are you talking about? She’s dead. They forced her over the edge of a cliff. She jumped rather than let them get hold of that thing they put inside her. She killed herself and I couldn’t do a thing to help.’

  ‘But you did do something?’

  He lifted a lock of her scorched hair.

  She turned her eyes away from him. Ashamed but unrepentant for what she had done.

  ‘A friend once taught me that sometimes you have to take a life to save a life.’

  ‘Esteban is a soldier – you’re a scientist. There’s a world of difference between the two. Please don’t tell me you did something you’ll one day regret.’

  Emmy shrugged. Her emotional detachment remained.

  ‘No, not anything I’ll regret.’

  It was not hard for Charlie to figure out how far she had gone this time.

  ‘Jesus, Emmy, you can’t kill people no matter what they’ve done to you.’

  ‘Not to me – to Lucy. And if you’re accusing me of murder, I have the perfect alibi. I’ve not left this laboratory all morning.’

  ‘Do you realise how childish you sound right now? The law may not catch up with you for this but one day your conscience will.’

  ‘My conscience burned along with the body of the woman I loved. I surrendered it to her so that she may live. Lucy was the best part of me and now she’s nothing but a memory in a fading star.’

  When Charlie looked into her eyes, what he saw frightened him. He realised that Emmy’s instability went far beyond this one act of revenge.

  ‘What are you saying?’ he asked her.

  ‘I used the tulpa to bring Lucy back. I used it to replace the spirit she had lost. It was still Lucy, her personality, her memories, but we became connected in a way you couldn’t begin to understand. Now it’s gone. I can still feel the connections, but they no longer lead anywhere. When she died, it was a part of my spirit that crossed over, not hers. You should be glad. I finally exorcised my biggest demon.’

  Charlie saw her sadness, but he also saw the truth behind it. Emmy really had lost her soul.

  ‘You realise that after this I can’t allow you to astral travel, don’t you?’

  She nodded.

  ‘It doesn’t matter anyway,’ she told him. ‘That part of my life is over. In the morning, I’m leaving this place for good. You can keep the universe. I no longer want it.’

  ***

  When Emmy returned to her apartment her resolve to quit the astral program had only strengthened. A clean break was her best option. She had just one loose end to take care of and then she would be able to leave.

  She picked up her cell phone and keyed in a number, which she had previously burned into her memory. It was a number she never expected she would ever have to call. An answer came after the second tone.

  ‘Cruz.’

  ‘Is the line secure?’

  ‘From everything but an astral traveller. What do you want, Emmy?’

  ‘She’s dead.’

  The line went quiet. Emmy waited a full minute for Esteban to respond.

  ‘I take it the official story is not true,’ he finally said.

  ‘I haven’t heard an official story yet.’

  ‘As far as the CIA is aware, Ms Skye recovered from a three year coma only to take her own life shortly thereafter. Given the level of stress related to her recovery and the psychological problems associated in dealing wit
h such a large time span, her death is not being regarded as suspicious.’

  More lies. Emmy’s hand trembled as she struggled to keep the handset pressed to her face.

  ‘And what is the unofficial line?’ she asked.

  ‘Operation Sleepwalker was shut down. If some other agency has picked up the slack the CIA is yet to know about it. You didn’t call me to get information though, did you?’

  This time it was Emmy who took a prolonged pause.

  ‘No,’ she finally told him. ‘Lucy did commit suicide, but only because she had no other choice. Do you remember Dr Stark?’

  ‘The woman they tried to replace you with. She was twice your age and had only half your intelligence. What’s she got to do with all this?’

  ‘I wouldn’t want to unduly influence you in any way – I know how you like to take an objective approach to what you do. All I want is for you to find her.’

  ‘And then what?’

  Esteban was impossible to read, but Emmy hoped that intrigue was overriding his suspicion at this moment.

  ‘Talk to her. Where you go from there is up to you. I know you’ll do the right thing. You always do.’

  She ended the call without waiting for his response. What happened next was out of her hands. With Esteban Cruz on the case, she at least had peace of mind in knowing that Constance would get what she deserved – whatever that may be.

  ***

  Charlie worked tirelessly to replace the fried circuit boards on the primary projection unit. He wanted the system back on line as soon as possible. With or without Emmy, he had a job to do and he intended to do it.

  He liked fixing things. Life was so much simpler when you knew the end point to what you were doing. Maybe it was not so much fun, but it was a damn sight less dangerous, that was for sure. He only wished he could solve all problems with a screwdriver and a soldering iron. Whilst engrossed in his work he failed to register the lab doors had been opened.

  The sound of footsteps orbiting the control station eventually alerted him to the alien presence in the room. The techs had all been given the day off with explicit instructions not to come in so he knew it was not them. He had no option but to put down his tools and investigate.

  There were two of them. One male and one female. They were both dressed in dark business suits, which simply reeked of corporate impunity. Each of them projected a sterile air of asexuality. People like this did not have time for anything as trivial as pleasure.

  ‘Professor Charles Nguyen?’ the woman asked.

  Charlie nodded.

  ‘Who let you in here?’ he then asked.

  ‘Your security guard was most helpful,’ the woman replied. ‘I expect you will extend the same courtesy.’

  ‘Of course,’ Charlie replied. ‘There’s the door. I’ll open it and you walk through it.’

  The male glanced at the woman, who responded with a very slight arcing movement with her hand, which she kept down by her side. This told Charlie two things. Firstly, he now knew who was in charge. Secondly, diplomacy was not the only option available to these people.

  ‘Is Dr Rayne here?’ the woman asked.

  ‘She took the day off. Since Lucy left without telling her anything, she’s been worried sick. Rather than carry on without her, I decided to perform some routine maintenance on the projection pods.’

  ‘Your equipment is giving you problems?’

  ‘No. Like I said, it’s routine. If you don’t mind, I’d like to get back to it.’

  He returned to the projection chamber and opened up a panel on the undamaged pod before making a show of checking and cleaning the circuits inside. If the suits were becoming inpatient they hid it well.

  ‘Professor Nguyen, you have not asked to see our credentials or even who we are. Were you expecting a visit today?’

  Charlie shrugged.

  ‘A bunch of guys in black combat fatigues showed up here yesterday. They were American. Judging by your accents, I’m guessing they were friends of yours. Shortly after they left, one of our senior scientists, Dr Stark, left too. Constance isn’t in some kind of trouble, is she?’

  The woman smiled. It was neither friendly nor sinister. She exuded no emotion whatsoever.

  ‘Constance is doing just fine,’ she told him. ‘She is working with us on a matter of international security. I hope it won’t be an inconvenience for you guys to carry on without her.’

  ‘Not at all,’ said Charlie.

  ‘That’s good to know.’ She nodded to her colleague before turning back to Charlie. ‘You know, I think we’ve seen enough. It’s time we got going. Goodbye, Professor.’

  The woman turned and walked to the door, but the man remained where he was standing. Charlie was not keen on the idea of this guy hanging around. He left the projection pod and walked toward him.

  ‘You know, all this fiddling about with electronics is making me hungry. I think I’ll go pick something up at the canteen. I’ll walk you out - it’s on the way.’

  As he attempted to pass the suited man, Charlie felt his legs swept out from under him. He fell forward, his forehead crashing against the hard edge of a desk. Before he could reorient himself the aggressor was on top of him. The guy was strong. He picked Charlie up by the scruff of his lab coat and then threw the scientist against a wall.

  ‘What are you doing?’ shouted Charlie. ‘We conduct peaceful research here. Whatever organisation you work for, it has nothing to fear from us.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ the man replied. ‘We’re not scared. And we don’t really care about this second grade, science fair shit you’ve got going on. The thing is, your little whore friend killed nine good men. And that, we do care about.’

  As he slowly stalked towards the badly shaken scientist, the brute reached into his inside jacket pocket and pulled out a pair of black leather gloves. His work often involved far too much talk and not enough action. This day would be an exception. He was going to have some fun for a change.

  Chapter 33

  No matter how much she tried she could not keep her thoughts from replaying Lucy’s final moments over and over in her mind. Her brain was locked into the most vicious of circles. The soldiers clad in black, the unnatural demon child and the fatal plunge into the canyon – it all kept going round and round in an inescapable cycle of self torture.

  When sleep eventually came it was fevered and erratic. Her dreams had become more lucid since taking her first astral trip and this made it more difficult for her to separate them from reality. As she looked down at the sand around her bare feet, she could not be sure if she was imagining it or if she had at some point blacked out and sleepwalked her way out of the complex.

  ‘Over here,’ whispered a voice, carried to her on the wind.

  She glanced around, confirming that she was alone but for the thousands of stars in the endless night sky.

  ‘Is somebody there?’ she asked.

  ‘Yes.’

  Still she could see no one. The origin of the voice was impossible to place. Though the tone was undoubtedly masculine, it was as if the words had formed inside her head. It reminded her of the way she communicated on the astral plane.

  ‘I can’t see you,’ she ventured.

  ‘That is because you are not looking.’

  ‘Where are you?’ she asked.

  ‘I’m right in front of you.’

  She looked directly ahead. There was only empty space between Emmy and the distant horizon. No lights apart from the stars above. It was impossible for her to have come this far from the complex on foot so she had to be dreaming. She was not standing in the desert - she was lying alone in bed.

  As soon as she became aware of the unreality of her situation the sense of loss and despair came flooding back.

  ‘Lucy!’

  The name echoed around the room as she reoriented herself. Despite the air-con blowing on full, her whole body was clammy with sweat. The bed sheet was tangled around her legs making her feel like a merm
aid caught in a trawler’s net. Not wishing to return immediately to sleep, she wrested her legs free and got up to make a brew.

  She did not bother to turn on the lights. Her eyes could not cope with brightness yet. Mercifully, the apartment was sparse and easily navigated in the dark. The starlight coming in through the gaps in the blinds was adequate for her needs. All she had to do was to find a cup and boil the kettle.

  ‘I am still here.’

  The return of the voice caught her by surprise. She dropped the cup, losing track of it as it fell into the shadows below the worktop. It landed with a thud. In a panic, she squatted down and searched for it with her hands. She half expected to find the floor had turned to sand, but it was still made of the linoleum it had always been.

  ‘This isn’t working. Are you sure she can hear me?’

  Emmy froze. If her mind was playing tricks on her, it was going about it in a most peculiar way. Was the voice in her head now talking about her rather than to her? She slowly got back to her feet and put the cup down on the kitchen counter, trying to act as if she had not noticed the inexplicable voice.

  ‘Talk to me Emmy.’

  The voice was definitely familiar. It carried an Aboriginal cadence. As crazy as the thought was, she could not help but think it sounded just like Sammy, the janitor from the observatory in Jackson’s Hill. But this was impossible. Sammy had been shot and killed the same night Lucy was taken from her the first time.

  ‘Tell me who you are,’ she demanded, speaking in a clear, authoritative tone, but being careful to avoid aggression.

  ‘You would not believe me if I told you. That is why you must see me. Seeing is believing.’

  ‘Where are you? If I am to see you, I need to know where to look.’

  ‘You need only to believe.’

  ‘No, I need to get a grip. I lost somebody today. Grief does strange things. That’s what you are. You’re my mind’s way of coping with grief. Nothing more.’