Gravity Storm

by Tom Dublin

Saf Tah grabbed a bottle half-filled with black liquor from a side table, ripped out the cork with his teeth, then took a long swig whilst pausing to admire a framed painting of the Malatian's home world.

  "Aren't we the ones who benefitted?" asked Jus Clo.

  Saf Tah spun to glare at his subordinate. "Of course not!" he snarled. "Are you insane?"

  "I didn't think I was," admitted Jus Clo. "But since we started this conversation, I'm not so sure..."

  "Morons!" bellowed Saf Tah before taking another long drink. He began to pace again, reveling in the painful burning sensation as the fiery liquid made its way down his throat.

  "Now that those bastards from the Etheric Empire have so gallantly saved our lives, we're forever in their debt," he growled. "Well, I am, at least. I'm not sure keeping you shit-eaters from the next life does anyone any good whatsoever, least of all me!"

  "So, would you rather they hadn't saved our lives?" questioned Jus Clo.

  "Of course!" Saf Tah sneered. "I should have been the one to save their pathetic souls! Then they would owe me a debt, and I'd have all my pieces in place for the endgame."

  Mol Gat rubbed at his forehead. "I think I need to lie down."

  "Don't you get it?" demanded the vice president, taking a final swig of liquor before tossing the empty bottle aside. "Once I realized I was in the debt of those mongrels, I had no option but to suggest I was reconsidering Tor Val's naive plans to join the Etheric Empire.”

  "So, we're not going to do that?" asked Mol Gat.

  "Quite the opposite!" replied Saf Tah. "I was always going to agree to align Alma Nine with them."

  "You were?"

  "Certainly, but under my terms."

  Jus Clo looked to Mol Gat, but his colleague shrugged. "Your terms, sir?"

  Saf Tah smiled, but this was not the pleasant smile he had presented as he was leaving the presidential office suite.

  This smile was colder. Darker.

  "My terms, gentlemen, and the terms of like-minded individuals across the Ordanian Hub, and beyond."

  Finally, the vice president stopped his pacing, and turned to face one of the large bookcases lining the walls of the room. Reaching up, he removed a book with a nondescript cover.

  There was a click, and the painting of Malatia rolled up inside its frame to reveal another piece of artwork hidden underneath.

  Artwork featuring a symbol painted in black, red and white.

  The symbol of an organization some would call freedom fighters, but most would call terrorists.

  The symbol of Dark Tomorrow.

  Saf Tah's cold smile widened as he saluted the painting with pride.

  "Tomorrow, the blood of our enemies shall rain down from the heavens!"

  23

  Alma Nine, Taron City, Weather Control Center, Temporary Laboratory

  Jack peered through the eyepiece of the microscope. "I can see it," he said, "but I'm still not one-hundred-percent certain what it is."

  Zeb Lok gestured to the picture on the computer screen linked to the cracked glass case. "It's a nanobot," he explained. "One designed by our chief scientist, Yan Mil."

  "And you say it's holding gravity?" quizzed Adina.

  "Believe it or not, yes," Zeb Lok replied. "We've colored it orange to make it visible to us, but that tiny sphere the nanobot is gripping in its pincers is a graviton; a single particle of gravity."

  "You've found those things?" asked Tc'aarlat.

  "Yan Mil did, several years before we left Malatia," replied Zeb Lok. "He designed the artificial gravity system for the Dessia, the ship we came here aboard. It was, essentially, millions of nanobots embedded into the Dessia's shell, each holding a graviton."

  "That still doesn't explain these gravitational waves," Jack pointed out.

  "Actually it does," said Zeb Lok with a sigh. "It's the same nanobots. They're snatching gravitons from outside the atmosphere and dragging them down to ground level."

  Adina looked back at the screen. "These things have gone rogue?"

  "That was what we thought at first," said Zeb Lok. "But, unfortunately not. They've been reprogrammed to do this deliberately."

  "What?!" exclaimed Tc'aarlat. "Who would do that? Was the system hacked?"

  "That's what we're looking into now."

  "And the unpredictable weather?" asked Jack.

  "The same nanobots, I'm afraid," said Zeb Lok. "Yan Mil figured out a way to get them to multitask."

  "Perfect!" sighed Tc'aarlat. "So, we're at the mercy of millions of tiny robot bastards."

  "Try trillions," responded Zeb Lok. "Whoever did this also took control of our back-up swarms, and those dedicated to moderating the weather in other areas of the planet."

  "Can't you just catch them all with a big net?" Tc'aarlat asked.

  "Unfortunately not," replied Zeb Lok. "We don't have anything with a fine enough mesh. They'd just fly right through."

  Tc'aarlat's mandibles tapped together in thought. "What about zapping them with an electro-magnetic pulse?"

  "The nanobots have a built-in shield," Zeb Lok explained. "All we'd succeed in doing is trashing every bit of technology we might be able to use to track them and protect the public."

  Jack stepped aside so that Adina could take his place at the microscope. "There must be some way to get them back under control. What has Yan Mil had to say about the situation? He designed them, after all."

  Zeb Lok sighed heavily.

  "That's the other thing..."

  Alma Nine, Taron City, Weather Control Center, Yan Mil's Apartment

  Jack led the group off the elevator and onto the small landing. "This is it?" he asked, gesturing to a closed, white door.

  "That's it," Zeb Lok confirmed. "In the early days of the colony, Yan Mil was working so hard on perfecting his weather control system that he often decided to spend the night in the lab, sleeping on the floor. When Tor Val found out, she arranged for the top floor office to be converted into a small apartment for him to use."

  Adina pressed her ear to the door. "And he's been in there ever since his wife died?"

  Zeb Lok nodded. "No-one's seen, or heard from him."

  "Even with all the problems his own invention is causing?"

  "We're not sure he knows it’s down to his nanobots," said Zeb Lok. "We've called, sent messages, tried everything we can think of. But, we don't know whether he's getting them."

  "Well, that ends now," declared Tc'aarlat, taking a few steps back. "You want Yan Mil? I'll get you Yan Mil."

  "I'm not sure that's wise," warned Zeb Lok.

  But Tc'aarlat ignored him.

  He whistled to Mist, who flapped twice to cross the tiny landing area and sit on Adina's shoulder, then he turned side on to the apartment door...

  ...and charged.

  Tc'aarlat slammed into the door with a sickening crunch, bouncing back a short way as everyone else winced.

  "Fuck a fucking bistok!" he bellowed, staggering away from the still-closed door. "What the fuck is that thing made of?"

  "Yan Mil's apartment was originally a data storage room," said Zeb Lok. "The government installed special security doors as protection against any intruders who might want to access the servers without permission."

  Tc'aarlat stared at the scientist. "And you didn't think to tell me that before I tried to break it down?"

  "I wasn't aware you were going to hurl yourself directly at it," said Zeb Lok. "Trust me, if there was the slightest chance of getting inside by breaking the door down, we'd have already done it ourselves."

  "Well, as amusing as that was to watch, it doesn't get us any closer to speaking to Yan Mil," said Jack. "Can we drill the lock out?

  "Unfortunately not," said Zeb Lok. "The metal the lock is made of is designed to melt if it detects any attempt to tamper with it."

  "What about windows?" asked Adina. "Can we get in through one of those?"

  Zeb Lok shook his head again. "We thought of that," he said. "But we're seven floors up, and
the windows only open enough to allow air to vent in and out." He crossed to the window in the tiny hallway and turned the handle to demonstrate. The mechanism allowed it to open a gap of around eight inches wide.

  "Even if we had someone who could get up this high, they'd have to be small enough to fit through that gap. It's pretty much impossible."

  Adina smiled, reaching up to scratch the top of Mist's beak. "Nothing's impossible for The Freedom Squad!"

  Jack stared at her. "The who, now?"

  "Freedom Squad," Adina repeated. "I thought that might be a good name for us."

  "Only if we were all 12 years old and solved spooky mysteries from a treehouse in Tc'aarlat's back yard," Jack scoffed. "No, I think we can do better than that."

  "Whatever," said Adina. "My point is, if there's a window open, Mist could fly to it and squeeze through the gap."

  "And then what?" demanded Tc'aarlat. "Unlock the door from the inside? I know she's a smart bird, but there are limits to her abilities."

  "SQWARRR!"

  "It's not an insult!" Tc'aarlat countered to Mist. "You just don't have the equipment needed to work the lock."

  "SCURRR!"

  Adina waited patiently until Tc'aarlat had finished making his point. "Zeb Lok said the master key was likely to be in there with Yan Mil," she reminded him.

  Zeb Lok nodded. "He keeps his own key on a side table just inside the door. I imagine that's where he's put the master key as well."

  "So, we know where it's likely to be," continued Adina. "We can send Mist in to get it."

  "She can bring it back to us and we can open the door from the outside," finished Jack. "That's brilliant!"

  Tc'aarlat smiled. "I do my best..."

  "Not you," argued Jack. "It was Adina's idea."

  "And Mist is my hawk!"

  "It doesn't matter whose idea it was," said Adina. "We just have to hope one of the windows is open."

  Zeb Lok pulled a handheld communicator from his pocket and flipped it open. “Jal Fen,” he said into the device's microphone. "Can you check if any of the windows in Yan Mil's apartment are open, please?"

  A tinny voice responded. "Will do. One moment..."

  The group waited anxiously, all hoping they might have finally hit upon a plan to get inside and quiz Yan Mil for a way to regain control of the rogue nanobots.

  "Zeb Lok..." hissed the communicator after a short while.

  "Well?"

  "One of the apartment windows is open to its full extent."

  "Yes!" exclaimed Adina. She turned her head towards Mist, sitting patiently on her shoulder. "You know what to do?"

  "Hang on," protested Tc'aarlat. "She's my hawk, remember?"

  "OK, go on..." sighed Adina with a shake of her head.

  Tc'aarlat stepped up to face the Raal hawk. "You know what to do?"

  "SKERRR!"

  Tc'aarlat nodded earnestly. "She's good."

  Adina crossed to the window. Outside, the icy wind was still whipping the snow into freezing white vortices. Mist ruffled her feathers, plumping them out against the cold air blasting in through the gap between the window's glass and frame.

  "Will you be OK out there?" Adina questioned.

  Mist purred softly in Adina's ear, then leapt through the window and disappeared into the storm beyond.

  Alma Nine, Taron City, Weather Control Center, Front Steps

  Bundled up against the fierce snowstorm, Jal Fen peered through his binoculars at the lone open window of Yan Mil's top floor apartment.

  It was, in fact, the only window currently open in the entire building now that Adina had slammed hers shut again.

  He could just about make out Mist's red feathers high in the blizzard above him; the only patch of color in an otherwise world of white. Buffeted by the pounding winds, the Raal hawk fought against the elements to reach the open window.

  Once there, Mist paused on the ledge outside, presumably to catch her breath and regain her strength, then she disappeared into the leading scientist's locked and sealed apartment.

  Less than a minute later, she was back - and she had something clenched tightly in her beak. Something credit card sized, and a bright, vibrant green in color.

  Jal Fen knew exactly what this was from the identical object tucked into one of his own pockets.

  It was the key to a door inside the building.

  The key to accessing Yan Mil.

  Alma Nine, Taron City, Weather Control Center, Yan Mil's Apartment

  Mist landed awkwardly on the ledge outside the window the nervous group were waiting at, a gust of wind almost blowing her back in the direction she had appeared from.

  "There she is!" proclaimed Tc'aarlat as his precious partner's jet black eyes peered through the toughened glass and met his own.

  Adina twisted the handle and swung the window open as far as it would go. Jack reached through the gap, grabbed hold of Mist, and hauled her back inside.

  In all the months he'd known and worked with Tc'aarlat, this was the first time he'd ever touched his hawk. She felt much smaller in his hands than he had anticipated, and she was shivering hard.

  "That's the key!" cried Zeb Lok, taking the plastic card from Mist's beak. "She did it!"

  "She certainly did!" beamed Tc'aarlat, reaching out to take Mist himself, but Jack already had her tucked inside his own coat, holding her against his chest in an effort to reward the successful conclusion of her risky assignment with some much needed warmth.

  Tc'aarlat's wide eyed and wide mandibiled look of surprise was only outdone by that of Adina. Without the mandibles, of course.

  "I never thought I'd see the day," he breathed.

  "Nor me," said Adina with a shake of her head. "She's not trying to bite his nipples off, or anything."

  Jack frowned at his fellow crew members. "Don't get the wrong idea," he warned. "This isn't the two of us bonding in any way. It's simply the easiest method for providing warmth to a colleague in dire risk of hypothermia."

  A muffled caw came from beneath the Captain's coat as if to confirm his words.

  "We're in!" exclaimed Zeb Lok as the door to the apartment opened with a satisfying click. "You guys ready?"

  Jack, Adina and Tc'aarlat all nodded as Zeb Lok pushed open the apartment door and stepped inside.

  Aside from Zeb Lok, none of them knew exactly what to expect the inside of Yan Mil's accommodation to look like, so the choice of decor came as something of a surprise.

  The walls were painted a soft mint green, which complemented the thick, grey carpets beautifully. All the furniture was built from dark wood, the delicate grain of which matched the thick frames of the exquisitely chosen pieces of art hanging on the walls.

  Many of the paintings had fallen to the floor due to the surges in gravity, their glass fronts now shattered. Yet, under the subtle hidden lighting, even they appeared to have been purposely placed there in an effort to add to the overall design.

  "This is amazing!" hissed Adina, her eyes sweeping the sumptuously fitted apartment. "I'd give your left nut to live in a place like this."

  "She's right," said Tc'aarlat. "This place doesn't exactly scream 'geeky science nerd', does it?

  Despite the urgency of the situation, Zeb Lok chuckled. "It was at first," he told the group. "A fold out cot, a wobbly chair and an old card table covered with ripped and stained fabric."

  Tc'aarlat tried to picture the apartment's original style. "So, what happened?"

  "His wife happened," Zeb Lok replied. "Once Vix Mil got a look inside the place, she kicked him out for a week and had the place redecorated at her own expense."

  "Sounds like a wonderful woman," Jack commented.

  The sadness showed in Zeb Lok's eyes. "She was."

  A few seconds of silence followed, broken by Tc'aarlat. "So, where is this weather genius of yours?"

  "Most likely in his study," replied Zeb Lok, taking a left turn and leading the group along a short corridor.

  "Yan Mil," he called o
ut as he reached for the door handle. "It's Zeb Lok, and some friends. Don't be alarmed when we come in."

  Twisting the handle, Zeb Lok swung open the doorway to the apartment's study and froze.

  Jack, Tc'aarlat and Adina stopped quickly behind him.

  "Oh, shit!" croaked Adina.

  There, hanging by the neck from a length of computer cable, was the dead body of Yan Mil.

  24

  Alma Nine, Taron City, Weather Control Center, Yan Mil's Apartment

  Jack turned to Zeb Lok. "Are you OK?" he asked softly.

  The Malatian didn't reply. Instead he continued gazing up at the face of his deceased superior. The normally teal colored skin now a deep avocado green, the swollen tongue hanging limply from between bloated lips, the eyes - still open - bulging wildly from their sockets.

  Adina placed a hand on the scientist's arm. "Come on, I think you should sit down in another room.

  But Zeb Lok brushed her hand away. "I knew he was hurting," he said, his throat suddenly dry. "I knew he missed her. I just didn't think it was this bad. I was his friend. If I'd known..."

  "You couldn't have done anything," Jack reassured him. "No-one could."

  "But, if I'd got him talking..."

  "He locked himself away," Jack reminded him. "You tried everything possible to get through to him and check he was OK. He didn't want help."

  "Is there a note?" Zeb Lok asked, still not looking away from Yan Mil. "Did he leave anything?"

  Tc'aarlat and Adina exchanged a glance then turned, eyes scouring each and every surface around the room. But, there was nothing to see.

  "I'm afraid not," said Adina. "He may not have wanted to-"

  "Wait a minute," said Tc'aarlat, interrupting her. "There a red light flashing on his computer. Is that anything?"

  Finally, Zeb Lok tore his gaze away from the corpse. He looked over at Yan Mil's personal computer, seemingly struggling to focus for a moment.

  "It means there's a live file on the system," he said.

  Stepping over to the computer, he reached out and tapped a button on the keyboard. The screen lit up instantly, the Weather Control Center logo vanishing to be replaced with the face of Yan Mil.