System Seven

by Parks, Michael

  Austin smiled despite his nerves. The ship hovered fifteen thousand feet over Mount Chokai, Japan. Memory of the AG ramming played over and over.

  “You sure you’re okay with this?” Anki asked him.

  “I’ve got it, yeah. I’ll be fine.”

  “And you’re ready?”

  “Yep.”

  “Okay... here goes.”

  The hatch opened to reveal early evening skies. Austin peered over the edge. Mount Chokai protruded from the earth as his marker. Returning with Ryota, he need only get to the mountain and go straight up for the rendezvous.

  Johan checked his watch. “Give me two minutes from my signal. If you don’t see him on the patio by then, go in and get him.”

  Anki looked in his direction from the command chair. “Make it back, okay? I don’t want Kaiya hating me forever.”

  Austin smiled. “No worries. I’ll be right back.”

  He stood at the very edge, hands on the ship’s hull. The earth shone below in high resolution. For a moment he was fifteen again, feeling resentment at his mother’s objection to him skydiving. His dad had okay’d it, but she wouldn’t allow it.

  “You can change your mind, Austin,” Anki said once more.

  “It’s alright. I’ve got this.”

  With that, he tipped forward and fell into the gravity of the planet – his first real skydive.

  He split the blue sky at terminal velocity, falling towards the mountain without effort. For one long minute he fell – time enough to imagine nothing had happened the way it had and that this was just another fun activity while on vacation in Hawaii; that four cities hadn’t been destroyed by nukes he’d failed to stop and that his mind was as isolated as he remembered growing up. Best of all was imagining Kaiya waiting for him below.

  As the earth loomed closer, he envisioned a sunny afternoon swimming by her side, lunch on the veranda, making love before dinnertime... until the vision shifted to a fiery mass swallowing the island – a nuclear bomb flown in a light plane and detonated over the southern end of Oahu. The Comannda would never stop until their ship was in their control or destroyed–

  What the fuck – pull up PULL UP!

  Individual trees and boulders on the mountain’s peaks came into sudden focus. Intention engaged like steel gears and he arced down the side of the mountain in a powered curve that brought him up again to level flight.

  Zone out again and you’ll get yourself killed.

  Shaken and embarrassed, he corrected altitude and barreled on towards Sendai City.

  He passed over the industrial districts following a rail line until he spotted the sprawling hub of Sendai Station in the downtown district. The Hotel Metropolitan Sendai towered over the rail depot, gleaming white-gray in the gathering dusk. From two thousand feet, he stared down over the patio gardens of Ryota’s fifth floor suite.

  Johan signaled. I’m going in.

  Austin dropped lower and cued intention. The patio’s oversized fronds and fanned-out ferns created natural cover. In the far corner, he made out two people sitting in lawn chairs. If the boy rushed out, he had seconds only to manage those two and anyone else who came from the suite.

  Time passed. Half a minute. He squinted to keep the sliding door to the suite in focus. A train pulled away from the station on its way south. One of the men on the veranda stood and stretched. The lights on the patio flickered on.

  A minute. The yellow duck feeling returned.

  “C’mon...”

  He hovered, willing the boy to emerge. Coming up on two minutes... too long. On the verge of action, a bump from Johan: I’m outside in the service parking lot. Grab me.

  A small figure dressed in blue ran around a truck to hide between it and a concrete wall. Austin swept down in a rush, touching the ground to scoop him up. The little guy wore pajamas and slippers and looked like he should be watching cartoons at home, not running for his life, controlled by another human being.

  He unzipped the suit and allowed the boy to wrap around his torso like a monkey. He stretched the fabric to zip it closed again.

  “Hang on.”

  They boosted up and outward then, lining up on the distant form of Mount Chokai. Its summit glowed in the last rays of the sun. Relief and excitement mingled at the thought of reuniting Ryota with his old self. A sense of accomplishment made the flight that much sweeter.

  The feeling lasted exactly eight seconds.

  Trap after all. Anki’s on the move. AG’s swarming. Get us down, now.

  He dove, scanning as he went. Panic led the hunt for a safe path. Dusk contrasted with the lights of the city to make it harder to see what lay below. To his left, the unmistakable patterns of a golf course stood out. He closed the gap in a burst, passing over a hotel and eyeing the farthest edges of the course.

  He set down near a stand of trees and burrowed a hole in the grass big enough to slip into. “In we go.” He dropped in then pressed the earth to form a small cave. They slid further down into its darkness.

  Austin couldn’t help his anger. “If we get out of this one, I swear to God I’ll never follow your half-assed plans again. By the Lord of the Wood, the Lady of the Stars, and Humpty Dumpty’s broken ass, I swear it.”

  Ryota’s voice was small in the darkness. “Anki’s taken them for a chase but there are still ships searching the city. I’m giving Ryota his body now. Keep him calm. I’ll send someone for you.”

  “Poor kid’s going to be scarred for life. Probably doesn’t know dreams from reality at this point.”

  “At least he’ll have a lifetime to figure it out. Hang on. I’m going for it.”

  “Tell him it’s going to be pitch black.”

  “Right.”

  Austin unzipped the suit and found the little boy’s hand. Moments later it went slack, then jerked and the boy cried out.

  “It’s okay Ryota, you’re okay. We’re just hiding in the dark. Relax.”

  “Where are the bad men?” His little voice carried fear.

  “Not here, Ryota, not here. They’re looking for us but we’ll be okay. We’ll be just fine. Help is coming.”

  Help better be coming, he thought to himself.

  Twenty minutes later, lawn sprinklers split the silence. The white noise became a symphony playing outside their hiding hole. Ryota lay in a ball in his lap. The moist earth soaked through to his pants but he didn’t care. Waiting only made him more anxious.

  Johan finally returned. Get ready. Hatch will open at the hole.

  He barely had time to stand before reality split open above them to reveal the ship’s interior. Anki had the ship at an angle to receive them. Johan stood there ready to help them up.

  He rose with the boy in his arms and cleared the hole. Before landing on the ship’s floor, he saw a golf cart rolling not twenty yards off.

  “Close it, quick!”

  It closed and Anki pulled the ship away. “What was it?” She looked at the screens. “Oh shit! How did I miss him?”

  “I think someone’s gonna have a helluva story to tell about that hole in the ground.”

  Before returning to Martin’s in Velletri, they flew up to the Astra satellite to check on the blog. They found a new entry.

  The angry king plots this night

  Revenge colors morning light

  Blooming fire in the city

  So many lives, so much pity

  “Oh god,” Anki said.

  “Which city?” Austin asked, frustrated. “Can’t she do something?”

  Johan set the laptop aside. “It’s beyond her. She can’t break ranks.”

  “I told you. I told you.” Anki pulled the ship away and set a mark for Velletri. She didn’t hide her displeasure. “When will you listen to me?”

  • • •

  The barn doors opened to receive them, pushed by the two guards. Standing just inside was Martin. He met them as they climbed out.

  “Cathbad has ordered you separated. Johan, Anki, there’s a car waiting f
or you. Austin, I’ve got coordinates and instructions for you. You’ll take the craft with Bario here.”

  Johan glanced at the two guards. “And if we don’t want to split up?”

  The old druid shook his head in disappointment. Before he could speak, Anki left Johan’s side to join him.

  She looked at Johan with conviction. “We’ll go.”

  When he didn’t reply, she said to Austin. “It’s time to get with the program before we really screw things up.”

  Chapter 27

  All things come to him that waits - provided he knows what he is waiting for.

  - Woodrow T. Wilson, 1856-1924, Twenty-eighth U.S. President

  Austin hefted his duffle bag over his shoulder.

  “Thanks, Niko.”

  “See you in the morning.”

  The beat-up station wagon pulled away in a u-turn. He watched until its taillights disappeared around a bend in the road. The night sky beckoned from behind a blanket of clouds, hidden but still expansive. Knowledge of life throughout the galaxies made the planet under his feet feel tiny. Remembering that alien species might be as devious as humans left him frightened for Earth. He fingered the ship’s remote and thought about the blogger’s message. If true, tomorrow would be a fucker of a day and it was again partly his fault. Guilt shadowed his every thought. It had to stop and soon.

  He started up the stone walkway. The sprawling two-story villa sat amidst rolling olive orchards on the Greek island of Corfu. He counted four garage doors and at least three decks. A pool glowed in between shrubs.

  At the door a portly, tan-skinned gentleman in his sixties appeared. Gus Apostolos welcomed him with a gravel baritone voice.

  “Long time, my nephew from America. You look great. Come in, Tasia will take your things.”

  If Gus feared taking in one of the most wanted men in the world, he didn’t let on. Despite his resemblance to a crime boss, his warmth was genuine and his vibe relaxed. A thin, dark-haired woman took his duffle bag and jacket and disappeared. They strolled into a home of white stucco and earth-tone tile.

  “You’re tired and hungry.” He gestured down a hall. “There’s something ready for you in the kitchen. Tasia will take you to your room when you’re ready. There is a spa and sauna and a pool if you want them.” He stopped and faced Austin. “I’m told a method for monitoring the web page has been found so the long trip up won’t be needed. I need the remote. Scientists will arrive soon to continue studying the ship.”

  Austin gauged the man.

  “It won’t go anywhere, you have my word. They need to study it more.”

  Trust was possible. He handed him the remote.

  “I have business tonight but we’ll talk in the morning. Welcome. Be at peace and relax.”

  Austin devoured a plate of fish. He had to ask Tasia what kind.

  “Mediterranean red-mullet. You never had?”

  “Never had. Delicious.”

  He retired to the adjacent living room with a glass of wine and turned on the television. He couldn’t help but tune into the news. Another airliner down, outside Detroit. Large bombs in Amsterdam and Los Angeles had killed more than four hundred people. Our hometowns. A new terrorist group had claimed responsibility. Pakistan’s military had taken charge of the country, its intentions unclear. Tensions between Israel and both Iraq and Iran had flared to the point nuclear exchanges were feared.

  He turned the television off. There was more but it was too much. Sitting at the tip of so much death made him sick with guilt. The High Comannda were pressuring the families to turn over the Change and return their ship.

  He closed his eyes and worked hard to put down rising anger. Vividly, he imagined Bastion’s severed head falling, slow motion, and him drop-kicking it into a blazing campfire by the sea. Instead there was nothing to do but wait. Anything else would risk losing the opportunities that lay ahead. That truth had been hard earned. Still, to have so much raw power at his fingertips and not use it to fight back grated against every instinct he had. He opened his eyes and thought of Maria. If she came through he might have a chance to stop the campaign of death.

  He finished his wine and rinsed his glass in the kitchen. Tasia watched from a chair in the hallway. Probably in her late forties, as unreadable as stone except for her servitude. She reminded him of Williams at Shamrock but without the outgoing spirit.

  “That’s it for me.”

  She gave a small smile and led the way upstairs to his room before disappearing down the hall.

  The room was more a small suite with couches, sink, and wine cooler. A slider led to an attached sun balcony. A PC and printer sat on a narrow desk. He couldn’t shake the images of the bomb damage back home or of the ring of fire at Montevideo. More and more people dying. Because of him.

  Again he thought of his dad.

  He went to the cooler and poured another glass of wine with the notion of truly dulling the guilt and anxiety. Dad, dead or alive...? That he couldn’t feel him at all hurt. Good guy or bad guy? To even have the thought was crushing. What the past held was a mystery. Anything was possible.

  He drank half his glass in one lift, filled it again, and stepped out onto the balcony. A probing wind stirred an otherwise serene night. Rows of olive trees stretched away in the dark. A pair of headlights wound along a distant hill.

  He tried to empty his mind and succeeded only in emptying his glass.

  • • •

  The thrum of engines below decks sounded like music, a powerful beat of physical freedom. Maria stood in the galley and poured a drink. Her guards kept watch outside as the sixty-four foot luxury trawler Dionysios left Port Alacati headed for the Aegean Sea.

  She padded barefoot towards the couch and stopped to look out at the lights of the remote Alacati Resort. The dark waters and clouds overhead swallowed everything around the resort – it could have been a space station in a lonely patch of space and Dionysios a small shuttle departing. She suppressed profound relief at being clear of the Core but deep down her feet tingled. This very ship helped avoid what could have been an unpleasant outcome with Bastion.

  Her encounter with the god Dionysus held lingering emotions that Bastion had alerted to. He’d labeled them subversive. She convinced him that when she had laid down to rest, her last thoughts were of leaving for home on her boat and that she remembered only the sexual experience with the Greek god. Purely a random dream. Any residual emotions were complex and beyond her control. She even managed to chide him for his paranoia.

  She feared it had been one of those ‘roles of your life’ moments that if she hadn’t given her all she wouldn’t be on her way back home.

  Under the dimmed cabin lights she curled on the couch and pulled a blanket over her lap. She sipped her wine and closed her eyes. The additional protection she’d ordered to ward off suspicion made conducting intrigue much harder. She managed to reach out and see how Samantha was doing. The old woman was fine, unmonitored and untouched. Adding to her concerns was the possibility that Bastion might not actually come. If so, all her posing and plotting would be for naught.

  Her interaction with Bastion before leaving the Core would have him appearing in Mykonos for a lusty reunion. The fascination he still held for her would finally serve a useful purpose. She opened her eyes in response to a troubling thought: what if Bastion did not wait for her to return to Mykonos? A seven hour cruise... he might not be able to hold off. It would be just like him to yank open the door once unlocked and rendezvous by sea instead.

  She reached out once more and conveyed a message for Samantha, modified for the circumstances. The autistic received it via the ‘special place’ she always looked to for inspiration in her writing. No matter the hour or present activity, she would drop everything to post to her blog.

  She breathed deeply and raised her glass for a sip.

  The druids would check the page. They had better be prepared to act. Fucking Bastion for nothing would really piss her off – worse if
it happened while on her beloved Dionysios.

  • • •

  “It’s unthinkable she would give us her position,” Sean said, pacing the room. “We’re talking one of the twelve.”

  “It’s either a measure of her solidarity with us or it’s a ruse,” Cathbad said.

  Fire flickered behind the glass insert of the woodstove, a magnet for his gaze. There was little else in the second story apartment to look at. Pizza cartons and wine bottles from the rural pub and pizzeria next door lay on the wicker coffee table. An ancient television’s rabbit ears angled towards the front door, the set itself unplugged. They were south of Rome in a dingy apartment complex tucked amid the many small family orchards and vineyards. A chill braced the countryside and pressed through thin walls. He tipped his wineglass and drank deeply, engaged in the primal input of the physical.

  Johan lay in one of the bedrooms working with bràthair to locate the ‘god-like ship’ departing ‘the thanksgiving bird’ en route to ‘the party island’. They’d already located the estate described in the blog entry, a hilltop affair overlooking the northern sea inlet on Mykonos. Property records showed it belonged to a Greek shipping corporation.

  The blog’s latest suggestion that Maria might be intercepted by Bastion at sea required they try to find and track her ship somewhere between Turkey and the island.

  “It could be a ruse, yes,” Sean said. “But Clare read nothing of that.”

  Cathbad nodded slowly, a kind of shrug. “If she’s sincere about wanting to remove Bastion, she needs to draw him out of the Core. I suspect we’ll soon have a better feel of what she’s up to.”

  Sean came around to face the old druid.

  Cathbad looked up. “What?” he asked, then knew. He straightened in his chair. “No, no, I’m fine. Don’t start with the nurse routine. I’m slowing down, what do you expect?”

  “Worse than slowing. You shouldn’t be here. A driver will take you back to Hastings for treatment.”