System Seven

by Parks, Michael

  He forced air across his vocal chords just to experience change. The mournful sound matched the useless feeling that had taken hold. Distantly he knew the apathetic state was a form of surrender. He stirred and opened his eyes, unwilling to give in. The sand flow mesmerized, encouraging inaction. He started to chant. Long, measured intonations to restore a sense of control. Should an opportunity come, he had to be empowered and sharp enough to act.

  Distant dunes restored spatial clarity, reminding him of Raon and of his meta presence. Even in such a solidly crafted bubble, something of his meta had to exist. Knowledge of that existence proved an irrefutable reinforcement.

  The chant morphed into a muttered declaration: “I am alive.”

  Silence followed. He drew out each word again.

  “I. Am. Alive.”

  The desert suddenly filled with the sense of another. From absence to singular otherness, the difference was unmistakable. He clambered to his feet and turned in a circle, scanning.

  Nothing seen, yet the feeling remained. Someone was in the world with him.

  He prepared to sit again when he saw a dark patch at the bottom of the dune. He descended, dashing sand in great leaps before falling and rolling several times. He approached a brown patch and caught a glimpse of a hooded face. Close in, the beard was unmistakably that of old Cathbad.

  He fell to his knees and brushed sand away. “Cathbad!”

  The old man opened his eyes, squinting. He frowned upon seeing Johan. “I’m coming to understand your gift, Gerrit.”

  “You are, huh?” Johan scooped sand away from his head and shoulders. “And what is it?”

  “Your greatest gift,” he spat sand, “is finding trouble.”

  Johan reached under to help lift Cathbad to a sitting position. “I thought you already knew.”

  “I’m sure of it now.”

  Johan finished clearing sand from Cathbad’s legs and sat next to him. “Here to rescue me, are you?” At the druid’s glance, he said, “You tried, didn’t you? Yes, well nice thought anyway. Any idea where we are?”

  “In the belly of a beast, it seems. I think we’ve been taken in by a dark horse.”

  “What do you mean?”

  Cathbad shrugged and looked up at the dunes. “Bastion’s managed an extraordinary advance with his korjé. He’s taken the lead.”

  “Why did you come then?”

  “Things are falling apart. Without you, the Words fail.”

  “Well, I can’t do a damn thing here and now you’re stuck, too.”

  “Yes. It feels quite absolute, doesn’t it? “ Cathbad paused. “Then all we can do is explore.”

  “There’s nothing but desert and sky. Not a seam anywhere. I’ve tried and tried.”

  Cathbad shook his head. “I mean explore the beast, not the belly.”

  Johan looked downwind. His shadow fell predictably stark against the sunlit sand. Blue sky met dunes in a sloping line across the horizon. Cathbad was right, the holders of the dream were directly accessible by the very nature of their position of control. They could not ignore the pair despite the illusion of desolation. The challenge was to find the right message to ignite contact. Contact could lead to clues to their methods.

  “No need to waste time with introductions. Either they’ll be interested in also helping us or they won’t be. We can only try.”

  “Given that, might we surmise they aren’t?” Johan gestured to the dunes. “We’re still here.”

  “We’ve not begun, have we?” His glance was sour. Hope did not like being stepped on.

  Johan turned to him and bowed. “Then lead the way.”

  “No. I think you should. You’re much better at arresting attention.”

  Johan managed a smile. “Of course. Being the Change and all. Well then, we start by filing a compliment.” He faced the sun. Through squinted eyes, he focused on what he couldn’t see. “Um, greetings captors and fellow sentients. We are humbled in your presence. Your mastery of Saoghal is complete and awe inspiring.”

  Cathbad grunted at the sarcasm in his tone.

  It was pure defense, masking his fear. He set it aside and let seriousness settle in. Emotions rose, real feelings.

  “I do not know why you’ve chosen to work with the Comannda or what else you may have done to the people of our planet, but I know you understand why I seek your counsel.”

  Sand blew in familiar patterns from the soulless wind. Nothing changed. He coughed in the sameness. Confidence glitched. Cathbad stared up at him.

  He lowered his head. Truth would have to suffice.

  “Until recently, I had assumed that people capable of reading minds and dream walking would tend to be of a higher moral fiber, that they would have somehow evolved beyond the primal flaws found in most men. Why I imagined standards so high I don’t know. Maybe wishful thinking after watching technology evolve without people also evolving. I wanted to believe there was hope for us, that we had room to grow. Well, this is my wake up call. The human mind has been exploited like another technology. You’re working with the Council and proving that humans are still quite capable of being flawed despite possessing such great knowledge.”

  The desert’s vibe held nothing except his and Cathbad’s meta pulse. Emotions carried away in the wind.

  Johan turned from the sun to stare at his shadow. “While you sit behind the walls of this... this container and listen to me ramble, billions of souls are wrapped up in a play machine for the Comannda and its privileged minority. The Council has controlled its slaves for four millennia. Slaves like you. Now, with your effort, our world tips towards a new kind of hell.” He stared at the horizon, at the line between sky and sand... and he became the seam there – pressed against the face of whoever was holding them. “Tell me you don’t think there’s a better way.”

  The edges of reality shimmered and he caught the first hint of others. Focus snapped back to the mundane heat and sun and drying wind. The horizon remained the same.

  “You had something there,” Cathbad called out.

  He had. Or was given the thought he had. For a long time he stood, awaiting a response.

  None came.

  He shuffled back and sat down heavily.

  “Not bad for a first try,” Cathbad offered.

  “Perhaps.”

  The desert continued to bake them. Heat lulled, slowing thoughts.

  Was it imagination that he felt tired? He entertained the feeling and laid down with his back to the flowing sand. Whatever the reason, it felt good to imagine being close to falling asleep. So good.

  He emerged from the darkness to a neck cramp. With his eyes still closed, he felt the sand beneath him and then, vividly, felt awkward – something was missing, the absence of it alarming.

  His eyes flicked open. He realized what it was: the sand flow was gone. The wind had died. He pushed into a sitting position. Something else, too, bothered him.

  Cathbad looked over. “Long nap. Did you dream?”

  The shadows. He looked up and saw the sun hung at a new angle.

  “What’s the matter, man? What is it?”

  Johan explained the unchanging nature of the world and the sudden change. And his unexpected sleep.

  “That’s progress. Maybe you did make an impact. Tell me, did you dream?”

  Had he? He couldn’t remember falling asleep, only waking from it.

  “You should try to reach them again.”

  Johan looked past Cathbad to the top of the nearest dune. A single figure stood looking down. Tan like the desert, the sandman was soon joined by four others.

  “No need. Looks like they’re reaching out to us.”

  At the prompting of the sandmen, Johan and Cathbad climbed the dune and were rewarded with a view of a stone oasis floating over the valley between dunes. A path made of stepping stones led out to two monolith slabs that created the platform. The top slab hovered above the lower one to create shade. Raised stone benches surrounded a shallow pool
set into the center. The tan figures sat and waited for the pair to join them.

  “What’s your reading?” Johan asked Cathbad as they took the path towards shade.

  “None. You?”

  “Not a ripple. This is all very primitive.”

  Under the stone roof, the temperature plummeted to a tropical feel. The druids pulled back their hoods and knelt at the pool without hesitation. They cupped cool water and drank until their biting thirst eased. Close up, the sandmen’s features were plain and the result of indentations, not actual eyes or noses. One spoke, the mouth feature’s movement merely symbolic, the voice paradoxically mellifluous.

  “The Council are again jeopardizing balance with their imperfect approach to oversight. We recognize their approach as flawed and incongruous to the needs of our species. It is our task to act on behalf of the world’s best interests. To that end, we have agreed to support Maria’s plans with your group.”

  Cathbad sat back on his haunches and wiped his beard dry. “Who are you? How many?” he asked.

  “You need only know we share the goal of removing the council and restoring Maria to power.”

  “She’s still alive?” Johan asked.

  “Yes.”

  Johan shared a glance with Cathbad before turning back. “If you want our trust, we need to know who we’re dealing with and why.”

  “You want ideology and purpose. You want assurances. You will not receive that. Either join in achieving the agreed goal or forfeit your chances at resuming your lives. We have already made contact with your peers. The opportunity to act is now.”

  “Who have you contacted?” Cathbad asked.

  “The one you trust most, of course. Edward.”

  Cathbad’s eyes showed his concern.

  Johan said, “The plan was to remove Bastion. You want the whole council gone? And Maria saved, I presume?”

  “All the council except three gone, yes. We will save Maria.”

  “Uh huh. Okay.” Johan said to Cathbad, “At this point do you see a choice? Because I don’t.”

  “How do we proceed?” Cathbad asked the sand men.

  “You will be facilitated. Let us discuss the details.”

  The two men shared an uncertain glance.

  • • •

  Mr. Lathrop walked into the lab where Soldado had set up shop and home. Styrofoam cups and food containers littered the surrounding tables.

  “And?” he asked the hacker.

  Soldado stared at the flickering stats of Booty as it massaged the algorithms driving Overseer’s encryption sequences. So far five different encryption models had been found on the Comannda’s global networks, suggesting a ‘protection by segmentation’ technique. Each model had been broken using the second version of Booty. By combining analysis data on all five models, they had located several network routes to the base. A sixth encryption model presented itself that looked nothing like the others. Booty2 was at the entrance to the Core, probing it for a way in.

  “Still spaghetti, but at least the combiners on the distribution equations are latching on to some matches. The deterministic generator is adapting and making progress.”

  “Time?”

  He threw up his hands. “Could be any second, could be hours.” He didn’t say days but it stood as being possible. “If I can think of anything to change I will, but based on what I see, this is the best approach there is.”

  Mr. Lathrop cleared a spot on the edge of a table and sat.

  Soldado noticed his expression. “What is it?”

  “They’re in-country. Heading for Qatar.”

  “Why the fuck? They found the building? What happened to waiting for the network?”

  “The family is scattering. Cathbad and Johan are captured.”

  “Oh Padre Pio... madre mia. Fuck a duck. What does that even mean?” He sat up in his chair. “And sending Austin in alone? Now who’s gone crazy?”

  “Not alone. With a team. Bràthair found the depot and a tunnel leading into the desert. It dead ends, though. They’re jamming remote viewing past a certain point. The team is going to see what they can find out there first. If nothing, they’ll have to make entry at the depot and see where it leads. So you have time still.”

  “They’d better not do anything without more intel. We need to monitor the networks, see what they’re planning–”

  “Exactly.” Lathrop removed his glasses. “We need to get into the base’s control network.”

  He expelled a breath. “Then we wait for Booty2. No one’s gettin’ into that castle without some keys.”

  “We’ll wait as long as it takes them to find the best way in.”

  “I don’t like it. Might as well walk them into a bear trap.”

  “The luxury of time just isn’t ours.”

  • • •

  The road lay flat and straight alongside power lines feeding Pearl City. Wires between the massive skeletal towers hung like the clotheslines of giants. A tired Cessna Skymaster sat on the road surrounded by the gray-white Kuwaiti desert. A blindfolded pilot waited at the controls while a man sat watch in the co-pilot’s seat.

  Outside, a third man paced under the wing. Occasionally he stepped out and looked skyward, his white robe flowing in the morning wind.

  He glanced at his watch and shook his head.

  “Salam.”

  The man jumped at the voice and spun. “Jesus Christ! Give me a fucking heart attack.”

  “You knew I was coming, Javier. What the hell?”

  “Whatever.”

  Austin stood at the open wedge of the cloaked ship’s hatch. He’d never seen his former trainer caught so off guard.

  The druid went to the side door of the Cessna and knocked twice. The man in the co-pilot’s seat emerged with a duffle bag. Like Austin, the pair wore Kevlar armor and holstered weapons under their robes.

  Austin shook his head. “Meng, are you sure you shifted? ‘Cuz I still don’t sense a trace of personality.”

  The Asian-turned-Arabian flipped him the bird.

  “Let’s go,” Javier said and climbed in. “I’m sick of this robe.”

  They hung low over the desert a mile from the runways of Al Uleid airbase outside downtown Doha. Rows of aircraft lined the tarmac with the most prominent being five B2 bombers at one end. Ground crews worked around three of them.

  Austin zoomed the camera to one of the black craft. “Arming teams?”

  “Yeah,” Javier said. “Sixteen units each.”

  “Nukes?”

  Javier nodded.

  “You’re sure the beam won’t accidentally set off the bombs?”

  “That’s what I’m told. Hopefully we won’t have to intervene.”

  Austin zoomed out and rubbed his face. Just another of a number of scenarios requiring monitoring. The effort was taxing the fragmented Runa Korda. Preventing attacks on cities remained the highest priority, followed closely by taking out Bastion and protecting the Confrere.

  “So Edward is in charge?”

  Javier nodded. “He’s regathering the Family.”

  “So soon?”

  “It’s the only way now. Too much on the line. Especially with this rig.”

  While at Corfu, Korda engineers had scoured the ship with better tools. They found and disabled a localized signal being broadcast. With a transmission radius of a mile, it was likely an anti-collision signal for other antigravity craft.

  “There’s the Orion,” Javier said, pointing at a screen. An orange blip entering the map from the east was an electronic surveillance aircraft. “He’ll scrub the skies for other AG craft using that signal. His orbit will keep us covered all the way to the gray zone.” He checked the time. “4pm local. Be ready, I expect a go message any time now.”

  Austin breathed deeper. Time. He thought of Puerto Vallarta and his half hour with Kaiya. Thoughts of her mom followed. Guilt burned like the ring of fire at Montevideo. Anger rose.

  Meng felt it. “Easy. Stay in your lane or
you’ll crash.”

  His early advice formed from the darkness... or you will drown in the pain of loss and of memory. He hadn’t warned about rage.

  “Sure.”

  “And there it is,” Javier said, responding to an inner message. “Soldado’s crack hasn’t worked yet. Without network access we don’t know what to expect. We’ll get inside the gray zone and see what we can see. If we don’t find access, we’ll be looking at an operation at the depot.”

  Doha’s skyline appeared as capacitors on a motherboard, rising tall in contrast to the barren land around them. Patches of dead grass along the roadways spoke of the failed attempt to transform the desert into something of an oasis. The only lasting change was the concrete and steel and that had little to do with the oasis theme. The theme of old, anyway.

  He slowed at the strange-shaped building at the center of a large coastal compound. Meng stood behind them, watching the screens.

  “Funky building alright. Looks like a shuriken. Easy access from the bay. High walls though,” Austin said. “Not much around it except those fancy mansions to the south. How much you wanna bet Commanda owns them?”

  “The driveway descends under the building. How wide is that?”

  “At least seven meters,” Meng answered.

  “And the tunnel?” Javier asked.

  “Bràthair estimate about the same.”

  “So worst case we fly straight in?” Austin said.

  Javier laughed. “And I thought I was the crazy one. Bring up the tunnel.”

  “I don’t give a shit how we go in. Just let me at ‘em.”

  The tunnel’s route set by bràthair showed as an overlay on screen.

  “Go ahead and follow this.”

  Austin took them two hundred miles south over desert before making a turn southwest.

  “There’s a junction building at the bend. Another tunnel connects to it from Jeddah on the west coast. They run bullet trains. Maglevs most likely although there are embedded rails, too.”

  Austin shook his head. “No wonder you never found it. This is bum fuck Egypt.”

  “You mean bum fuck Saudi Arabia. And yeah, the tunnels are a kilometer underground.”

  They bursted another thirty miles south and stopped at what the Bràthair called the gray zone. They simply couldn’t sense anything beyond it. Exploring the perimeter found it to be almost three miles in diameter.