Connor closed his eyes and tried to picture the faces of the Kemble family, trying to recall what they’d looked like when they’d set up home in the settlement. He remembered their names: Gail and Chris Kemble had been a sweet young couple and devoted to their two small children, Timmy and Sarah. But try as he might, Connor couldn’t recapture their carefree faces. In his mind’s eye, all he could see was the way they’d died.
The Kembles had got it into their heads that they could make it across the lowlands. They were sure they could branch out and find a better life beyond the hill. They’d evidently planned the whole thing, taking provisions and even stealing some suits from a storage locker. But they hadn’t understood the different grades of suit, and they hadn’t even known how to put them on correctly. So from the moment they’d climbed over the wall, the Kembles hadn’t stood a chance.
One of the patrol team up on the lookout had spotted the young family straight away, and Connor had reacted fast. Along with a handful of volunteers, he’d suited up and chased after the Kembles, but all his efforts had earned him was a ringside seat to a nightmare.
The Kembles had walked slowly, trudging across the sticky mat of grunge that coated the lowlands for miles in every direction, their heads turning from side to side like tourists taking in the view. Perhaps they’d been happy: excited to explore this new world. Perhaps they’d felt free for the first time in years. But they couldn’t have known that their dreams were about to unravel before their eyes.
The two children had been the first to feel the effects of the grunge. The adults had donned their flight suits and helmets, and that had given them some protection, but perhaps the Kemble children had outgrown the protective clothes they’d been issued with on the ship because the youngsters were wearing basic hazmat suits and respirators. Connor had often asked himself why. Hazmat suits were made from polyethylene, and surely, even back then, they’d all known that the grunge attacked plastic. But Connor would never discover what led the Kembles to be so impulsive.
On that terrible day he’d had run as fast as he could, but in front of his eyes, the children’s grunge-spattered suits had begun to fall apart, the thick plastic cracking, disintegrating as it was eaten away. And then the grunge must have swarmed in, creeping swiftly across the children’s skin. The grunge could metabolize any type of organic tissue, reproducing rapidly whenever it found a food supply. Getting even the slightest trace of grunge on your skin was like being scalded. For the Kemble children, with the grunge crawling freely over their young bodies, the pain must’ve been excruciating. When the children had cried out, their screams had been muffled by their respirators, but their parents had clearly heard them because they’d picked up their children, holding them close. And what had happened next was burned into Connor’s memory.
In a moment of blind panic, the adults must’ve thought their children’s respirators had failed, must’ve wanted desperately to save their kids. And while Connor’s team were just twenty yards away, racing across the grunge and yelling as loud as their lungs would allow, the adult Kembles had pulled off their own helmets and tried to fit them to their screaming children. A heartbeat. And then Gail and Chris Kemble had realized their mistake.
“Don’t blame yourself,” Parry said. He put his hand on Connor’s arm. “Come on. Have something to eat. You’ll feel better.”
Connor opened his eyes. “Sure. I’m fine. Don’t worry about it.” He concentrated on his food, forcing himself to take a bite of crow meat. He tore the flesh from the bone with his teeth, and while he chewed, he thought of Calum, Siobhan, and Helen waiting at home. Get it together, he told himself. You’re no use to anyone like this. He dropped the clean bone into the lunchbox and picked up a chunk of root bread. He really didn’t want it, but something told him he was going to need his strength. It was going to be a long day.
***
“Over there.” Parry pointed to their right. The sun was still below the horizon but the sky had already lightened a little, and Connor could just make out the gray-green shipping container nestling against the hillside, its color blending with the scree, as though it had always been there.
If only, Connor thought. It had taken thirty people working together to get the damned thing into position. Most of the freight containers had stayed safely in the main cargo bay until touchdown, but their craft’s descent through the planet’s atmosphere had been rough. Turbulence had battered the lander so hard Connor had been convinced the whole thing would fly apart. But all they’d lost was a door on a side bay, and even that hunk of tortured metal had stayed in place long enough to avert disaster. Only three containers had fallen from the side bay, and they still lay scattered on the hillside. Two had been damaged beyond repair and were later stripped down to make parts for the wall, but this one had remained intact, and with a bit of nudging to make it stable, it had turned out to be pretty useful.
Parry led the way across the slope. They were all used to walking on the loose stones now, and they moved quickly. Within two minutes they’d made it to the container, and the team waited while Connor unlocked the heavy padlock and heaved the metal door open.
“Let’s move fast, guys,” Connor said. “It’ll be light soon.”
The men filed inside then dropped their rucksacks and went straight to the crates where the suits were stowed. No one spoke. Each man focused on a silent ritual, checking and double-checking seals and seams. Connor inspected his EVA suit carefully for damage. The white fabric was multi-layered and incredibly tough. Designed for planetary exploration, the outer layers were made from a blend of the strongest fibers known, and fortunately, they were aluminized; if there was one thing the grunge didn’t care for, it was metal.
It all looks okay, Connor thought, but one day it’ll get a nick or a tear, and what then? He ran his hands over the fabric one last time. They had no way to repair the suits; when the last one wore out, there’d be no way to go beyond the wall, no matter what happened. They’d just have to stay on the hill and hope the wall held out. There’d be no other choice.
Connor removed his belt along with his hunting knife in its sheath and the sonic pistol in its holster. He checked the pistol over, making sure it was in safe mode and the cell was inserted correctly. It had been a while since he’d carried it, and the weapon felt heavy and awkward in his hands. He put it down on top of his empty crate, and when he looked up, he caught John watching him.
“Do you think we’ll need them?” John asked.
“I doubt it,” Connor replied, and now the men were all watching him, their eyes sharp as tacks. “I can’t rule it out though. We might need to show someone we mean business.”
“Too right,” John said.
“But we’ll only use weapons as a last resort,” Connor added. “I don’t want to get into a fight unless we can’t avoid it.”
“Got it,” Parry said, climbing into his EVA suit. “We’ll buddy up in a second and check everything’s sealed. John and Finn, you check each other. I’ll work with the boss.”
“Good plan.” Connor stripped down to his shorts and T-shirt then eased his legs into his suit and pushed his hands through the sleeves. Already, a layer of perspiration was clinging to his skin, but that should vanish once he activated the suit’s life support system. Providing the cooling circuit still works, he thought. The life support backpacks were kept on a rack at the back of the container, permanently connected to a photoelectric panel on the container’s roof. The patrol teams should’ve been testing them every week, but had they been rigorous in their duties? “Parry, do I need to check the life support units?”
“No. They should be good to go,” Parry replied. “I checked them three days ago. All fine.”
“Good man.” Connor rolled his shoulders and flexed his arms, getting used to the suit, then he fitted his boots and checked the ankle seals.
“Wait a minute, boss.” Parry squeezed past him, then returned carrying two life support backpacks. Between them, they fitted
each other’s backpacks and checked each other’s suits, paying special attention to the fastenings and seals. John did the same with Finn.
“If I were you I’d put your pistol in a pocket,” Parry said. “The holsters are a pain in the ass when you’re wearing gloves.”
“Okay.” Connor slipped his pistol into a pocket on his right leg and stowed his compact binoscanner in a pocket on his left, checking that both were secure. He left his knife in the crate; there was no easy way to carry it, and there was always a chance the blade might nick his suit.
“Your suit’s good to go,” Parry said. “Good job, boss. Old habits die hard, huh?”
“I guess so.” Connor licked his dry lips then pulled on his gloves and fastened the seals. “All right everybody—ready to fit helmets?”
“Yes, boss,” they chorused.
“Okay.” Connor took a deep breath; his last breath of fresh air for a few hours. “Finn, since you’re not armed, I want you to bring up the rear. Parry, you take point and find us a good place near the wall. I want to get a clear look at these people without being seen, okay?”
“Got it,” Parry said. “We’ll do the usual buddy checks after we seal the helmets.”
“Let’s do it.” Connor lowered his helmet over his head and listened to the reassuring click of the locks snapping into action. He ran his eyes over his helmet’s head-up display and cross-checked life support and comms with Parry, then he led the way back out onto the hillside. Parry closed the container door and Connor secured the padlock and pocketed the key.
A hiss of static crackled in Connor’s helmet but that was nothing unusual; the comms channel always picked up some kind of interference when they were out on the hillside, but although there were plenty of theories as to the cause, no one had been able to solve the problem.
“We’ll climb a little first,” Parry said, pointing. “I want to go around that rocky outcrop and then drop down to the wall.”
Connor gave him a thumbs up. “Go ahead.”
Parry started up the slope, setting a good pace despite his cumbersome suit, and Connor followed, with John close behind him and Finn trailing a little at the back. This is it, Connor told himself. We’re really going to do this. We’re really going to climb down to the wall.
CHAPTER 9
Truck One
LYNDSEY MADE HERSELF COMFORTABLE in the co-pilot’s seat, then turned to Alec. “Strap yourself in.”
Alec threw her a look, but he complied, snapping the buckles into place. “Ready when you are, ma’am.”
“You can drop that bullshit, Alec. It’s just you and me.”
“All right.” Alec hesitated. “Are you okay? I thought you looked tired earlier.”
She snorted under her breath. “I’ve been tired forever. But we do what we have to.”
“I guess so.” Alec looked her in the eye. “Before—when I got angry with Blaney—I hope you didn’t think…”
She met his gaze. “What, that you were being unprofessional?”
“No. That’s not what I meant. I just…” Alec shifted in his seat.
“It’s all right, Alec. I get it. You were defending me, and I don’t like that—not usually anyhow.”
“Right.” Alec gave her an uncertain smile. “I didn’t mean any disrespect.”
“Forget it,” Lyndsey said. “But just so you know, if you stick up for me once in a while, I won’t mind.” She gave him a grin. “I won’t mind at all.”
Alec laughed. “Seven years in the same damned truck and I still can’t figure you out.”
“I’m a woman, Alec. I can maintain an air of mystery indefinitely. It’s what the second X chromosome is for.”
“Okay, okay—let’s just start the engines shall we? It’s starting to get light.”
“Definitely.” Lyndsey sat back and tapped the comms panel to activate it. “This is Doctor Teare in truck one, to all pilots. By the numbers, report your truck’s status.”
Kyrksen answered first, his voice droning from the cockpit’s speakers: “Truck two. All systems operational. Pre-flight checks complete.”
Lyndsey listened carefully while the other pilots called in with almost identical messages, and she tried to gauge if there was any anxiety in their voices, but everyone sounded fine—excited even—and Lyndsey smiled to herself. This beats the hell out of running surveys and taking samples, she thought. And it’s a damned sight more fun than plowing through the stats and filing goddamned reports no one will ever read.
“Thanks, everyone,” she said. “Crissy, are your drones good to go?”
“Yes, they are,” Crissy replied. “All sonic disruptors are checked and operational. All terra-drones are ready to deploy.”
“Good work, Crissy. Launch them all now.”
A pause, then: “Truck one, please say again. How many drones do you want me to launch?”
“All of them,” Lyndsey answered. “Launch them all now, and keep them spread out along the fleet as we move, understood?”
“Yes, Doctor Teare. Deploying all drones now.”
“Listen up, pilots,” Lyndsey went on. “We’ll head out in a standard V formation with truck one in the lead. You all know your positions. Get ready to move.”
“Truck one, this is truck five. All drones are in the air.”
Lyndsey nodded at Alec, and he leaned over the controls, his hands hovering over the touch panels. “All units, this is Captain Stevens in truck one,” Alec said. “Start your vehicles and give me a height of ten feet, then wait for instructions.” His fingers darted over the controls, and a dull whine sprang up and grew louder, its pitch growing higher and higher until it became just a tingle in Lyndsey’s ears: the suggestion of a sound. She winced, but if Alec noticed any discomfort, he didn’t show it. He concentrated, altering the position of his fingertips, teasing the controls. A grumbling roar rose up and grew louder, flooding the cabin until Lyndsey could feel the vibrations thrumming through the armrests of her chair. The steel floor panels shook beneath her boots, and somewhere above her head, a loose rivet rattled like a badly-tuned snare drum.
Lyndsey’s teeth tapped against each other, beating out a rhythm of their own, and she clenched her jaw tight. And then it was over. The harsh sounds died away and through the windshield, the horizon dropped away as the hover truck leaped vertically into the air.
“Holding steady at ten feet,” Alec said. He checked his instruments. “Panel is green. And…yes, all trucks are now in the air.”
Lyndsey pulled the navigation panel toward her and swiped her fingers across the map. “You’ve got the coordinates I sent earlier?”
“Affirmative. I can get you there in a few minutes. Ready to go?”
Lyndsey nodded. “All units, this is truck one. Prepare to move out in three, two, one, go!” She gave Alec the thumbs up, then she leaned forward, peering through the early morning gloom as the hover truck surged into motion. “Crissy, this is Lyndsey. I want you to send a drone out ahead. Just one. Set it to scout around the bottom of the hill.”
“Will do,” Crissy said. “Terra-Drone three, going forward now.”
Lyndsey waited a moment while the oddly-shaped drone overtook her truck and beetled away across the landscape.
“There goes your flying trash can,” Alec said quietly.
“Don’t let Crissy hear you say that,” Lyndsey warned, but she was too late.
“Terra-drone three moving into position,” Crissy said. “Anything further to add, Alec.”
“Not at this time,” Alec replied. “Drone three is looking good.”
“No squabbling,” Lyndsey put in. “Truck two, listen up. Kyrksen, are you getting the video feed from the drone okay?”
A hiss of static from the speaker made Lyndsey grimace. “Truck two, this is truck one, is everything okay?”
More static swelled from the comms channel, and then Kyrksen’s voice came through: “—trouble with th—”
Lyndsey and Alec exchanged a look. “All units
,” Lyndsey said, “report in.”
“This is—” Another burst of white noise. And then the speaker fell silent. Lyndsey unfastened her safety harness and leaped to her feet. “Stay on course. I’ll get to the bottom of this.”
“No problem,” Alec said. “If anything happens, I’ll holler.”
Lyndsey hurried through into the main compartment, slamming the cockpit door behind her. Her team of three technicians had been hunched over their workstations, but they looked up, startled by the noise. “What’ve we got?” Lyndsey demanded.
David Brandt, her senior comms tech shook his head. “It’s difficult, Doctor Teare. The diagnostics cut in automatically, but so far we don’t know what’s happened. I can tell you that it’s not a system failure and it’s not atmospheric, but other than that, I just don’t know.”
“Can you fix it?”
“We’re trying. But it looks like an external problem…like something in the terrain.”
Lyndsey’s eyes went wide. “We’re heading toward some hills, could that be it?”
“Hang on.” David checked a display on his workstation and then crossed to another screen farther down the wall.
“Come on, David. Give me something to work with here. Our systems are supposed to be bulletproof. It can’t just be this hill, can it? We’ve passed high ground before and never had any problems.”
“Ha!” David put his finger on the screen. “You should come and see this.”
Lyndsey moved to his side. “Oh!”
David beamed at her. “You see? It’s a magnetic field. Massive. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“Can you bring up the terrain and overlay the field?”
David hurried back to his workstation and started work, his fingers clattering across the keys. He mumbled something under his breath, then he stood up straight. “You’re right. It’s the hill. It’s like it’s channeling a magnetic field, or distorting an existing phenomenon.” He massaged his temples with his fingertips. “But where does the field originate? I don’t understand.”
The Wall (Colony B Book 1) Page 6