Dark Rising

by Greig Beck

  ‘We feed the condensed matter to the black hole via an electrically charged ionised beam of pure plasma. The more concentrated the beam, the larger the black hole grows.’ Janaddi took a few deep breaths; he could feel his heart galloping in his chest.

  ‘But how does one contain something with the power of a million suns? Impossible for mortals, you may think.’ Al Janaddi didn’t wait for a response; he was too hyped up now. ‘We discovered we could contain the black hole between magnetic domains, using electromagnetic solenoids with a ferromagnetic core. We could slow the particle oscillations by generating Foucault eddy currents to exhibit electron braking – we can imprison them; chain them within super magnetic bonds.

  ‘Once the black hole was frozen, there was one final problem to be solved. The power required here is phenomenal. Increasing the dark matter in size by even one-millionth of a micron would take a quantum amount of energy – and the larger the black hole, the more energy required. If we weren’t careful, we could blackout all of Tehran with our energy needs and still not satisfy the entity’s hunger.’

  Al Janaddi felt he had finally gained the president’s full attention. Now he understands, he thought proudly. Now he will appreciate my talent. Encouraged, the scientist babbled on.

  ‘Then I realised that the solution to my problem was already available – I had already imagined, designed and created it. Using my thermoelectric cubes, we are able to trap the power from the black hole! Each of the cubes can contain hundreds of gigawatts of power, and we now have thousands of them built into the lead-lined casement walls of the sphere room. In fact, the energy source is self-sustaining – the larger the event, the more power is generated and the more energy is absorbed for storage. And, of course, that means more energy is available for us to use.’

  The president interrupted him. ‘Is there no limit to the size of the Judgment Event you could create here, my friend? What would happen if you gave it more… plasma?’

  Al Janaddi grew serious. ‘This is all theoretical, my President. These phenomena are the most powerful entities that exist in our universe. They eat whole star systems, and we are attempting to control them. There is a danger that if we “overfeed” the black hole it will exceed our ability to control it. Once it escapes the magnetic domain fields, it will surely absorb us – and, if it continues to grow, everything else on the planet.’

  Al Janaddi expected the president to display horror or at least concern, but instead he clapped his hands together. ‘Excellent work, my most dear friend. You are as brilliant as you are modest. Surely Allah will reward you. In fact, I will see to it personally.’

  The president came around the table and lifted Al Janaddi out of his seat and hugged him. ‘Now, I want you to show me this magical sphere of yours, and then together we will make history by creating Judgment Day on Earth.’

  Al Janaddi couldn’t help feeling some disquiet about Moshaddam’s last remark. He’d made a mistake, surely? He meant Judgment Event not Judgment Day? Also he still hadn’t said who would be entering the lead capsule for this event initiation.

  Al Janaddi felt his stomach flip greasily inside him. Something wasn’t right.

  FORTY-TWO

  The creature easily traced the thermal residue from the HAWCs’ footprints leading up the steps. Those images, combined with the scent of the warm fluids within their bodies, drew it onward. Its powerful segmented legs scrabbled for purchase on the smooth steps, and chips of concrete flicked away into the stairwell as it climbed. Its multiple antennae and fan-like whips waved in the air, tasting the environment for danger or further traces of the soft creatures it followed.

  It slowed as it detected the footfalls of a number of the little animals approaching. It listened, judging their distance – they were closer than the prey it had originally been pursuing. It could feed now and then continue its hunt for the creatures that had set that fiery object upon it. It halted, coming upright and wavering slightly in the air, like an enormous praying mantis waiting for its prey to stumble into range.

  The ten-man Takavaran squad assigned to level three had received a brief garbled message from the squad leader down on the sub-basement level that was abruptly cut off and replaced by wet, panicked screaming. They couldn’t tell if the screams were their fellow Takavaran or their adversaries.

  While they were deciding on their next course of action, they heard a muffled explosion in the fortified stairwell. They could only assume they were under attack by an enemy force or infiltration agents.

  The Takavaran moved quickly, entering the stairwell and fanning out up and down the steps. The enclosed space was still thick with smoke, and the unit leader ordered two men to cover their rear while the rest descended slowly, single file. All were exuberant at the prospect of combat and it took a few seconds to decide who would have the honour of going first.

  The creature sensed the men approaching long before it could see them. Though the soldiers probably believed they moved as silently as ghosts, the vibrations on the hard concrete, their breathing and the heat vapour they gave off made them an easy target for the creature. It knew how to ambush; it knew stalking and herding and how to collect the most prey from a hunt. While the men were pressed up against the wall as they slowly descended, the creature flattened its body and shot past them on the inside railing. It had no intention of escaping – its objective was simply to cut the men off from retreat.

  In the smoky gloom, the men barely registered the creature’s presence until it reared up behind them. The squad leader, who was descending last, felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise. He turned to settle his nerves and satisfy himself that nothing was following them. He was wrong – there was.

  A spray of blood covered the three men below him on the steps, and his head bounced down the concrete staircase, making wet, smacking sounds as it struck the sharp-edged surfaces.

  Gunfire rang out and bullets ricocheted from both concrete and hardened carapace. Men shouted and then screamed as their limbs were torn and their warm bodies opened. The creature injected some with its venom-like saliva, just enough to stun them. Their bodies fell with eyes open, perhaps still seeing the gruesome carnage but unable to do anything about it.

  The creature’s body reared up and flared open in attack, totally blocking the stairwell. Of the eight men who had descended, only one remained. He chose to escape on his own terms. He placed his pistol to his chin, yelled a defiant ‘Allahu Akbar’ to the approaching creature and pulled the trigger.

  The two Takavaran left to cover their team’s rear heard the commotion, their comrade’s final call to Allah, and then the silence that fell afterwards. They froze. They could smell the mix of cordite and blood from the stairs below. It had all been so quick, and something wasn’t right – this didn’t feel like an enemy attack. It sounded more like the eight men had fallen into a giant shredder.

  The elder of the two soldiers told his fellow Takavaran to call it in. At the very least he wanted more men here before they proceeded down to the lower levels.

  The younger man nodded and knelt while he pressed the communication stud into his ear. The connection was made and he turned to give his companion the thumbs up, then froze. His mouth hung open in confusion – he couldn’t understand what he was seeing.

  His fellow Takavaran was a large man, but he was being lifted in the air as if he were a toy. His face was distorted, his tongue protruded and his eyes bulged. As the soldier watched, the man’s skin darkened, crinkled and folded; his shoes dropped off and his legs and arms climbed back up into his clothing – the man was shrinking before his eyes. The worst thing was the sound he made – not a voice anymore, more the mewling of a small, trapped animal. His bulging eyes fixed on his fellow soldier in a silent plea.

  The monster’s eyestalks quivered, as if in delight at its feast, then the black eyes fixed on the last Takavaran. There was no mistaking its intention. The Takavaran’s final message was never sent.

  Al Janaddi led the
president and two of his bodyguards into the sphere room. He couldn’t help it: whenever he showed the fantastic technology to new people his self-esteem soared. Its incredible design was only matched by its extraordinary potential.

  The gleaming silver sphere suspended above the floor looked like a small planet. It dominated the senses, and even in standby mode gave off a form of static energy that made one’s skin creep and one’s back teeth tingle. Al Janaddi noticed that the president put his hand over his jaw, as if concerned his teeth were about to be pulled from his head. The room smelled of fresh concrete, and something else – something earthy and primitive.

  The scientist stopped in front of the machine and turned to face the small group. He ran them through the basic structure of the sphere, pointing out its encircling ring and describing the molecule collision process that would occur within the miniaturised particle collider.

  Then he waved his hand towards the roof. The walls and ceiling of the vast space became hidden in darkness as every light beam focused downwards onto the sphere. He showed the group how the shielding plates of lead and the panel sections were studded with thousands upon thousands of the thermoelectric power cubes – his invention.

  Al Janaddi took a few steps around the sphere, continuing with his explanation, when the president spotted the coffin-shaped structure standing on the white line circling the device. ‘Aah,’ he said, and nearly walked over the top of Al Janaddi in his haste to reach it. He paced around it slowly, running his hand over the smooth outer shell, tracing the Persian calligraphy with a fingertip, patting it as if to feel its weight and structure. Then he motioned for Al Janaddi to open it. The capsule was close to seven feet tall and included all the refinements that the president had instructed: a space for standing, water bottles, food, and several different communication and location devices – some triggered automatically and some operated by finger control.

  The president waved his hand in front of the open capsule and his lips moved silently. He seemed to be blessing the heavy lead casket. When he was done, he opened the small padded container attached at waist level on the inside of the capsule. From his jacket pocket he brought forth a small, exquisitely decorated silver box encrusted with rubies, sapphires and emeralds. He stroked it and then, with great reverence, lifted the lid. He spoke to the scientist without looking up. ‘Do you know what this is, my friend?’

  Al Janaddi saw that the box held a smooth dark rock. He shook his head.

  ‘It is a piece of the Black Stone, the al-Hajar-ul-Aswad. This holiest of objects fell to Earth in the time of Adam and Eve. It was pure white then. Over the centuries it has turned black because of the sins of man. It has been lost and found many times, and it is said that once, when it was thought to have been lost forever, the archangel Gabriel himself retrieved it from beneath a mountain and gave it to Abraham when he rebuilt the Kaaba, the sacred building in the Grand Mosque in Mecca.’

  The president looked up from the box and into the scientist’s face with eyes like black ice. ‘Do you know why I have brought this piece of the holy Black Stone here, my friend?’

  Al Janaddi shook his head; he guessed he wasn’t supposed to answer.

  ‘A messenger of Allah has foretold that on the Day of the Last Judgment, the stone will be given eyes to see and a mouth to speak. When it speaks, it will testify in favour of the faithful.’ The president paused, as if to slow down an overexcited heartbeat. He rubbed a finger over the smooth surface of the stone and then kissed it, holding his lips hard in place for a few seconds. ‘It will speak to me, and it will testify on my behalf when I lead our people across the bridge into Jannah. It will favour me when I alone stand before Allah.’

  The president lifted the stone from the box, then dropped the beautifully crafted silver relic to the floor as if it were no more than a discarded apple core. He placed the stone reverently in the capsule’s padded box. Then he turned to Al Janaddi and embraced him, planting a small kiss on each of his cheeks. He stepped back, nodded to his bodyguards and, to Al Janaddi’s surprise, stepped up into the lead capsule’s padded interior. He clasped his hands in prayer and rocked back and forth for a few moments, before opening his eyes to fix them on the scientist. He dropped his hand to the box where the sacred black stone now resided. ‘It has started to speak to me already, my friend.’

  The president ordered one of his bodyguards to close the capsule and before the heavy door slammed into place, he looked over Al Janaddi’s head to the other guards. ‘You know what to do. Allahu Akbar!’

  The tall man nodded.

  FORTY-THREE

  Adira whispered a brief prayer as the team waited for Alex’s sign. He nodded and the HAWCs entered the level one corridor. They made their way quickly and quietly around the curve, flat against the inside wall, guns drawn. Lagudi led, followed by O’Riordan and Adira, Zachariah, and then Sam. Alex was a few paces behind, guarding against anyone or anything that decided to follow.

  In less than two minutes they all stood before a fortified steel door. Alex pushed the heavy silver slab with his hand; it wasn’t open like the rest. ‘Formidable, and solidly locked – for now.’ He kept his hand on the door for a moment and it seemed to Adira as if he was listening through it somehow. He removed his hand and turned to the group. ‘This is it, ladies and gentlemen – this is why we are here. When we go through that door, prepare to be given hell – and to release it in return.’

  The HAWCs nodded their readiness. Adira was ready too; she could feel the adrenalin pumping through her.

  Sam smiled. ‘Go in fast, come out smiling.’

  ‘Uncle, give me an entrance,’ Alex ordered. ‘Irish, Rocky, plant some spiders for any uninvited guests who may be following us.’

  Sam headed to the code pad and pulled cords and wires from the pouches on the front of his suit. He pulled a box from his belt, licked a suction cap at the back and stuck it beside the number pad. In a few moments he had jacked the small system in and a red LED screen was displaying a rapid search of the keypad’s memory for the digital code that would open it.

  While Zach watched Sam work the electronic combination, Adira walked up to Alex. She stood in very close to his chest and looked up into his face. ‘Thank you for saving me back there. This now makes us even, I think.’

  ‘You don’t have to -’

  Alex never finished. With a grin, Adira reached forward to grab at his belt. ‘I’ll take this back now. I might need it,’ she said, removing the gun that Alex had taken from her on the lower level and deftly slotting it into its waiting holster. She half-turned and then paused, the smile coming back onto her lips. ‘If I’ve left anything down there, I’ll be back for it later.’

  Alex laughed softly and shook his head. Adira liked the sound of his laugh, and had to keep her back to him as her face burned and butterflies danced in her belly. I think he’s interested too, she thought, then forced herself to clear her head for the coming assault.

  Rocky and Irish had secreted spiders beside doorframes and fire extinguishers – anywhere that offered concealment of the lethal little boxes and their twenty-first-century claymore technology.

  ‘Hope these guys don’t have a tea lady,’ Rocky said as he armed the last of the little motion-sensitive explosives.

  The two men planted themselves up some distance from the group as lookouts and sighted their guns along the corridor – they were ready.

  Sam’s LED screen stopped and flashed. Alex and Adira immediately drew and aimed their weapons as the silver door hissed open to blast them with negative pressure air. It revealed a small, brilliant white corridor with yet another doorway at its end; just as imposing, but this time with a flat screen about waist height and angled upwards.

  ‘Damnit, a DNA scanner,’ Sam said. ‘Great. And look at the ceiling – they’re gas vents. Guess if you use the wrong finger you’re going to end up with the Ayatollah’s bad breath blowing down on you.’ Sam plucked at his bottom lip as he thought it through.


  ‘Can you open it?’ Alex asked over his shoulder as he looked up and down the corridor. ‘I can open it,’ Sam said, ‘but I’ll need a few minutes. I think I should go in by myself first.’

  Alex’s head whipped around to stare in one direction and again Adira thought he looked as though he was listening to something no one else could hear. His expression changed and she didn’t like it. It seemed he’d picked up on whatever it was he was waiting for.

  The creature entered the scientifics floor through the door left ajar by the HAWCs. The brightness of the corridor made it hesitate for a few seconds, but it could sense more of the fluid-filled creatures further inside. It dropped down onto all of its legs, flattened its low, wide body and sped down the corridor, a blur of mottled ochre and green carapace, drawn on by the tingling sensation of residual gamma particles in the air and the scent of the soft liquid sacks that had now become its food source.

  It came at O’Riordan so fast that it outpaced the electronic senses of the spider explosive. Before O’Riordan had comprehended there was danger, the monster arthropod was rearing up before him. His finger wouldn’t work on the trigger and his mouth hung open as the leviathan loomed above him.

  The spider bombs finally caught up and exploded and the blast shook O’Riordan from his inanimate state. ‘Not again, you fuckin’ big bug,’ he yelled, and leaped to the side. The creature had been knocked off its feet by the explosion and its legs made a loud clacking sound as they drummed momentarily on the hard floor.

  O’Riordan ejected the magazine from his gun onto the ground and withdrew another from a pouch at his waist – this one with a red stripe banding the metal cartridge. It snapped in instantly, he swung the muzzle up and fired three times. The bullets struck the creature in the midsection where the greasy armour plates came together like mottled green tiles. It immediately clamped down to protect the weaker area.