Joiner ran his gaze over the nine people before him. ‘The Committee.’
‘And why would this disturb you, Director,’ the woman said, ‘if our objectives are aligned?’
And there it is, Joiner thought, the answer they crave, my duplicity laid bare. Is it what they’d been after all along, a confirmation of guilt?
The woman removed her glasses. ‘Let me rephrase the question. How do your objectives differ from those of the Committee?’
Joiner remained silent and he glanced at the device on his arm.
‘You will learn to obey,’ – Selene’s finger hovered over the control panel – ‘and you will answer. One way or another, you will give up your secrets.’
Joiner considered the people arrayed before him, his mind racing and hands clenched. Now more than ever he wanted to bring the Committee low, to expose their hidden workings and to wring the life from their self-righteous necks. He knew they plotted with Dagmar Sørensen on Project Ares and toyed with things that endangered the entire species of man. The God Device has to be destroyed. It’s an abomination; something that can predict the future? The mere thought terrified him. And then there was the issue of the Committee’s role in sabotaging the GMRC Space Programme, effectively condemning the surface and every living thing on it to an eternal death. Joiner came to a sudden conclusion. They have to be stopped and be damned with my ambition. If I’m to rule it will be at the head of the GMRC, not of the Committee. And if anyone deserves to lead, to govern, it’s me.
A tingle of discomfort at his temple interrupted his thoughts.
The woman who’d asked the question replaced her glasses, her expression hardening. ‘How do your objectives differ from those of the Committee?’
The metal shroud on his arm constricted once more.
I can’t tell them the truth! Joiner felt panic rising as the pain increased.
One of the men leaned forward. ‘How do they differ, Director?’
Metal bit into flesh and Joiner grasped the arm of the chair.
‘Tell us, Director,’ Selene said, ‘tell us and the pain will stop.’
‘They don’t differ! Our objectives are the same!’
‘A lie!’
The pressure increased again and Joiner cried out in agony.
‘This is your last chance, Malcolm Joiner,’ Selene said. ‘Listen to my voice, you will obey me, how do your objectives differ from the Committee’s?’
Through a sea of pain Joiner looked down at his arm. The device inched into a curl, blood dripped to the floor and he knew what he had to do. I have to make it real.
Selene stood up. ‘How do they differ?!’
He shut his eyes. ‘THEY DON’T!’
The graphics on the device peaked, its motors whined. Joiner screamed and his forearm snapped.
Chapter Sixty Eight
Malcolm Joiner, the director of one of the most feared and powerful organisations in the world, sat slumped, alone and semi-conscious in his chair. His broken arm lay limp and motionless while his lifeblood pooled on the floor at his feet, the steady drip drip of blood feeding its spreading mass.
‘Can you hear you me, Director? Say something if you can hear me.’
Joiner opened his eyes and looked up into the face of a man.
‘I’m going to remove the device now, hold still.’ Dr. Laurent unclipped the restraints and Joiner felt the weight lifted away before a shadow fell over him.
‘Attach it to his right arm,’ Selene said.
‘Ms. Dubois, with respect, I’m not sure he can take any more.’
‘He can and he will.’
Dr. Laurent reached out to probe the wound. ‘At least let me stop the bleeding.’
Selene grasped his wrist. ‘Dagmar said the device can be used multiple times and on all different body parts. Was he lying?’
Dr. Laurent shook his head.
‘Then do as I say, Doctor, or you’ll find yourself testing your device,’ – she gauged the size of his neck with her hand – ‘on somewhere entirely more vital.’
Dr. Laurent paled and went about securing the machine to Joiner’s other arm.
Moments later Selene leaned down to peer into Joiner’s eyes. ‘We can do this all day, Director. And don’t think a lack of blood or the good doctor here will save you. If you pass out we’ll have you patched up and brought back again, and again,’ – she grasped his chin – ‘and again.’
Joiner shook off her hold and, despite the pain, managed to sit up straighter.
‘Good,’ she said. ‘I feared you’d lost your resolve.’ She gave a nod to Dr. Laurent. ‘Fire it up.’
Joiner heard a faint whir of motors and the metallic sheath resumed its vice-like grip.
Selene walked back to her seat and the evaluation resumed.
‘We’ll start again with the same question, Director,’ said one of men, ‘how do your objectives differ from the Committee’s?’
Joiner cleared his throat. ‘They don’t.’
Red bars elevated, motors whined and the pain came again.
Joiner clenched his teeth as the agony increased. ‘Enough!’ he said. ‘Enough.’
The pressure subsided.
‘You have something to say?’ Selene said.
Joiner breathed deeply against the pain and nodded. ‘I know why S.I.L.V.E.R. are here; it’s not just for the pendant, it’s for the thing, the light in the deep.’
‘The Pharos?’ Selene said.
Joiner gave another nod. ‘Yes. I know you want it brought back for analysis. I can’t—’ He winced as he moved his broken arm.
‘Can’t what, Director?’ Selene said, her finger hovering over the device’s control panel.
‘I can’t let that happen. It’s too dangerous.’
‘How did you plan to stop us?’ said the woman with the glasses.
‘I would have found a way.’
Selene tilted her head to one side as her colleague whispered into her ear. She nodded and returned her attention to Joiner. ‘What else?’ she said. ‘What else are you hiding from us?’
Joiner glanced at the horror of his crippled arm. ‘I’ve seen what General Stevens retrieved from Sanctuary, the giant monolith, the one Morgan activated with her pendant.’
Selene frowned. ‘What do you know of it?’
‘That it contains some type of fluid, but apart from that … nothing.’
The device on his arm remained unmoving.
‘Go on,’ Selene said, accepting his words as the truth they were.
‘But I’ve seen what the pendant can do,’ he said, ‘I’ve seen its power.’
‘And let me guess, you wanted it for yourself?’
Joiner hesitated. ‘Is that such a crime? Have none of you wanted more control, taken more, seized and wielded it?’
The Committee failed to respond; they just sat there, staring at him.
Joiner sagged back into his chair and tried to will away the intense pain that throbbed from his arm and up into his body, but the attempt failed and he remained locked in his earthly prison while those without feeling remained watching in silence.
Did my deception work? he wondered. Are they convinced? Sacrificing his arm had been a difficult decision, but it was one that may well have saved his life. If he’d revealed his secrets too early they would have sought more, they would have dug deeper until they found about his desire to destroy their God Device and the Committee itself. And if that had happened, he’d already be dead, of that there was no doubt. But disclosing lesser truths – his lust for the pendant and his fear of the Pharos – may have been enough to convince them that while they had their differences, they were not insurmountable. At least that was his theory, his hope, the only way out of an otherwise impossible situation. Whether it had worked or not, he had yet to find out.
After more moments dragged by, the nine Committee members rose as one and moved away towards the Anakim frieze, where they formed a circle to discuss Joiner’s fate. At least that’s wha
t he assumed. Either that, he thought, or they’re deciding whether to continue my so-called evaluation.
A minute passed, and then five minutes turned to ten, before the tall figures of the Committee returned to their seats; all except for Selene, who moved to stand before him.
‘It seems our goals have diverged, Director,’ Selene said, and she gestured for the doctor to return to her side. ‘And that degree of separation has become too great to reconcile.’
The doctor produced a syringe, inserted it into a vial full of a bright green liquid and pulled back the plunger.
‘Wait!’ Joiner said, his eyes fixed on the long, metal needle.
‘For what?’ Selene accepted the primed hypodermic from Dr. Laurent.
‘I can tell you more.’
‘More?’
‘I know the Committee engineered the destruction of the intercept missions. You’ve worked for years to ensure the GMRC’s Space Programme failed.’
‘And why would we do that?’
‘I don’t know!’
Selene gave a nod to someone behind him and a powerful arm, clad in purple armour, clamped down over his chest.
Joiner struggled against the soldier’s iron grip before a similarly armoured hand pulled his head to one side to expose his jugular.
Selene moved closer and the sight of the syringe filled Joiner’s vision.
‘It seems we cannot control you, Intelligence Director,’ she said, ‘and if we cannot control you it leaves us with only one choice.’
‘Wait, WAIT!’ The needle moved closer and Joiner’s eyes grew wide with fear. ‘Bic is still inside the system!’
Selene paused and looked into eyes. ‘The hacker?’
‘Yes. He has access to the GMRC’s servers.’
‘All of them?’
‘No, low level arrays.’
Selene studied him for a moment before resuming her task and Joiner felt the needle prick his skin and then – ever so slowly – slide into muscle and sinew.
‘I’m sorry, Director,’ Selene said, her thumb poised over the plunger, ‘but you can consider your evaluation … failed.’
Her thumb depressed and the piston glided through the syringe’s transparent barrel. Green fluid was forced into his neck and a second later the needle was removed and Joiner released.
A warm sensation spread through his body before a sudden flash of clarity pierced his awareness. A circle of causation was complete. It was Samson who’d first been held down and injected at Joiner’s instigation; now it was him. And likewise, Steiner and Samson still lived when it was they who should have died by lethal injection, not him. NOT ME! He couldn’t believe the injustice. Such injustice. His eyes slipped closed, the bitter irony carrying him down into bleak, empty nothingness while the Committee – arranged in detached fascination – looked on in silent vigil.
Chapter Sixty Nine
Deep beneath the landscape of the ancient lands of Mesoamerica, Richard Goodwin no longer battled against the oppressive pitch-black of Sanctuary’s underworld. Instead, he sat bathed in the purity of daylight.
Eyes closed, Goodwin breathed deeply and appreciated the warmth of the Anakim sun as it reinvigorated his mind, body and soul. It had been fourteen hours since the chamber’s ceiling had activated and he’d savoured every minute, every second of the glorious transformation. He expelled the air from his lungs with a slow release and another layer of tension departed tired muscles. How many months have I been in the dark? he wondered. Eight, ten, more? Too long, he decided, far too long. No one should be immersed in darkness … no one. Thinking about the unending blackness interrupted his meditative state and his thoughts inevitably returned to Rebecca and Joseph, which filled his heart with pain.
Goodwin heard someone approach across the pebbly beach and he opened his eyes.
Kara Vandervoort walked towards him and sat down by his side to gaze out across the lake and the strange barren landscape of the massive three mile high chamber that had become their world.
Neither of them spoke for a while, each absorbed in the contemplation of their own thoughts, until Kara decided to break the silence.
‘It’s strange, don’t you think?’
‘What is?’
‘All this.’ She gestured towards the blue skies and the dazzling light. ‘It’s very similar to our sunlight generators back at Steadfast.’
‘It’s better than Steadfast’s systems, much better. It almost looks like the real thing.’ He thought for a moment longer. ‘And why is that strange, anyway?’
She gave him an odd look. ‘Because this could be a million years old, that’s why.’
‘Perhaps it’s the optimal design. Isn’t there a case where two completely different species turned out looking like the same thing, a hedgehog and something else?’
‘An echidna, yes. There are many more examples, too. The process is called convergence, or convergent evolution. It’s where life comes up with the same environmental solution from different start points.’
‘So if evolution can produce two animals with similar, or near identical, traits over millions, even billions of years, surely two closely related species, Humans and Anakim, can come up with the same solution to the same problem?’
‘Maybe,’ Kara said.
‘What other explanation is there?’
‘The one that’s staring us in the face.’
‘Which is?’
‘What if our versions come from theirs?’
‘You think we reverse engineered them from Anakim technology?’
‘Why not?’
Goodwin looked up at the sky again. It was an interesting theory.
In the distance a rumble of thunder echoed through the chamber and the haze of rain could be seen falling from a smattering of clouds.
‘It’s beautiful, though, isn’t it?’ she said, looking up.
‘Magnificent, I only wish … all of us, could have been here to see it.’
Kara placed her hand on his. ‘You can’t save everyone.’
‘I can’t stop wondering …’
‘What?’ She glanced at him.
‘Did they suffer when they died? Or did the crystal shield them from any pain?’
‘Don’t torment yourself. You did what you could, no one could ask more.’
Goodwin stared at the lake, its cold waters turned blue in reflection of the artificial skies above. Did I do what I could? he asked himself. Did I do enough? Could I have done more? I should never have involved Rebecca. That was my first mistake … the first of many.
The buzz of insects interrupted the flow of his thoughts and he paused to watch the tiny winged creatures dance across the ground like a miniature aerobatic display. It was odd to think such an innocuous sight had become so enchanting because of its absence. Life in Sanctuary’s depths, with the exclusion of the lake itself, was – or should that be, had been – a rare commodity indeed.
‘Your theory that Sanctuary’s atmosphere was created by a large ecosystem turned out to be true,’ Goodwin said.
‘It’s ironic.’ She sighed. ‘It was right under our noses all along and we didn’t even know.’
Goodwin nodded. ‘Captain Winter said there’s a whole other world down there. It must have been sealed for thousands of years, maybe hundreds of thousands.’
‘Do they know how big it is?’
‘Hilt’s already sent two recon teams down to take a look. They’re also keeping an eye on Terra Force as they retreat back to their base.’
‘Has he mentioned the lights?’
Goodwin gestured at three figures approaching from the south. ‘You can ask him yourself.’
Kara turned to look, her expression full of mixed emotion. ‘The Commander,’ she said, hesitating, ‘Hilt … has requested that you be reinstated as camp leader.’
Goodwin refrained from saying anything at first. He knew she was proud of how she’d been coping with the tribulations of being in charge and he felt no ill will toward her that
she’d seen fit to dethrone him during his struggles. With hindsight he’d have probably done the same thing. I was out of control, I can see that now. Although, he thought, sometimes extreme circumstances called for extreme action.
‘What did you say?’ he said, keeping his tone neutral.
‘I said it was a good idea.’
‘You did?’
‘Now that things have calmed down and we’re not looking over our shoulders to see what’s lurking in the dark, it’s for the best. I think your mood has already lifted and that whatever else was going on has run its course.’
Goodwin grunted in response and Kara gave him a questioning look as they got to their feet.
Hilt and Captain Winter came to a halt in front of them.
‘Commander,’ Goodwin said, ‘Captain.’ He peered round Hilt’s armoured form to spy Susan hiding in the Darklight leader’s shadow. He gave her a wave and she ducked out of sight.
‘She’s taken quite a shine to you, Commander,’ Kara said, her expression wary.
Hilt glanced behind him. ‘It appears so.’
‘Her carer,’ – Kara moved to keep Susan in her sights – ‘Julie, is worried she might still be dangerous.’
‘She has never been dangerous,’ Hilt said. ‘The creature that was attracted to her was.’
‘But you can see her point,’ Kara said, frowning.
Hilt said nothing. What could he say? No one knew what would happen next and they couldn’t just abandon the poor girl because some thing had formed an attachment to her.
Goodwin saw an altercation brewing and he attempted to avert it. ‘Has there been any sign of the Pharos?’
‘None so far,’ Captain Winter said, ‘although now we have light they might be harder to spot.’
‘Can we track them?’
‘This is their domain,’ Hilt told him. ‘They’ll only be found if they want to be found.’
‘But there’s still a strong possibility they all died in the lake,’ – Kara looked from Goodwin to Hilt and back again – ‘isn’t there?’
Goodwin swapped looks with the Darklight commander. ‘It’s possible—’
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