“Eternity; ours, to mourn their passing.
Yet ours must be the harder choice.
We; judged by our own descendants,
Must strive and fight to give them voice.
Our heavy hearts they cannot weigh,
Nor our sacrifices know,
But with fortitude we will time resist
And generations sow.”
He returned the paper and his glasses to his pocket and looked out to the assembled crowd.
“We have a debt of gratitude to those who provided our escape,” he glanced down at Kate who’d used her crutches to stand throughout the inauguration speeches, “We also have a responsibility to the generations that will hopefully follow ours. In our human evolutionary chain, we are the link that joins past to future. Like any chain, we are only as strong as its weakest link. If we are to remain strong, each of us must be strong. Accordingly, without exception, each of us will freely receive the very best medical care to ensure our own individual strength.”
He could see Kate contemplating his words and nodding.
“During our forthcoming Biomag and isotope checks, Dr. Smith will also check our bloodwork for inherited disorders. In this day and age, it is unconscionable for anyone to remain hostage to genetic conditions passed to them by their parents. We will greet our future with optimism, strength, and the proud heritage we are founded upon.”
He collected his notes from the lectern and looked down at all who were gathered below.
“Crescat nos fortior. We grow stronger.”
•
Following the inauguration, food and drink were made available to everyone aboard the Node. On the Observation Deck below, people milled around, engaged in conversational chatter. On the balcony, where Alfred stood, the lectern had been put aside and similar sounding conversations filled the air.
“Congratulations.”
Alfred turned to see a man very much more at ease with himself.
“Thank you, Colonel Beck,” Alfred shook his hand.
“Please,” he corrected, “Let’s start using ‘Russell’…”
“Old habits die hard,” Alfred smiled, “It might take me a while to get used to that.”
“I think it’s important,” he replied, “By the way, the Webshot pulled down some last-minute Archive files under Napier’s name. Once I’ve uncompressed them, I wouldn’t mind going through them with you. If there’s information about who attacked the Node during launch, or an explanation why General Napier never made it back here, then I think you should see it too.”
Alfred did his best not to react.
Panicked thoughts now crowded his mind. Had someone somehow discovered Napier in that basement room at Andersen Air Force Base? Could Napier have somehow survived Pittman’s shot? Was Alfred himself implicated?
“It’s been a long day,” Alfred managed, “Can I let you know?”
“Sure,” he replied, then tapped at his Biomag, “You know where to find me.”
Alfred watched him depart; indeed he did know where to find him. Each Biomag had an embedded RF chip; when paired with the Node’s personnel register it was possible to pinpoint anyone according to the last door they’d used. Indeed, it was this system that had falsely confirmed Douglas Walker as being aboard the Node, when in fact it was Kate wearing his Biomag.
There were a few legacy Biomag units aboard that weren’t RF chipped; typically these belonged to people, like himself, who were not on the base in the week before departure. Soon though, these older units would be replaced; it would be possible to locate everyone.
A cold thought began to dawn.
The recent Biomag scare had highlighted the need for a Node-wide repair schedule. The failure of a single component had been enough to render a Biomag completely inert.
Alfred found himself reasoning that if he could find a method to deliberately trigger the component failure, then he would have control of the Node’s Biomags. Coupling this with the ability to target the RF chip codes of specific Biomags, the level of control was chilling.
His conscience pricked slightly, but he reminded himself that it was human nature to exploit a weakness for competitive advantage. There was no shame, he was simply drawing on his proud human heritage.
Political power was good.
Power over life itself was better.
If the political landscape was about to shift, then he’d need to adapt quickly.
Trevor Pike was heading the initiative to identify and, if necessary, repair the faulty component for each Biomag. Alfred knew he’d need his assistance to bring his plan to fruition; it was just a question of providing suitable motivation to overcome morality.
He glanced around the balcony area and saw Trevor, standing alone and staring out at the remote world beyond the window. There seemed little point in delaying. He fixed a smile on his face and approached him.
“Still quite a sight, isn’t it?” Alfred started.
“Hey, Alf-” Trevor turned to face him, “I mean, Mr. Pres-”
“I’m still just Alfred!” he laughed, then pointed outside, “Looks like the flood’s receding. I think Noah had to wait a little longer than us for the waves to subside!”
“Eh?” Trevor frowned.
“Floods, Arks?” Alfred attempted.
“Oh, yeah,” Trevor took a long drink from his glass of beer, “Maybe all the evil in the world has finished drowning now...”
Alfred could tell from Trevor’s line of sight that he was looking out towards the location of the Node’s dedication stone, the tip of which was just visible above the vibrating surface of the sea water.
It had been Alfred’s suggestion to place the stone and engrave it with the names of those who had died during the Node’s construction. The idea was to give an enduring sense of contributing to a greater good. Trevor’s son had been one of those engraved names. Today, over fifty years had passed since Steven Pike had lost his life in the Mark 3 fire; understandably Trevor was drowning his sorrows.
Alfred knew exactly how to begin.
“I’m sorry Trevor,” he placed a hand on his shoulder and sighed, “I still think about the Mark 3 too.”
Alfred watched him drink the remainder of his beer. Depending on how much he’d already had to drink, the conversation may be easier than he’d imagined.
“I don’t know,” Alfred sighed, “I can’t help thinking that if your son hadn’t been on watch when the Mark 3 was sabotaged then he’d still be alive -”
“Sabotage?” Trevor cut in, gripping the now empty glass.
“It’s something I heard from Bradley Pittman,” Alfred shook his head gravely, “Apparently, Anna Bergstrom and Douglas Walker started the fire within the Mark 3, to make sure they were the only ones with knowledge of the Field’s final solution.”
Trevor collapsed into a nearby chair, no doubt mentally revisiting the tragic day, reassessing it in the light of this new information. While Trevor reeled, Alfred continued.
“If Colonel Beck hadn’t put Steven on that particular shift then…” Alfred trailed off, then gently led Trevor along a mental path, “I’m sure it wasn’t intentional. I don’t think there’s any way he could’ve known that there’d be a fire.”
Trevor suddenly looked up.
“Do you think that Beck could have known?” he whispered.
Alfred almost pitied him. All he had to do now was deny it, and the doubt would take hold.
“The idea that Colonel Beck was working with Douglas to conceal the Field solution is… preposterous! On the contrary, we have a lot to thank Colonel Beck for. Although he couldn’t save Steven that day, we should be grateful that he did save Douglas. Douglas’ Field equations and Kate’s DRB message are the very things that saved us.”
Alfred put a consoling hand on Trevor’s shoulder.
Trevor was no longer looking at him, but it was obvious that his breaths were now getting shorter; emotions were beginning to impair judgement. Alfred now followed up with a
false connection to allow Trevor to complete his mental journey.
“In a way, we should be thankful. Beck’s decision to put Steven on that shift resulted in most of us surviving.”
The drinking glass in Trevor’s hand cracked.
CHEN TAI
4th July 2076
As if emerging from a long daydream, Tai looked at the telegram in his hands:
‘Field Two Stable.’
He recognised the words but their context was now unclear. He’d been thinking about something else when the message had arrived, but the more he tried to focus on his previous thoughts, the more they seemed to slip away. He felt sure he’d been hoping to continue a journey with someone, but the details were fading.
Perhaps the telegram was a destination, he thought, one that he’d presumably arrived at. The only stables he was aware of were those at the rear of his parents’ Luóxuán Corporation building. Where the accident had happened.
He didn’t know how he’d missed it, but he now saw the Luóxuán Telecommunications logo in the upper right of the telegram. He dropped the telegram to his side and saw his parents ahead of him. Feeling his heart soar with joy, he wanted to run to them, but the wheelchair and lap-belt below his waist grounded him.
He remembered this moment.
He found himself confused that he was remembering something that was only just happening.
Tai placed his hands on the wheelchair’s rough tyres; tyres so new that there was not a hint of dirt within their treads. He allowed his hands to feel for the push ring on each wheel; a circle of cold steel, broken in one place by the presence of a raised weld. He set his sights on his parents and inhaled the rich, peaty air that surrounded the stables. Gripping the rings tightly, he pushed. The wheelchair moved forward an inch but then stopped under his own weight.
His mother, Jiaying, wept and obviously wanted to come to his aid.
“Jiaying, bù!” his father placed a gentle hand on her arm and told her that their son must persist.
The riding accident had happened at this very field. The horse had taken fright and thrown him; the fall was sufficient to sever the nerves at the base of his spine. He would spend the remainder of his life in this chair. The anger he felt now was useful, it was giving him the strength to drive the wheels forward. Before he knew it, he felt his mother’s embrace and was staring at the face of his father, proudly kneeling in front of him.
“Chen Tai,” his father spoke, “Never underestimate your own strength. Others in history have shared your name, your strength.”
“Yes, father,” he replied.
“Your mother and I have learned of… dark times… ahead,” said his father with a brave smile, “But you will never want for anything again. We have made it so.”
Somehow Tai knew his father was referring to the arrangement that saw Archive absorb Luóxuán’s future developments. It was information that Tai could not have known at the time, but did not appear out of place here. As he continued to look into his father’s moist eyes he recalled what had happened next.
“As I have learned, so you too must learn,” his father held out his open palm, on which sat a small apple, “True control is not given, it is taken. In life, you yourself must take control.”
His father waited.
Tai knew he must take the apple from his father’s hand, but as he took hold of the fruit, his father’s fingers started to close around his hand. Instinctively, Tai grasped the apple firmly and pulled it clear. For a moment, he wondered if he’d offended his father, but it was clearly not the case; he was smiling broadly.
“Good. Now you control what lies ahead.”
His father turned and gestured for one of the stable hands to lead over a new horse.
“She is called Fai,” his father told him, “she is yours.”
“Thank you, Father…” he found he already knew the words that came next, “…but the name ‘Fai’-”
“Chen Tai,” he smiled, “the meaning of a name carries its power. The fact this animal is female gives further power to the name. She is called Fai because the name is at one with new beginnings.”
The horse was led to the side of his wheelchair and began sniffing around Tai’s closed hand.
“You too must create a new beginning for yourself. Wipe away all that has come before.”
In a moment that felt like memory yet also a time long after, he knew he would fulfil his father’s words.
“My son, this chair supports you, but it does not hold you. Set your sights high,” he patted the horse’s saddle, “and you will leave that chair behind.”
Tai felt the question arrive.
“The apple?”
“It is a symbol of knowledge, and also…” his father smiled, “Fai likes apples.”
The horse was sniffing at his hand; her soft nose and mouth nuzzling it to get to the fruit within. He felt her teeth gently nip at his fingers and instinctively he opened his hand.
Fai took the apple.
He remembered the thinly masked disappointment on his father’s face, but that was not happening now. His mother and the stables had vanished into a bottomless darkness and his father now knelt at his side; his expression blank.
“We’ll speak again,” his father’s mouth spoke.
As his father disappeared into darkness, Tai felt the sensation of endless falling.
BLACKBOX
13th April 2014
In the quiet recess under the Glaucus Dock stairwell, Marcus’ laptop reached the end of its comparison subroutine and emitted three loud beeps. Marcus and Sabine did not dare move. The feet they’d seen descending the steps were now returning to their position. A flashlight clicked on and then shone in their direction. Marcus scrambled to his feet, hauling Sabine along with him. They pushed aside a packing crate and together they began to move away from the stairwell.
“Hey!” the man called from behind them.
Marcus now tried to pick up speed, but in his undernourished state found his legs burning under the minor effort. He glanced behind him to see if the man was pursuing and was greeted by the full illumination of the flashlight.
“Hey! Wait,” the man’s voice now hissed, “Marcus?”
Marcus slowed, not sure if he’d heard correctly.
“Blackbox!” the man hissed.
There was no mistaking that particular alias, this was obviously someone who knew him. In his distraction he stumbled, but was held up by Sabine. She could easily have outrun the pursuer, but had chosen to stay. It was pointless to keep running. Marcus raised his hands above his head and slowly turned to face the flashlight-wielding man who was rapidly catching up with them.
“You gotta be shittin’ me…” the man’s hushed voice continued, “put your hands down!”
Marcus complied then watched as the man ran up to them, turning off the flashlight.
“Marcus,” the man pointed to his own smiling face, “It’s me!”
The features somehow failed to trigger any recall.
“Who…?” Marcus began.
The man rolled his eyes.
“Independence Day was a mistake,” the American looked at him knowingly, “Rule Britannia?”
It was a somewhat ironic passphrase given to him by Monica Walker, seemingly a lifetime ago. He’d been on a rainy airfield, putting Kate Walker aboard a light aircraft with Miles Benton. The man he’d collected from the plane had used this exact phrase to verify his identity.
“Nathan?” he tried.
Nathan’s grin widened and Marcus suddenly recalled the counterpart to the pass phrase:
“Happy Fourth of July,” he laughed, partly in exhaustion, “Welcome to sunny Britain.”
“Hmm, nice place,” Nathan replied with sarcasm, looking around the darkened interior of the USV, “Oppressive. Insular. Love what you’ve done with the lighting…”
Marcus turned to Sabine who looked unsure of the situation.
“It’s OK,” he reassured her, then the most pre
ssing matter returned to his mind, “Nathan, we’re starving, you got anything on you?”
Nathan reached into the bag slung around his shoulder.
“I’ve only got this,” Nathan handed him a bottle of water, “There is food, but not here.”
Marcus grabbed the bottle, unscrewed the top and handed it to Sabine, who began draining its contents.
“Damn good to see you again,” Nathan shook his head in disbelief.
“You too,” Marcus now accepted the bottle from Sabine and began drinking.
“We never thought we’d see you again,” Nathan patted him on the shoulder then glanced over to Sabine, “Who’s your friend?”
Marcus pulled the bottle from his mouth, “Hang on, what?”
“I was just asking who your -”
“No, you said, ‘We’…” Marcus narrowed his eyes, “We thought we’d never see you again? There’s more of you?”
“Well, yeah,” Nathan seemed confused, “When Monica called ‘Breakthrough’ we had to -”
“Monica’s in here?!” Marcus couldn’t help yelling, “What the hell is ‘Breakthrough’?”
“Look, let’s do answers,” he cut in, “but not here, a drone patrol comes past here every fifteen minutes.”
“I know,” said Marcus, raising his laptop slightly.
Nathan turned and motioned for them to follow.
“When we get back up to the Warren,” he began climbing the stairs, “I can tell you what I know.”
CIRCLE
29th December 2013
Standing proud of the lake’s completely flat surface was a wide circular ripple, as though a large rock had been dropped into the water, except the ripple was not dispersing or growing any larger. It was as though the matter within the water had formed a temporary solid, frozen in one moment of time. Intersecting the perfect circle was a bright ball of lightning that flickered and then sent a minor pulse rippling through the surface of the ring.
Ephemeral apparitions of structure appeared fleetingly inside the ring; some were anchored to the water, others flickered into being above it, only to dissolve almost immediately into the light mist that surrounded the disturbance.
Boundary (Field Book 3) Page 23