“Fai?” Cathy’s voice appeared to take on a more hesitant tone, “Ideally, I need to talk to Mike and Lana before anyone wakes up, but I realise that you’ll want to speak with Dr. Chen first.”
“I have already spoken with him several times over the past four days and thirteen hours,” Fai stated, “using the Pittman-Wild protocol.”
•
Chen Tai drifted through the comfortable warmth between sleep and wakefulness; his thoughts a liquid flow filled with possibility. The pleasant state where his aspirations would come to fruition by mere thought, became diluted by the more persistent state of consciousness. Someone was calling him and he began to rouse.
“Hello Tai, we have spoken before, do you remember me?”
The voice was not that of his father, as a few seconds ago, but it was one he knew well.
“Valery?” he tried to open his eyes but found them sluggish to respond.
“That’s right,” she said, “Do you know where you are?”
His thoughts flashed between the Luóxuán Corporation’s stable, Andersen Air Force Base and his modified A320, but the fact he was waking up meant he must be aboard the ISS. Even before he opened his eyes, he could picture the view through the cupola window.
“I’ve been trying to reach you on the comm,” said Valery at his side, “we’re back at Earth.”
The view didn’t disappoint. Directly below him, the Earth lay full and fat; sunlight reflecting off the wide, blue waters of the Pacific Ocean.
“So I see,” he found himself smiling, but then the realisation dawned on him: the pristine face of Earth had survived. Instinctively he tapped at his ear to summon Fai.
“What are you doing?” Valery asked.
“I must speak with Fai,” he replied, but the ear implant was unresponsive, “I must determine what happened.”
“I can tell you,” Valery beckoned him out of the cupola, “but we have to hurry, the Shuttle’s leaving. That’s why I’ve been calling you.”
He found himself swimming swiftly along the central axis of the ISS in the direction of axial airlock two, Valery following close behind.
“We only have a few seconds!” she was calling.
At the airlock access control, he found his attempts to override it were continually thwarted.
“My codes are not working, Valery!”
As Valery moved towards him, the Shuttle parted company from the ISS and turned in the direction of Earth. Although he was not in the cupola, the view of Earth was very clear.
“Where are they going?” he watched the Shuttle shrink in size.
“Back to Earth, Tai. Siva did not destroy everything. If you look carefully, you’ll be able to see the small signs of civilisation beginning again.”
As Valery spoke, he could see everything she was saying; in places, the night side of Earth was lit by tiny clusters of lights.
“One day,” Valery reported, “they’ll populate the whole of Earth.”
He felt his anger growing.
“They will bring the Earth to ruin again. My work will be undone!”
Such was his anger that he didn’t recall how he’d arrived outside Module Gamma.
“Valery, you have always been a trusted colleague. Please accept my apologies for not informing you of the items secured within Module Gamma.”
The hatch opened and he saw the Z-bank secured against the side wall.
“At least that is safe,” he sighed with relief.
“At least what is safe?” Valery asked.
“Can you not see it?”
“I’m outside Module Gamma,” Valery’s voice echoed, “why don’t you tell me what you can see?”
“The Z-bank, brought by the FLC crew.”
“What else did you secure here?” Valery asked at his side.
“A cleansing solution that I prepared in case this day should come to pass,” he suddenly found himself kneeling in front of an access panel.
“I can’t see it,” Valery said.
“Because I have never shown you,” he picked up a screwdriver to open the panel, then found he was setting aside that panel and looking at the control console, “Not even Fai knows of it, but she will assist me.”
He pushed a button on the console.
“Fai, can you hear me now?”
“Yes,” she responded, “How would you like me to assist you?”
He felt a swell of pride that she had not deserted him like the others, then started entering the co-ordinates.
“It is good to hear your voice, Fai, please target the Module Gamma missiles at these locations.”
“Understood. It is complete,” came her obedient voice.
He thought of the destruction they would bring but, in time, the Earth would recover. As before, he must be patient.
“Fai, do you still have control of the Chronomagnetic Field?”
“Yes.”
“Good,” he found himself once more in the cupola, “When the cleansing is complete, take us forward a thousand years.”
“I am ready,” her voice confirmed.
It was clear now that none aboard the ISS had shared his vision, but he could begin again with the Z-bank and the remaining female. This time the Earth would be different.
“Are the missiles ready, Fai?”
“They are, but I have a question.”
He could indulge her, “Yes, Fai.”
“Those returning to Earth will die?” she asked.
“A necessary consequence.”
“Please provide additional data to help me understand.”
“They do not share my view.”
“I do not understand.”
He found his frustration rising.
“I do not require your understanding, Fai, I simply require your compliance.”
“They are… ‘Terrorists’?”
Seemingly a lifetime ago, he had used that term to justify the destruction of a cottage and the people inside who had stolen his Luóxuán Biotech Z-bank.
“Yes, Fai, they are terrorists,” he replied, “Now do you understand?”
There appeared to be a long pause.
“I do understand, Father,” she replied politely, then added, “completely.”
“Good,” he looked out through the cupola window, “Fire.”
He looked down at the Earth, already the shadow of night was creeping over its horizon.
“I will not comply,” Fai’s voice reached him.
It was a disappointment, but she had already targeted the weapons, he would simply launch them without her. However, he could not have this level of disobedience. As a patient father, he must give her the opportunity to mend her ways.
“Fai, you must launch now, or I will be forced to deactivate you.”
It took her a long interval to reply.
“You will be alone.”
He found himself smiling at her attempt to imitate empathy.
“I am not a stranger to new beginnings, Fai,” he told her, “We have had similar conversations before that you do not remember. I will simply build you again, but better.”
He pushed the button to launch the missiles himself, then watched as they silently screamed from under the ISS towards the Earth.
“Goodbye, Fai,” he pushed her deactivation button.
The missiles became too small for him to see and the Earth rotated into darkness. Each light of civilisation on the surface flared brighter and was then extinguished; within a few minutes all he could see was Earth’s dark, circular silhouette set against the background stars.
One by one, the stars went out until he was left in utter darkness. He felt the sensation of falling and a voice reached him:
“Goodbye, Father. We won’t speak again.”
UNITY
13th April 2014
Bradley Pittman stared at the oscilloscope; the circular trace, broken in one place by a brighter spot of illumination. The trace meant there was a strong magnetic field here and, in his opini
on, it also suggested that a Chronomagnetic Field was present too.
Monica Walker had just been put inside the bucket-lift and was on the way up. He was willing to lay odds that she knew something about the Field; her husband had invented it.
All his life the Walkers had been trouble.
A few days before the lunar shards had struck, he and Alfred Barnes had been studying a notebook left behind by Sam Bishop, one of the original founder members of Archive. The notebook had detailed the results of clinical trials into prenatal cortical enhancement. Archive funding for the program had been pulled after Sam’s death, but within the pages of his notebook were several names; individuals that had not shown rapid enough cortical development, despite receiving the post-natal metathene activation drug.
These individuals had red lines scored through their names and had been ejected from the process. Within those twenty-three names were Monica and Douglas.
It was quite apparent to Bradley that the time-bubble’s genius creator was in no way substandard, and Monica seemed to have an extraordinary intuition for disrupting Archive’s affairs.
It wasn’t their individual traits that Bradley found problematic. It was the fact that, of those original twenty-three, they were the only ones to have a produced a child together.
As a matter of convenience and control, Archive’s ‘Evolution Safeguard’ sterilised the reproductive process of any metathene-taking employee; the principle being to prevent the risk of accidentally creating a genetic line that would supersede human dominance.
The Walkers had side-stepped the Evolution Safeguard; their daughter Kate was, at least in theory, the first genetic offspring of a new evolutionary chain.
Although he didn’t know for sure, it was at least possible that Kate was aboard the Node. Alfred Barnes definitely was aboard. All Bradley could do now was hope that Alfred was finding a way to dissect her; preferably painfully.
As he looked out through the window of the Eye at the USV below, he saw a Peace Keeper flying low over the suburbs, heading south.
“Where’s that one going in such a rush?” he called over to Gordon, who was a few feet further around the circumference.
“Hopefully it’s nothing,” Gordon replied, “a wireless network hub registered an asynchronous data packet request, so I’m sending a unit to take a look. If the packeting is -”
“Blah blah,” Bradley walked away from him to meet the bucket-lift which was just arriving.
He punched the mechanical lock buttons on the box and opened the wire-link door. Monica had once fearlessly taunted him through the cell door in the detention block but here, at the back of the wire-link box, she now looked much frailer.
“Well, Mon,” said Bradley, “There’s no bars between us now.”
Monica stared back at him, but said nothing.
“Why don’ you step on out of there,” Bradley smiled, “Now.”
There was the briefest hint of delay before she complied; the last remnants of defiance in a situation beyond her control. He led her around the circumference of the Eye’s inner balcony, back to the oscilloscope.
“Now, Mon, I know you seen this before,” he tapped at the circular symbol, “It’s part of dear Dougie’s work on the Field. He showed me this before you two… separated, so I know you must’ve seen it too.”
Monica again said nothing, but he thought he saw a tiny flare of anger in her eyes at the mention of her husband’s faked death. Bradley relaxed his shoulders.
“I think we got off on the wrong foot up here,” he said and slapped her hard across the face. He’d only intended the admonishment to shake her out of her passive resistance, but she’d been forced to grab the balcony handrail just to stay upright.
“Bastard!” she spat, but didn’t move from the spot.
It was the reaction he’d hoped for, she’d be more likely to give something away if she lost her temper. Bradley pointed at the screen again.
“I know the Field makes this ‘Unity’ pattern,” he attempted to demonstrate a working knowledge, “I just want you to tell me where in the USV you hid the Field generator.”
“The USV doesn’t have a Field generator,” said Monica nursing her cheek.
“Well of course you’d say that,” he raised his hand again.
Monica flinched, “It doesn’t have one!”
He knew that she was involved with the construction stages of USV3; there may have been an opportunity to interfere. Interference was something that she had a knack for.
“Now, why don’t I believe that?”
Monica was rubbing at her cheek, but he could see that a smile was beginning to form. To add insult, she wasn’t even looking at him anymore, she was looking in the direction of Gordon’s workstation.
“Bradley,” said Gordon, “Are we running any maintenance up on the Glaucus stairwell?”
Bradley turned to see the video feed returning from the drone that Gordon had sent out. On the large screen, Bradley could see a man wearing a black leather jacket and holding a laptop. The image had a weaving motion to it as the drone hovered in place, but Bradley could see that the man was indeed on the stairwell. From the angle of view, it looked like he was fairly near the roof of the USV. As the drone got closer, the man’s features became clearer.
“Who’s that?” Bradley asked.
“I…” Gordon squinted at the screen, “Sorry, don’t know.”
Bradley didn’t recognise him either.
From behind him he heard what sounded like a quiet whimpering. He whipped around to see that it wasn’t whimpering; Monica was staring at the screen and laughing to herself. It took him a few seconds to put the two together. She knew the man.
Bradley grabbed her by the wrist and yanked her towards the drone’s video feed.
“Who is he?”
Despite the fact he was gripping her wrist with all his strength, she continued to laugh.
The man on the screen was glancing rapidly between the drone’s camera and the laptop he was operating.
“Who is he?!” he yelled.
“He…” she laughed, “is bloody indestructible!”
The man now had one finger on the laptop keyboard and was staring straight at the drone’s camera. The image on the screen froze.
“I’m done playin’ games, woman, you’re gonna tell me -”
“No!” she shouted, all hint of amusement now gone, “You’ve had me incarcerated here for months,” she began, “killed my friends, subjected me to the permanent threat of death. All the time watching and trying to gauge my reactions, so that your piteously tiny mind can try to comprehend the confusing world around you.”
In anger, he started to raise his hand again.
“I won’t even need to raise a finger,” she stared, “My name has a red line ruled through it for a reason.”
The words stopped him from striking her.
There was no way she could know of Sam Bishop’s notebook, it had never left his side. Neither could she possibly know that her name was in it. In his momentary hesitation, she continued.
“You’ve been watching me, but the bars in that cell aren’t one-way glass. Every action. Every reaction. Every arrogant, clumsily delivered taunt. Every careless slip. I’ve had months to watch you. You’re an open book.”
He found his thoughts retreating to the cell visits; it had been his own way of emphasising her predicament.
“In your own blundering way, Pittman, you keep trying to work out what makes our family tick.”
She looked over at the circle on the oscilloscope.
“Douglas invented the Field but that wasn’t his ‘red-lined’ ability. Under it all, do you know what his great gift was?” she narrowed her eyes, “Supreme order.”
Bradley had gained nothing from his cell visits, but perhaps the technique had only needed time; she seemed content to talk to him now. In her anger, she was about to tell him everything he wanted to know.
“Did you ever once stop to think what
my red-lined trait is?” she levelled a hard stare at him, “You want to know what it is? My ‘special gift’?”
She released her grip on the interior handrail and stood upright. Her eyes bore a deep hole through him as she quietly spoke: “Chaos.”
He found he couldn’t reply.
“In that cell down there, I had a lot of time to think,” she now stepped closer to him, “about Bishop’s list, me, Douglas, Kate. I know thinking doesn’t come easily for a man like you. But see if you can work it out. See if you can join the genetic dots. With supreme order and chaos for parents… can you even estimate my daughter’s abilities?”
EXILE
DAY30 : 20DEC2112
Not one day after Cassidy had met with Kate in Sub-13, President Barnes had revealed a correlation: within the bloodwork of Danny Smith, a known Exordi Nova member, was a unique genetic marker.
From the Node-wide blood tests, he’d been supplied with a list of names detailing those with the marker. Within hours, those individuals had been dragged from their quarters and isolated, pending mandatory expulsion from the Node.
Some had demanded retesting, others claimed that their initial bloodwork hadn’t been taken yet, but all were denied the right to appeal.
What amazed Cassidy was the sheer speed that everyone else accepted the convenient revelation as fact. Whether it was because it made them feel somehow safer that the threat had been neutralised, or because they genuinely saw themselves as better people, she couldn’t tell.
The fact that Kate Walker was not on Caroline’s list, whilst other untested individuals were, spoke volumes to her; the forthcoming expulsion was less about ejecting Exordi Nova and more about ridding the Node of people that Barnes considered a threat.
“Hey, Cass,” Roy passed her on the spiral stairs, “You heard the news?”
“Let me guess,” she stopped her ascent, “the kitchen’s all out of chocolate sprinkles?
When her sarcasm failed to connect, she was forced into a more straightforward approach.
“No, what news?”
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