Akropolis

by Catherine McCallum

  They turned to face her. Norika said, “Frederick is dead.”

  “Is that what you came to tell me? I know it already,” Lady Wincroft said coldly. “Or is there another reason for your visit?”

  “We know about you,” said Norika.

  Lady Wincroft laughed. “Really? And what is that?”

  Nat said, “We know what you’ve done, what you plan to do to gain control‌—‌you and your followers. That won’t happen.”

  “You’ve turned into quite the action hero, haven’t you, Nathaniel? Too many movies.”

  Nat stared at her. “You caused your son’s death. Why? He protected you. He said you weren’t always like this‌—‌what happened to change you?”

  She returned his look coolly. “I once loved someone who rejected me because I was a Descendant. After that I wanted to change the rules.” Her voice had become harsh and she stopped, correcting her tone. Always acting, Nat thought. “Frederick died because he betrayed us. All for nothing. We have the numbers, we’ll prevail, and Earth will become a Zelean planet.”

  “What is Seb to you? Why do you want to destroy him?”

  “Because by living he would destroy us. Sebastian’s legacy is yet to come. We still have time to change the direction his life will take”‌—‌she shrugged‌—‌”or take his life. We need to ensure our future by removing his influence on history, by replacing him with one of our own.”

  “So centuries of Earth’s thought and learning would be undone?”

  She smiled dismissively. “Just discredited. Zelean science is more advanced. You’re clever enough to recognise this. Under our influence Earth would be different. Better. Unfortunately, there are those reluctant to give up ancient laws and sciences. They will be removed so the rest of us can progress. There can be no compromise.”

  Norika said, “Descendants would never support any belief system that promotes murdering those who disagree with them. You can’t kill us all.”

  Nat gave her a frown. Leave it. “We’re wasting time,” he said. “You can explain your motivations in a court of law.”

  Lady Wincroft turned on him, contempt in her voice. “I would expect Sebastian’s brother to condemn me, but not even you can save him.”

  Behind her Nat saw Argos enter the hall and pad softly towards them. “If I can’t save him, then Argos will,” he said.

  She turned in shock, her face drained. “Argos,” she whispered as he approached her.

  Argos stopped and stood calmly watching her. “It has to end, Eileen.”

  She wavered. “Your brother died in my arms.” Tears filled her eyes.

  Argos said, “He loved you, as others have. It destroyed him.”

  She turned as if fending off a blow and walked to the staircase. “Please wait for me here,” she said sharply. Nat moved forward. She hesitated, and turned to face him. “You know, Nathaniel, you’ll get what you want. And after that? Nothing. You’ll find there’s nothing left to want.”

  They watched as she climbed the stairs to her room, and waited for her in silence. After a while a small sound alerted them.

  “What is it?” Norika said, alarmed. She ran to the stairs. “Flames! There’s a fire upstairs!”

  Nat ran up the stairs two at a time but the flames had quickly taken hold and blocked him at the landing. He could smell the kerosene she had used as an accelerant. He called her name. “Eileen!” But he heard only the roar of the fire and the cracking of timber. A burning beam fell to the lower level and ignited a curtain. As the flames reached the staircase he saw her standing in a doorway, silhouetted against the window, alight. He beat a path through the fire front in a desperate bid to reach her, but she was engulfed in flames and he fell back, defeated. He ran down the staircase to the others and together they made their way through the gathering heat and smoke to the front door and outside to the lawn.

  “Mrs Macgregor!” said Norika. “She’s alone in the kitchen!” With Nat following fast behind, she ran, heart thumping, along the driveway to the back of the house. Smoke was coming under the kitchen door as she pushed at it. “Mrs Macgregor!” she screamed. Nat kicked the door in and she ran inside, ahead of him. Through the smoke she saw Mrs Macgregor making her way across the kitchen towards her, coughing and spluttering. The cook fell into her arms and together they stumbled outside as the kitchen exploded into flames behind them. Nat helped them along the driveway to the front lawn where Argos was waiting for them, and they all stood watching as Halston Hall burned to the ground.

  Nat said in a low voice, “We should leave before the authorities get here.” He turned to Mrs Macgregor. “Someone will be here shortly. We need to go before they arrive. Will you be all right?”

  Mrs Macgregor was still watching the house. She frowned as if at some thought, looked at him for a moment and, to his relief, smiled reassuringly. “Don’t you worry, Nathaniel. Bert will be here soon. We’ll deal with things now.”

  Norika went to her and hugged her, then turned and led the way to the forest.

  Nat hesitated for a second and turned back. “Mrs Macgregor, what happened to the dolls’ house?”

  “Oh, that went after Emmeline died, to some collector.” She sighed. “I expect Sir Hugo will live in London now. The manor was a sad place‌—‌I’m glad it’s gone.” She held his arm a moment. “Did you see the pigeon?”

  Nat froze. “Pigeon?”

  “I saw a pigeon fly out of the house, before it all went up in flames. The strangest thing, but I know what I saw.”

  A short distance from the house Sir Hugo had pulled his car over to the side of the road. He sat for some time staring out the window, mesmerised by the flames that were destroying his home. She was dead. He knew it without driving further to confirm it. What was the point?

  The police would inform him and he would make arrangements for the funeral. The property would be sold‌—‌he would never go there again. He would contact her sister and Edward and then he would submit his report.

  He considered their life together. No one, except perhaps for her sister, had known her as well as he. Their relationship, as guard and prisoner, was determined by law and they had become accustomed to it over the years. Zelean justice was dispensed differently, but no less effectively. The bonds of confinement were invisible, but they were there. Their life was comfortable and even, at times, pleasant. They were deeply embedded and few others knew of their past.

  He had often felt sorry for her. She had been only once to Zelos and the visit had been unfortunate. Her code had betrayed her in a routine check. She was judged and found wanting. It sometimes happened, even to one as elegant and charismatic as she. Many slipped through the system, of course, especially after the planet began dying and there were more important concerns. She had been one of the unlucky ones. He reminded himself not to empathise‌—‌he was a Zelean by birth, a scientist, not given to pity for the failings of others. She was unstable and the management of her case had warranted extra precautions.

  None of their people on Earth had been willing to guard her. Most were Descendants, sympathetic to their cause but soft, assimilated, corrupted by their adopted planet. He himself had taken on the role of her Overseer, and delivered her back to Earth. He had desired her, pitied her, and then rejected her.

  She had deteriorated, as predicted. Her beliefs had become more extreme even as she continued to attract followers. He knew she had to die and by his hand. In the end she saved him the trouble. If only the others could be as easy. He had heard of rare cases where codes had been overwritten, but it required the strength of mind to defy predictions‌—‌far beyond her abilities and beyond any he had known.

  He took out his cellphone and sent a text message. He would spend the night at his club and tomorrow he would resume his work.

  He turned the car around and drove back to London.

  31

  Tasmania, 2020

  The report in the St Annes Herald was brief:

  The body of mis
sing deckhand Rick Delaney was found washed up on Shearwater Beach on Tuesday. The discovery has raised fresh questions about the results of the inquest into his death, held last August. Police investigations are continuing into a number of wounds found on the body.

  Rick Delaney had been reported lost at sea from the crayboat Cormorant in a storm last June. The following August an inquest delivered a finding of accidental death. Not long after the incident the boat’s skipper Jake Eastman died after a long illness.

  Sebastian D’Angelo is the sole surviving crew member of the ill-fated Cormorant. Mr D’Angelo was unavailable for comment yesterday, but his father Paul D’Angelo paid tribute to both crew members who died. “Rick Delaney was an experienced seaman and a good friend of our family. The discovery of his body proves he died much later than previously thought. I hope this brings to an end any rumours still circulating in the town regarding his death.”

  In a bizarre twist, local fisherman Phil Lawson said the body was surrounded by dead shearwaters. The annual flight of the shearwaters south from their wintering grounds took a particularly high toll of birds this year and many hundreds were found washed up on the same beach.

  Luisa D’Angelo passed the paper to her husband. He read the report and placed the paper back on the table with a sigh.

  “Do you think Nat was there?” she said.

  “Maybe,” he said. “Maybe Seb was there as well. Have you heard any more from the Network?”

  “Argos said they’re both okay. I worry about them.”

  “I know,” he said gently. “But Nat has a way to go yet. We have to believe he can overwrite Seb’s code.”

  “We have no choice, Paul.”

  There was a brief silence. He said, “Nat will return. He’ll resume his studies and put all this behind him.”

  Luisa took a moment to respond. “And Seb?”

  His expression changed but he tried to sound confident. “You’ve known about his code from the beginning. We knew his time would come.” He gave her a reassuring smile. “Seb is like you, he doesn’t reveal his plans.”

  She smiled back. “My plans were to lead a quiet life here, with you and the boys.”

  Paul D’Angelo gave a short laugh. “In St Annes? Knowing what was to come?” He hesitated. “Boys grow up, Luisa. His code marks him, but Seb will choose his own path. Trust him to follow it.”

  She seemed distracted, thoughtful. “Sometimes…” she said, as if to herself.

  “What?”

  “Sometimes I think I don’t know him.”

  “Seb?”

  She turned to him, a puzzled look on her face. “No. Nathaniel.”

  * * *

  From outside in the garden Nat could see his parents at the kitchen table. He longed to go to them, to talk to them, but it was too soon. Instead he checked the hen shed for notes from Seb. Nothing. He continued on his course.

  It was Mrs Macgregor’s remark that had caused him to change plans. A short time before, as he and Norika and Argos were making their way through the forest after leaving the burning manor, Nat had told the others he needed a few hours to himself. Argos had reminded him they were expected before the Committee.

  “Don’t worry,” Nat said. “Wait for me here.” After some hesitation, they agreed. He left them near Finn’s grave and headed straight for the portal.

  Now he was in St Annes and on his own. From his parents’ home he set off running at a steady pace to the Delaneys’ cottage. He had prepared for this meeting.

  Sarah Delaney was sitting on the verandah waiting for him, gazing out to sea. He approached her quietly and stood looking down at her, at her fine, calm face.

  She kept her gaze on the sea. “I like it here,” she said. “This is where Earth appears at its best‌—‌so peaceful. No cataclysm expected for billions of years.”

  He sat beside her. “Sarah Delaney. I knew I’d find you here.”

  She turned to him. “Have you worked out the rest of it, Nathaniel?”

  “The probe, Rock Island‌—‌I thought it was recording data to destroy us. I was wrong. It was programmed to destroy Zelos when it landed back there.” He waited for her to confirm it.

  “That was its purpose, to self-destruct, to destroy a dying planet before the last remaining inhabitants left. It was set to detonate on a signal.” She paused. “We changed our minds. It’s been deactivated. At the last moment we couldn’t go through with it so we prevented a complete reassembly taking place. Your rock was the nuclear device, useless now.”

  “I don’t understand why you would destroy your own people.”

  “My own people? My home has always been Earth. Those remaining on Zelos could have joined us if they’d wanted it enough. They could have become Survivors, Descendants. Now they will suffer over generations as the planet dies. Zelos will soon be unable to sustain life. Our scientists predicted the supernova millennia ago. The probe would simply have accelerated the end.”

  “Why not leave them to their fate?”

  “Migration from the planet changed us, gave us a reason to belong somewhere else. Our people became divided. Those who remained saw the First Transition as a betrayal, a rejection of the science. They wanted the Second Transition to be a conquest, not an assimilation. Many of their leaders were sent here to convert others. The Age of Ascendants is upon us. We had to stop them coming.”

  “Your own sister was converted.”

  “Eileen was an easy target. She underwent training on Zelos, she changed, became fanatical. When a code scan marked her as unstable she was sent back home and placed under guard at Halston Hall, where she continued to be useful for a time, gaining followers, converting others. Even, briefly, her own son. Then she deteriorated and her controllers were alerted. By the time Rick and Cade, and I, were repositioned in St Annes as the Delaneys, Rick had turned against her.

  “Cade had been assigned to kill Sebastian. He was considered violent, a risk, but his controllers thought that with his background he would get the job done. My job was to restrain Cade from his worst excesses. It was a successful cover. Rick and I worked together‌—‌one of us was always present in St Annes. By the time Cade and his controllers suspected we were working against them Seb had gone.”

  “Did your sister know you betrayed her?”

  “It was she who betrayed us. She was a perfect front for their cause, trained in acting, hiding her more extreme delusions under the guise of Lady Wincroft. As she became less manageable her life was at risk. Her controllers planned to kill her, and would have succeeded if not for the fire.”

  Nat said softly, “Your lives were so different.”

  She gave him a faint smile. “As it happens, Nathaniel.”

  Nat remembered what had brought him here. The fire. “You were there, at Halston Hall‌—‌Mrs Macgregor saw you. When she mentioned the pigeon I began to work it out. Was it you who started the fire?”

  He saw the pain in her eyes. She said, “I could never do that, even to save her from them. No more than I could, in the end, send the probe to destroy Zelos before its time.” She sighed. “I went to Halston Hall to warn her. Eileen took her own life.”

  Nat was silent a moment. “Despite her efforts, her son gave his own life to save Seb.”

  Sarah looked out over the ocean. “Rick was casual about existence, his own and others’, except when it came to Seb. He would have considered his sacrifice worthwhile. He was happier here than anywhere else.” She stood and faced him. “It’s been a long time since I have trusted anyone, Nathaniel. I have never enjoyed the role of leader. The Committee faces growing unrest and violence. Dealing with this requires a resolve I can no longer find in myself. Whatever happens, I wish you well.”

  He stood and smiled at her. “Goodbye, Nike.”

  She turned and became the soft grey pigeon whose image he had first seen in the Greek mosaic, and was gone.

  * * *

  Warwickshire, England, 1913

  Finn’s grave was under t
he large oak tree near the edge of the woods. It was marked by a border of stones and by the carving of a bird placed at its head, a small songbird perched on a twig.

  Edward would have placed it there, Norika thought. She sat remembering Finn and thinking of all that had passed since then. Argos was nearby, watchful and alert. The hours went and when she finally looked up, Nat was waiting.

  It was late afternoon.

  By the time she’d noticed him standing there, watching her, she had decided she would abandon the journey. It occurred to her she was holding him back‌—‌if he were free of the need to look out for her, he could concentrate on saving Seb.

  She would return to St Annes.

  The rest of it, with Seb, was uncertain. Her dream of their life together was fading. She had needed him too much when he needed to be free. She had entrusted her own future to him, and now she found it impossible to consider a future without him.

  She stood to face Nat, to tell him of her decision, and was immediately aware something had happened to give him fresh hope. He was upbeat and had plans to share.

  “I’m close to understanding Seb’s code and what it means,” he said. “Remember what Declan said‌—‌that it’s the numbers that count? The solution has something to do with the markings on the rock, the Zelean symbols. We don’t understand them but we have to find a way to use them, to reproduce their pattern.”

  “But the pattern itself has no meaning,” said Norika. “Numbers mean something‌—‌they’re a measure of distance, time, quantity. If we don’t know what they stand for, how can we use them?”

  “Zeleans use numbers to guide their lives,” Argos said, joining them, “not just what they represent, but what they look like in sets, their pattern. The image of a code is as important to them as the math. My ancestors called it the pattern that will one day come alive. By then the idea of the living pattern had become almost mythical.”